“I never been so close to a dead man in my whole life.” Godfrey shivered, remembering. “His face was just pressed up against the glass. It was like sitting in the front row of the Criterion only it was real.” Godfrey rolled over and looked up at the perfectly blue sky.
He was lying flat on his back on Hampstead Heath. The noise of the funfair up by the pond filtered down to where he and his friends sat picnicking in the long grass. Below them the city of London lay shimmering in the heat as if it was on fire. And there were the occasional blackened patches, larger towards the east, that marked out the still derelict bombsites.