She swears, and he binds it. He still can't be totally truthful, no matter how many Pledges of secrecy he binds he's told enough people what he is already to give Gilbert a heart attack. It wouldn't feel right to add to the number in his memory. But George can edit around the truth a little more freely at least, and that's enough for now.

"He was a musician, when we met. One of the best. Played the banjo and had the most captivating voice I've ever heard. And he knew how to work a crowd. I don't think it came naturally to him, but once he'd learnt he made it look effortless."

How much of that is true and how much is affection and gilding over of distant memory, George will likely never know. All that matters is it's the complete truth in his heart.

"He hasn't played in a long time. I don't think he believes he's allowed it anymore. I'd catch him occasionally, staring at other musicians and their instruments with a bitter longing. I'd hoped when we arrived here that I'd hear him play again, that maybe the weight of memory wouldn't hold him down so much. I guess I'll never know now."