The weight in his chest had lifted a bit there. Now it’s back. A man has to move on. Can’t live in the past, though he does his best at times. He’s silent a long moment, thinking of all the things that have happened. Will still happen. There’s no point pretending they won’t, at least to himself.

‘So, Fenchurch East lives to fight another day.’

Publicly, he has to put a brave face on. He’s the Guv.