My instincts tell me to run. *** Gregor was ten when he saw a dead body for the first time. His mother had protested. “He’s far too young for you to take out on a job.” “Nonsense,” Gregor’s father had replied. “We don’t want him going soft. And Docherty thinks you coddle him too much. The best soldiers are trained young, he says.” And that had been that. Afterwards, they went to the big house. Gregor watched from the doorway as the two men shook hands and Mr Docherty slapped his father on the back. He seemed pleased. “Is that your lad, then? He’s grown a bit since I last set eyes on him.” Mr Docherty looked past his father at Gregor. “Well, come on, boy. Come and say hello.” Gregor looked at his father for approval. It came in the form of a nod. He stepped forward. It had…
