The damp cold in the unheated hallway settled deep into my right knee, sending a sharp, dull ache through the joint.

I rested my right hand on my knee for five seconds, holding my leg steady on the pine floor.

I unbuttoned the dark wool jacket and slid my left arm into the heavy sleeve, then my right.

The wool pulled snug across my shoulder blades, clean and precise, fitting exactly the way it had five years ago in Norfolk.

I fastened the six gold anchor buttons from my waist up to my collar.

The polished metal felt ice-cold against my fingers until the heavy wool closed across my chest.