‘Except for Atkins, T.,’ said Yo-less. ‘It says here what a Pals’ Battalion was. It says, people all from one town or even one street could all join the Army together if they wanted, and all get sent to . . . the same place.’

‘I wonder if they all got there?’ said Yo-less. ‘Eventually,’ he added.

‘That’s dreadful,’ said Bigmac.

‘It probably sounded like a good idea at the time. Sort of . . . jolly.’

‘Yes, but . . . four weeks . . .’ said Bigmac. ‘I mean . . .’

‘You’re always saying you can’t wait to join the Army,’ said Wobbler. ‘You said you were sorry the Gulf War was over. And all the legs of your bed are off the ground because of all them copies of Guns and Ammo underneath it.’

‘Well . . . yeah . . . war, yeah,’ said Bigmac. ‘Proper fighting, with M16s and stuff. Not just all going off grinning and getting shot.’

‘They all marched off together because they were friends, and got killed,’ said Yo-less.

They stared at the little square of light with the names on it, and the long, long line of cheery thumbs.

‘Except for Atkins, T.,’ said Johnny. ‘I wonder what happened to him?’

‘It was nineteen sixteen,’ said Yo-less. ‘If he’s still alive, he’ll be dead.’

‘Any of them on your list?’ said Wobbler.

Johnny checked.

‘No-oo,’ he said, eventually. ‘There’s one or two people with the same name but the wrong initial. Everyone round here used to get buried up there.’

‘Perhaps he came back from the war and moved away somewhere else,’ said Yo-less.

‘It’d be a bit lonely around here, after all,’ said Bigmac.

They looked at him.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘I’m fed up with this,’ said Wobbler, pushing his chair back. ‘It’s not real. There’s no one special in there. It’s just people. And it’s creepy. Come on, let’s go down to the mall.’

‘I’ve found out what happens to dead bodies when old graveyards are built on,’ said Yo-less, as they stepped out into the Tupperware daylight. ‘My mum knows. They get taken to some kind of storage place called a necropolis. That’s Latin for City of the Dead.’

‘Yuk,’ said Wobbler.

‘Sounds like where Superman lives,’ said Bigmac. ‘Necropolis!’ said Wobbler, zooming his hands through the air. ‘By day, mild-mannered corpse – by night . . . duh duh duhduh DAH . . . ZombieMan!’

Johnny remembered the grinning young faces, not much older than Wobbler.

‘Wobbler,’ he said, ‘If you make another joke like that—’

‘What?’

‘. . . well . . . just don’t. Right? I mean it.’

. . . ssshhhh . . . mean, yo, youknowhatI’msayin’? . . . sipsipsip . . . told the government that . . . sswwwsss . . . fact the whales enjoy being hunted, Bob, and . . . wwwhhhhh . . .

Click!

‘So that’s wireless telegraphy, is it? Hah! So much for Countess Alice Radioni!’