‘Come on. It’s Merv the Perv now. Didn’t you hear them?’

‘All right, Merv.’

‘I’ve got a bottle of Scotch in my billet. We could go and drink that somewhere, if you like.’

‘Where?’

‘What’s your office like at this time of night?’

‘Very quiet, and very boring.’

‘Won’t be boring when I get there.’

‘I thought you said I needed fresh air.’

‘Once round the ablutions block, by the right, quick march, while I get that bottle of moonshine.’

He raced away before I could stop him. I could trace his progress by the whoops and shouts that greeted him at every turn. I strolled on, not thinking where I was going, towards the perimeter fence.

‘Hey! Medway!’ Footsteps thumping across the grass, and Wright was at my side again. ‘Where are you going? I thought I’d lost you. Look. I’ve got it.’ He opened his tunic; a plain corked bottle full of brown liquid was inside. ‘Can’t guarantee it’s the finest single malt. Could be Dettol for all I know. Keeps the cold out, though. Come on. Your office, wasn’t it?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You frightened of something?’

‘Do you know what would happen if we got caught drinking in the SSQ?’

‘Well there’s a simple solution to that.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t get caught.’

He put an arm round my shoulder, and led me back.

‘What’s your name, Medway? I mean your first name.’

‘Michael.’

‘Michael.’ He tried it out, didn’t like it. ‘Can’t call you that. What do your mates call you? What does your bird call you? Mickey? Mike?’

‘I haven’t got a bird.’

‘Christ! Haven’t got a bird? Fucking hell, we’ll have to do something about that. I know the WRAFs aren’t much to write home about, but some of the nurses are all right. And there’s plenty of birds in Blackpool.’

‘We’ve been warned about them, haven’t we?’

‘They’re not all slags. Plenty of them are nice. Not exactly Kim Novak, but …’ He delineated curves in the dark with his hands. ‘Good enough.’

‘I’m all right, thanks.’

‘Your fucking wrists must ache, Mick, that’s all I can say.’

We were at the door of the SSQ. Wright pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, handed it to me. ‘Come on. You only live once.’

‘I won’t, thanks.’

‘Sure?’ He was looking at me through those half closed eyes, his brow furrowed.

‘Yes. Thanks.’

‘Okay.’ He put the bottle back inside his tunic. ‘I’m off to see Gladys in the cookhouse. She’s always got something tasty on the go.’

He walked back across the grass, combing his hair.

The camp was quiet now. The men were back in the barracks, preparing for bed. They greeted me with more warmth than usual, now that I was Wright’s friend.

Under the covers, with my torch, I drew Wright, again and again … And now I was no longer like a block of stone, a prim maiden schoolteacher. Now I was on fire.

Afterwards, I couldn’t sleep. I fumbled in the dark and found the press clipping that Stephen had given me. Curiosity made me read it.