Eventually we ran into a group of squaddies from the army base, on their way to the Crystal Club, ‘the only place in town’ according to one of them, ‘and the pussy is literally dripping off the walls’.

‘That’s the place for me,’ said Wright.

‘But not me.’

‘Come on, Mike! It’ll be a laugh.’ But he didn’t sound enthusiastic. The soldiers were giving me strange looks.

‘Your mate looks like he’s had enough.’

‘I have,’ I said. ‘Me for bed.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Wright, looking cross. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Don’t wait up, sweetheart!’ called one of the soldiers, as they led him away.

I went back to the boarding house alone, and felt the landlady’s eyes on my back as I climbed the creaky stairs.

Wright stank of whisky when he got in at six a.m. He hadn’t slept, and he was unshaven. He tried to creep around, but of course made more noise than usual.

‘All right, Wright?’

‘I’m completely fucked.’

‘Wasn’t that the general idea?’

‘Not in the right way.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I need some sleep.’ He threw himself on the bed, fully clothed, and closed his eyes.

‘At least take your boots off.’

‘Can’t …’ His voice was already sleepy. I knelt at the foot of his bed and undid his bootlaces, easing his feet free. By the time both boots were off, he was asleep. I watched him until I got cold, and returned to my own bed.

Two hours later, he woke up, swore at length and started pulling at his clothes.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Disgusting. I smell like a wet dog.’ He was down to his underwear.

‘You’ll catch your death.’

‘I need a wash.’ He sniffed his armpit. ‘Jesus. Did I die in the night?’

‘Well if you did, you didn’t go to heaven.’

‘No, I bloody didn’t. Christ, what a shitty town this is.’

‘How was the Crystal Club?’

‘A fucking clip joint and full of hookers.’

‘Mission accomplished, then.’

‘Fuck off. I’ve got some standards. Half of them made my nan look like Brigitte Bardot.’

‘And the other half?’

‘I don’t pay for it, mate. If anything, they should be paying me.’

‘Glad to see your opinion of yourself is as high as ever.’

‘Damn right.’ He went into his posing routine. ‘Who could resist?’ He had a hard-on in his pants, probably just the usual morning piss hard-on that causes so much hilarity in the barracks, but possibly more.

‘Go and wash yourself before all the hot water goes.’

‘Ain’tcha gonna scrub my back?’

I threw a towel at him, and he ran down the passage. I could hear him whistling from the bathroom. I wished I’d never left Reville. This was worse than anything.

The rest of the morning went well enough. We dressed in civvies and walked all over the town, had an enormous breakfast in a café overlooking the sea, and even managed to see the French watercolours. Wright barely glanced at the pictures, but he was impressed by the Grundy.