I wanted to cry. ‘That’s not …’

‘You don’t have a fucking clue what it’s like for me. I’m like a caged animal up here. Surrounded by cunts in the camps, dozy little tarts in Blackpool who haven’t got a fucking clue …’

‘They seemed like nice girls.’ I sounded like my mother.

‘Nice girls! You can keep your nice girls. Oh, fuck this.’ He got up and walked towards the door, just as Geraldine and Valerie came in on the arms of two Reville airmen. Wright pushed past them.

‘Charming!’ said Geraldine, in a loud, slightly drunken voice. I caught Valerie’s eye, and we both looked away, ashamed.

‘What’s the matter, Medway?’ shouted one of the airmen. ‘Had a row?’ His mate sniggered.

‘Those two,’ said Geraldine, ‘are not what I would call gentlemen.’

‘No, love,’ said the airman, ‘they’re proper ladies, they are.’ He took a few dolly steps around the bar, flapping his wrists. ‘Well known, they are … Whoooooff!’

Wright’s fist connected with his solar plexus, and the boy doubled up, unable to breathe.

‘Anything else to say on the subject?’ said Wright, rubbing his knuckles. The other airman backed away, and trod heavily on Geraldine’s toes. She screamed.

‘Come on, Mike. We’re leaving.’

I followed him out. He was halfway up the street when I caught up.

‘What was all that about? You don’t mind what they said, do you?’

‘Why should I? I’ve been called worse.’

‘Okay.’ I thought it was best to change the subject. ‘So, what time are we going to the dance?’

‘Oh Christ, Michael, we’re not going to the poxy dance.’

‘I thought you wanted to see Don Lang’s Frantic Five.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘At least you’ve got a smile on your face.’

He laughed. It was like the sun breaking out from the clouds. ‘You’re a wanker.’

‘Thanks a lot.’

He put his arm round my shoulder. ‘Still, at least you’re my wanker. Let’s get another drink.’

We toured the pubs again, and when we’d done them all, we started again. By nine, we were plastered, but happily so. We ate fish and chips out of the newspaper, burning our fingers as we walked around the Tower.

‘Some Saturday night,’ I said. I was waiting for him to make his excuses and go pussy-hunting again.

‘What’s wrong with this? The bright lights, a bellyful of beer, some decent grub’ – he licked the salt and vinegar from his fingers, balled up the paper and lobbed it neatly into a bin – ‘and my best mate by my side. That’s good enough for me.’

‘I’m touched.’

‘Play your cards right, and you will be. Come on,’ said Wright, running towards a brightly illuminated stall. ‘Ten shots for a penny. I’ll win us a teddy.’

He hit every target, and won a huge pink teddy bear, which he handed to a wide-eyed little boy, and a goldfish in a bag, which I had to prevent him from releasing into the sea.