‘Give me a chance.’

‘Did you see them?’

‘Who?’

‘The editors, the producers, the casting people, the agents.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘What did they say? Do they want me? What were the clubs like? Did you go to the 2 Is? How’s Poynter? Did he make a pass at you? What are the birds like? How are they dressing these days?’

He was all over me like an eager puppy. ‘I need to have a shit and a shower, Mervyn. Can you wait that long?’

‘No, I bloody can’t!’

‘Well unless you want to join me in the shower, you’ll have to.’

We met in the village pub, which was quieter than anywhere on the base. Wright was still full of questions.

‘Look, Mervyn,’ I said, ‘there’s no point in getting so worked up. We’ve still got months to do here.’

‘Fuck that. I’ll get out.’

‘And what will you do for a job?’

‘I won’t need a job. I’m going to be a fucking star, mate.’

‘Even stars have to eat.’

‘I won’t be short of people to buy me dinner.’

Of that I was sure. ‘Do you know what sort of world you’re getting yourself into?’

‘Yeah. Queers, mostly. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes. But not just that. It’s a shady business …’ I thought of Gerald, his wispy grey hair, his filthy beret. ‘You’ve got to watch out.’

‘You’re just worried someone will take me away from you.’

‘Don’t be …’ I had to swallow. ‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Look, Mike, I’m sorry. While we’re here, you’re my best pal and you’re the only cunt in the place I can talk to. But it’s not enough. Out there, there’s a lot of opportunities. I’ve got to grab ’em while I can.’

‘Don’t be so bloody patronising.’

‘What?’

‘Like I’m some lovestruck girl that you’re giving the brush-off.’

‘Why not? You’re acting like one.’

‘God, you have a high opinion of yourself.’

‘You’re pretty keen, from what I remember.’

Our eyes locked. It all seemed so hopeless, him and me, Stephen’s world in London, the future. ‘So I’m just a stepping stone, am I?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I’ll do, till something better comes along.’ I was in pain, and I wanted to hurt him back.

‘Oh, fuck this,’ said Wright, draining his pint and pushing back his chair. ‘If I want to be nagged, I’ll get a fucking wife.’

He walked out of the pub, combing his hair.

This time we didn’t speak for nearly two months. I lost sleep and lost weight. Wright was more popular than ever. He won another big boxing match, which I did not attend, and was given a gala dinner in the officers’ mess. He was off the base every weekend. He seemed to get as much leave as he wanted.

One night, we were both down for guard duty together. I tried to get the rota changed, but no go.

Hours passed with nothing but the essential exchanges. We took it in turns to walk around the perimeter, check the outbuildings, avoiding being together in the guard hut. Finally, towards three a.m., when the sky was pitch black and the rest of the camp as quiet as the grave, Wright came in, put his feet up on the table and lit two cigarettes. We smoked for a while without talking.