Alfie and James repeated their sparring from earlier. Bulky and slow, they grunted, turned red and wound up on the floor in a stalemate. Capstick declared Alfie a narrow winner, mainly because he wanted the third bout to count for something.

Bruce Norris was a few centimetres shorter than an average bloke. Slim, muscular and so fast that opponents often found themselves on the floor and bloody-nosed before they got to make their first move. Ning was the same height. Her broad back and muscular arms made the Chinese state pick her as a future Olympic boxer when she was a little kid and you could see why as she went eye-to-eye with Bruce.

‘Fight,’ Capstick snapped, as the sweaty onlookers hummed with excitement.

Bruce did what he did. He swept in fast and brought Ning down with a leg hook. It looked like it was over inside three seconds as Bruce dived on Ning’s back and tried to wrench her arm. But her powerful shoulders didn’t yield the way Bruce expected and there was huge power in the flying knee that slammed him in the ribs and sent him off balance.

Now Ning rolled on top. Bruce writhed as Ning got a knee across his chest and started pounding his face with her gloved fists. If more was at stake, Bruce might have taken the pain and tried to throw her off, but he didn’t fancy doing the rest of his mission prep trying to breathe through a broken nose, so he thumped on the mat to submit.

The crowd seemed delighted by Ning’s shock victory. Even the Crustys, who now faced gym laps.

‘Losing it, Bruce!’ Alfie shouted.

Ning’s own celebration was muted. She knew Bruce had made a tactical surrender as she gave him a hand off the mat and strolled towards an equipment bin, peeling her gloves.

‘You hit hard,’ Bruce said, grinning.

Ning had beaten enough boys over the years to appreciate the ones who didn’t bitch and make excuses when they lost.

‘You’ve never seen me fight,’ Ning said. ‘I’ve seen videos of your campus championship bouts. You always did the same thing against fighters in the early rounds, when you thought it would be easy.’

‘My mistake,’ Bruce said, smirking as he ripped off a boxing glove and lobbed it into a canvas bag. ‘I certainly respect you now. And I’ve broken my nose too many times down the years to push that one too far.’

Ning shrugged. ‘You’d beat me every time if you knew my fighting style.’

‘But you played me,’ Bruce said, unable to contain a huge smile as he eyed Ning. ‘Gotta admire that. You heading straight to uni when you leave CHERUB?’

‘Can’t decide,’ Ning said.