‘Why should I?’ and he looked at me trying to see what I’d do. I threw a stone and hit one of his mates who gave a look like it stung him on the leg – he looked stupid. They all did, they hadn’t seen it coming. It stopped them jumping up and down. I threw another one and missed – they flinched – another one hit Gilbert from my class on the knuckle. He dropped his stick and it fell backwards off the roof. Everyone joined in stoning Ian Barrett and his gang. There was nothing they could do, it was raining stones. A whistle went off from a teacher on the steps but we ignored it. What could they do up on the roof with their sticks? The ones only in his gang because they were scared started climbing down off the roof. We let them off with a kick. One by one, they were skimming down the drainpipe but the stones got thicker and even the girls joined in. A stone caught Ian Barrett on the lip. The ones who were with him because they were gonna win got lots of people kicking them. The bell started ringing. I told people let them go, and they ran off. The last ones, his mates, looked at him, climbed down and got pushed about. They ran off, leaving Ian Barrett alone on the roof, holding his stick.

‘What you gonna do?’ said Patrick.

‘Leave him,’ I said.

‘We won the war, in 1944!

Guess what we done?

We kicked ’em up the bum!’

Lots of people didn’t want to go home because we’d won, but teachers started coming out and made them stop stomping round the playground and go home. They called Ian Barrett down off the roof.

I waited for him outside school. I had Patrick sticking to me, so we sat up on a car bonnet together and waited.

He came out without his stick. He had a welt bruising up on his lip, and stopped when he saw us like he was thinking of running.

‘All right?’ I said.

He nodded.