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drizzle and jogged towards the queue at the open door of the nineteenth-century Territorial Army building.
    He grinned. ‘Same as you – this and that.’
    ‘Must be a better bit of this and that than I’ve been fucking about with. I’ve been on the circuit now and again, daily rates.’
    ‘Still got your house?’
    I shook my head. ‘Renting – a studio flat in north London, near Tufnell Park.’
    He slapped me on the back. ‘There’s fuck-all wrong with you, is there? You need to sort yourself out, mate. Get a roof over your head and a good woman under you.’
    We filed in. The bar was doing a roaring trade. The bowls of peanuts on the veneered tables were already nearly empty.
    ‘There they are.’
    Dex and Cinza were standing by a table on which sat two fresh pints, and Cinza was clearly trying to work out what the hell was happening – why all these people were drinking and shovelling peanuts down their necks like there was no tomorrow.

13
    Dex put down his G-and-T and held out the two pints. ‘Here you go, chaps.’ He toasted each of us with a clink of his glass and then presented his friend. ‘Nick, I’d like you to meet Cinza.’
    I raised my glass. ‘Hello.’
    Cinza had a mineral water in her perfectly manicured hand. ‘Now I have met two of your friends, Dexter.’ Her accent was as cut-glass as Dex’s – and about as sincere as the Queen’s. ‘Shall we go soon? I have a dinner this evening and—’
    ‘No, Chinni – three.’ Dex lifted his glass. ‘To Tennyson.’
    We toasted him, but there wasn’t even enough time to get my glass back on the table and my fist around what was left of the peanuts before Cinza started having words with Dex about their travel arrangements.
    Red Ken leant towards me. ‘Tenny was getting out after this, you know. He got zapped the last week of his tour. Nightmare, eh?’
    ‘I always thought he’d be in until they kicked him out or carried him out.’
    Dex had been chewing the slice of lemon from his glass during the negotiations. Cinza finally lost patience and got on her mobile. He turned to us. ‘Actually, we persuaded him to come in on a little venture of ours instead.’ He turned back and interrupted her call. ‘Chinni, darling, I’ll drive you back in plenty of time. Just a while longer to talk to old friends.’ He kissed her cheek as she waffled away in Italian, then turned and winked at us. ‘She’ll be fine. So hot-blooded!’
    She certainly was. As she closed down her mobile she stormed off in the direction of the door, with Dex trailing behind. ‘Darling, just a few more minutes . . .’
    Red Ken took a gulp of Stella, then stopped halfway and watched how the men in her path reacted. It was like the parting of the Red Sea; their eyes followed her every move. He lowered his glass and wiped the sides of his mouth with his finger. ‘We all did our time, lad, and what have we got to show for it, eh? Fuck-all, apart from a regimental tie or a padded coffin. Once you’re dead or out, who gives a shit about you? So fuck ’em, I say. Steak for them, burgers for the likes of us – I’ve had enough of it. Time to have some of the prime beef for ourselves. The same goes for Dex – and the same went for Tenny too. He only stayed in because he had to provide for the girls. Old soldiers just fade away? My arse – we have plans.’
    ‘Plans?’
    ‘Can’t tell you, son, unless you come in. I’m glad you’re here – me and Dex were hoping. The three of us had kept in touch.’ He smiled. ‘Not like you, you shite. We need a third man now Tenny’s gone.’
    Dex reappeared, a little out of breath and with one cheek even darker than usual. ‘She loves me really – I think.’ Cinza had obviously treated him to a good slapping. He palmed the small beads of sweat from his shaved head. ‘I’ll call her tomorrow.’
    Red Ken tutted like a disapproving dad. ‘Loves you? You only met her yesterday. Fucking soft in the head, lad, you.’
    Dex