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years. You remember him as the kid who wet himself when you ran to find a teacher and tell on Robert and Reg; now he’s coming to the end of his four-year hitch and is talking about getting out. The possibility of being sent to a proper war in the Falklands has shocked him. It’s not just about learning to drive a jeep and travelling to exotic places and German brothels, it’s about being shot dead on the other side of the world.
    The Lime Kiln is full, packed with drinkers whose fathers are still alive or have been dead for so long that it doesn’t matter. You and James have said little about Dad. You think that, as the Man of the Family, you should be able to say something to your brother that will make it easier. Nothing comes to mind.
    As you force your way through to the bar, a cheer goes up. You wonder why, then remember James is in uniform. There’s a drunken wave of patriotism going on in the aftermath of the invasion of the Falkland Islands, a frenzy of kill-the-Argies war-hunger. The barman is Max Lewis, with whom you were at school though he was never a special friend. James orders a couple of pints of bitter. A man claps him on the shoulder and offers to pay for the drinks.
    James, flinching from the touch, turns to accept… and freezes. Pressed close to James by the crowd, you sense the tension which draws your brother tight as a bowstring an instant before you recognise the man with the money.
    It’s Robert Hackwill, grown up.
    The Ash Grove School Bully has done well for himself. He wears a sheepskin coat and a trilby hat. His property business is flourishing and he is in line for a council seat. He has a flash car, a Jag. His smile splits the world horizontally in half.
    Hackwill repeats his offer.
    You look around for Jessup, never far from Hackwill, and spot him in a corner. Reg’s smirk is still there, shaped by the fat in his face. He’s still a sidekick.
    What will James do? It’s fifteen years later and Hackwill is off his guard. James is depressed enough not to give a shit. You know your brother must be thinking of breaking a glass in the grown-up bully’s face.
    You remember that day. When James wet himself while being given the worst Chinese burn in history and you ran to Mrs Daye, the Class Five teacher, and told on Robert and Reg. She saw the bullies off, ordering them to stay away from the school, and looked after the sobbing James, sending him home for the afternoon. You watched, wishing it hadn’t happened, wishing you could have done more.
    You have never talked about it with James. Dad commended you for doing the right thing, but you always knew you did it out of cowardice. James needed help
right then
, not to see you running off for a grown-up while he was being tortured. Ever since, James has worked to be self-reliant, self-contained. You realise now that you know very little about the man he has become.
    Max puts two pints on the bar. James picks his up carefully, getting a good grip.
    You can
see
the pint smashing against Hackwill’s smile, glass and beer exploding, blood and froth drenching his whole front.
    But James just takes a deep draught and swallows. He drains it.
    ‘Thanks, mate,’ he says. ‘Now have one on me.’
    Hackwill insists on buying the soldier boy another.
    You wonder if you were wrong. Maybe James hasn’t recognised Hackwill? The bully has obviously forgotten him, one among so many long-ago victims.
    Jessup comes to the bar and springs for a round. Your drinks are bought for you too. It is as if you and James were being picked up by a couple of queers, but you know Hackwill and Jessup aren’t like that. What they want from you two isn’t sex but the association with a potential war hero. You’d prefer it if they were just after your arse. The mateyness of these two blokish men, careering towards middle age while still in their twenties, hits you in the pit of your stomach. You think of the school custard that always made you want to puke.
    As the