began designing his own plate. ‘Well, I just got pissed on, that’s all.’
‘What?’
‘This morning, it was hammering down, and I didn’t even know where my class was. By the time I found my way there, I was absolutely drenched. Naturally everybody laughed their tits off.’
‘Knob.’
‘I guess you’re right.’ He pointed at James’s plate. ‘Oh, by the way, I farted on that.’
James stopped chewing, one side of his mouth turned up in amusement, his nostrils flaring in disgust. Richard burst into an open-mouthed smile like an orange segment.
James moved the ball of food to one side of his mouth. ‘Oh, it is on, bruv.’
‘Yeah? Well, you’re the one eating my fart.’
James started chewing again but couldn’t help giggling. He held his hand in front of his lips, his face burning as he tried not to spray a kaleidoscope of food across the table.
‘Don’t laugh,’ Richard said. ‘You definitely shouldn’t laugh. Otherwise, food will go up your nose, and you wouldn’t want that, now, would you?’
James’s body shook as his laughter forced its way out through his eyes and ran down his bright red face in salty rivulets. Finally, he forcefully swallowed the food. ‘So, bruv, what’s for dessert?’
‘I don’t know, just look in the fridge. I’m sure there’s some yoghurts in there or something.’
‘Hmm, I’m in the mood for something a little more substantial.’ He pointed towards his target with one eyebrow raised and a malevolent smile of a Bond villain. ‘I think I’m going to get myself some of your chin.’
‘We’re not playing Touch My Chin.’ Richard’s voice was more pleading than firm.
‘Well, here’s the situation. I’ve just discovered that I’ve been eating your fart, so now I’m going to try to touch your chin. You can either defend yourself, or you can just sit there and take it like a girl.’ James arose majestically, his right arm bent upwards at the elbow as if wielding a sword. ‘En garde.’
Richard sighed. ‘Fine. But I’m feeling good. You’re getting it this time.’
‘I’m shaking in my boots.’
Richard leapt in front of James and met his arm with his own. Like medieval warriors in a bizarre meat-sword duel, they stood staring into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to twitch.
James moved first with a lightning strike to Richard’s chin, index finger extended. Richard saw it coming. He sidestepped in what seemed to be slow motion and delivered a strike with his own pointed finger.
Yeees! Take that.
James parried when Richard’s finger was just millimetres from his chin.
Bastard. Thought I had you.
‘Well, well. You are feeling good.’ James took on a Bruce Lee pose. ‘Waaadaaah!’ In a flash, he tapped Richard’s chin, then opened his arms to an invisible, adoring crowd.
Richard held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, you got me. You win.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. This is far from over. Nobody, and I mean nobody, farts on my food and gets away with it.’
‘I didn’t really fart on your food, mate.’
‘That’s not the point. You made me think you had. Now take your medicine like a man.’ He struck another martial arts pose.
They had watched those old seventies films over and over, resulting in what Mum had called ‘the total destruction of the house’. In the end, the Council of Peace (aka Mum and Dad) had convened and ordered that these films were never to be watched again.
Richard responded with a flourish. ‘Hawah!’
‘Now you’re getting into the spirit of things, bruv.’
James whipped an open hand towards him. Richard parried, attacked, and parried again as James flickered past. Richard jumped back, crashing into the table. Pottery clattered, mugs rattled, and tea sloshed everywhere. He glanced back. James whirled in a blur, taking Richard to the floor with a leg sweep, and then cradled his chin in the palm of his hand.
‘Now, why are you being cheeky?’ he said as if to a small child.
Richard grunted. ‘I told you, I’m feeling good.’
‘This is more than just feeling good. What happened at school?’
‘Nothing. Just a normal day.’
‘Okay, have it your way.’ James used his first and second fingers to play the tom-toms on Richard’s chin. ‘Bop-di bop-di bop.’
‘Okay, okay, I met a girl.’
The hand lifted. ‘Aha, I knew it. What’s her name?’
‘Oh, come on.’
The fingers wiggled, ready to play the tom-toms again.
‘Fi.’
‘Fi? What’s her full name?’
‘Felicity.’
‘Felicity . . .?’ James asked as if confirming a message on a bad telephone line. ‘Ah wait, that’s Andrew’s sister.’ In his best Austin Powers voice, he added, ‘Felicity Shagwell.’ He released Richard and rose to his feet.
Richard rolled up from the floor. ‘What?’
‘Just a little joke I have with Andrew. Felicity, eh? She’s quite attractive.’
Hey, don’t talk like that about my girlf— ‘She’s also a nice person.’
‘And that is, of course, the most important thing.’ James sat down and began eating again as if nothing had happened, as if the prior five minutes had been as inconsequential as a fly landing on the wall.
Richard slid into a chair across the table with his own plate. ‘So here’s something I thought of today.’
James raised an eyebrow.
‘Whatever happened to our uncle?’
‘Uncle? What are you talking about? Dad’s an only child.’
‘He came with us to Devon at least once, I’m certain. But I can’t remember his name, and I can’t remember seeing him at all since—’
Since Mum left. Oh.
James fixed his gaze upon his brother. ‘Honestly, bruv, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
He’s lying. But why?
The
