In Pale Battalions (52 page)

“Who?” Lloyd looked confused, wedded as he was to the nicknames of fifty years ago.

“Fission,” said Harry, recalling with a mental turn of speed that surprised him the punning handle that had attached itself to his friend early in their Aberdeenshire exile.

(Nuclear fission had been much in the news at the time, though fish and chips had been more often in their thoughts.) “Barry Chipchase.”

“Yes,” said Askew. “He’ll be there.”

“Right. Your best mate. I remember.” Lloyd levelled a podgy forefinger at Harry, apparently considering this clinched the matter. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance of catching up on old times with Fission, would you?”

“He’s already up there, actually,” said Askew.

“He is?”

“All covered in the round-robin, Ossie,” said Lloyd. “No stone unturned.”

“Well, I— ”

“Can’t say no?” Lloyd cocked one eyebrow expectantly.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Same as us. You just can’t turn down old Danger when he wants to throw his money around.”

Harry had more or less promised to join the expedition by the time he saw Lloyd and Askew off on the train to London later that afternoon. An all-expenses-paid jaunt to a Scottish castle of which he had mixed but by no means harrowing memories won out over a weekend of house-clearing in Swindon every time. He was confident Donna would not begrudge him a brief amble down memory lane. He could never be accused of living in the past. But a fleeting visit to its poignant purlieus could surely do no harm.