didn’t have the heart to burn it, son. It’s just too painful for me to look at photos like that. I loved your mum very much you see? I still love her now, after everything. Being a grown-up is complicated like that. But it’s your photo, Dennis. You keep it safe.” Dad’s hand trembled as he passed the charred photograph back to his son. Dennis looked at it again, then slid it carefully into his breast pocket.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said.
“All right?” said John as he entered the room. “You coming back to school then?”
“Yeah,” replied Dennis.
“That stupid headmaster changed his mind,” added Dad.
“Well, I think you’re very brave going back,” said John as he put some stale slices of bread in the toaster. “Some of the older kids might pick on you.”
Dennis looked down at the lino.
“Well, you need to look after your brother then, don’t you, John?” said Dad.
“Yeah, I will. If anyone has a go, I’ll have a go back. You’re my brother and I’ll protect you.”
“Good boy, John,” said Dad, trying not to cry. “I’ve gotta go boys. I’ve gotta drive a load of bog rolls to Bradford.” He walked over to the door, and then turned back for a moment. “I am very proud of you both, you know. Whatever you do, you’ll always be my boys. You’re all I’ve got.” He couldn’t quite look at them as he spoke, and then he quickly left, shutting the door behind him.
Dennis and John looked at each other. It was as if an ice age had thawed, and the sun was shining for the first time in a million years.
“It’s a shame you missed the final,” said Dennis as they walked to school together.
“Yeah…” said John. “I just had to, you know, hang around outside the leisure centre with my mates.”
“That’s funny. I thought for a moment I saw your face in the crowd, but I suppose it must have been someone else.”
John coughed. “Well… actually, I sort of was there…”
“I knew it!” said Dennis, smiling. “Why didn’t you let on?”
“I was going to,” spluttered John. “But I just couldn’t run on to the pitch at the end and do all that hugging stuff. I wanted to, honest, but… I dunno. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’m glad you were there, even if you didn’t tell me. You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Thanks. Sorry.”
They walked in silence for a moment.
“What I still don’t get though,” ventured John. “Is why you did it?”
“Did what?”
“Put on that dress in the first place.”
“I don’t know really,” said Dennis, a puzzled look crossing his face. “I suppose because it was fun.”
“Fun?” said John.
“Well you know when we were younger and we used to run around the garden pretending to be Daleks or Spiderman or whatever?”
“Yeah.”
“It felt like that. Like playing,” said Dennis confidently.
“I used to like playing,” said John, almost to himself, as they continued down the street.
“What the…?” said John, as he and Dennis entered Raj’s shop to find Raj resplendent in a bright green sari.
And wig.
And full make-up.
“Morning, boys!” said Raj in a ridiculously high-pitched voice.
“Morning, Raj,” said Dennis.
“Oh no, I’m not Raj,” said Raj. “Raj is not here today but he has left me in charge of the shop. I’m his Aunt Indira!”
“Raj, we know it’s you,” said John.
“Oh dear,” said Raj dejected. “I’ve been up since dawn putting this look together. What gave it away so quickly?”
“The stubble,” said Dennis.
“The Adam’s apple,” added John.
“Those big hairy hands,” continued Dennis.
“All right, all right, I get the point,” said Raj hurriedly. “I was hoping I’d get my own back by fooling you, Dennis, after you played that trick on me!”
“Well you very nearly did fool me, Raj,” said Dennis kindly. “You were incredibly convincing as a woman.” He smiled, looking admiringly at Raj’s outfit. “So where did you get the sari?”
“It’s my wife’s. Luckily she’s a very big lady so it’s a good fit.” Raj lowered his voice for a moment and looked around so no one else could hear. “She doesn’t know I’ve got it on so if you see her it’s best not to mention it.”
“It’s OK, Raj, we won’t,” said Dennis.
“Thank you so much. Good tip about your headmaster Mr Hawtrey, yes?” said Raj with a wink of his eye-liner caked eye.
“Oh yes, thank you, Raj,” said Dennis, winking back.
“What’s that about Hawtrey?” asked John.
“Oh nothing. He just likes to read the Sunday Telegraph that’s all,” said Dennis.
“Well, we’d better go, we’re gonna be late,” said John tugging his brother’s arm. “Erm just this bag of Quavers, please, Raj.”
“Buy two bags of Quavers, I give you one extra one free,” said Raj with great delight at his new special offer.
“All right then,” said John. “That sounds good.” He picked up another bag of Quavers and gave it to Dennis.
Raj then produced a single Quaver from a bag. “And there is your free Quaver. So that’s two bags of Quavers… 58p. Thank you so much!”
John looked confused.
“Good luck today, Dennis,” exclaimed Raj as the two boys left his shop. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
Entering the school gates, Dennis spotted Darvesh waiting for him holding a brand new football.
“Do you fancy a kick-about?” asked Darvesh. “My mum bought me this yesterday. We’re allowed to play with proper footballs in the playground now,” he added, bouncing the ball triumphantly.
“Really?” said Dennis. “I wonder why Hawtrey changed his mind…”
“Do you wanna play then?” asked Darvesh eagerly.
At that moment Dennis saw Miss Windsor parking her yellow Citroen 2CV. It wasn’t so much a car, more a dustbin on wheels, but it was French, and she loved it.
“I’ll catch up with you at break, OK?” said Dennis.
“OK, Dennis, we’ll have a proper game then,” replied Darvesh, doing keepie-uppies as he made his way to the classroom.
“John, wait here a moment, will you?” said Dennis. “There’s one thing I still need to do.”
Dennis