'Middle distance and cross country.'

'And is that something you'd wish to continue in the army?'

Danny paused before answering, reminding himself to say the right thing. 'As long as it didn't get in the way of my other duties.'

The sergeant laughed. 'I shouldn't worry about that, Mr Watts, the army always wants to sponsor top quality athletes. Look at Kelly Holmes – she did ten years in the army and look at her now: double Olympic gold medallist. Take my advice, you stay in training.'

'I will, sir. Thanks.'

'Sir? I'm no Sir. I work for a living.' The NCO pointed at the three small green stripes sewn onto his combat jacket. 'It's Sergeant. Now get yourself off to the showers while I wait for the also rans.'

As Danny jogged away towards the changing rooms he could see the next few years panning out exactly the way he'd planned. University, then Sandhurst and then a commission as an officer in the infantry. And on top of that, they might even pay him to run. It couldn't get any better.

The selection course ended with an after-lunch debriefing from the colonel in charge. He was a red-faced, cheerful old boy who told them exactly what they expected to hear: they'd all done very well and it had been one of the best RCBs he could remember.

'Bet he says that every time,' whispered someone sitting behind Danny.

The stifled laughter died away as the colonel reminded them that with only a certain number of bursaries available, some of them were going to be disappointed.

Thirty minutes later they were in the reception area waiting for the coach that would take them to the train station. They were a mixed bunch: a few, like Danny, comprehensive kids, but the majority public school, Officer Training Corps and Army Cadet Corps.

Some were from old military families. Four Pints had boasted he could trace his family all the way back to Wellington and the Battle of Waterloo. That was just before he was sick.