Why I betrayed my friend over a bottle of rum

There are moments in a boy’s adolescence when he catches a glimpse of the man he will become. Faced with adversity, is he the brave sort – or the sort who runs away and lets others suffer? Aged 13, on a school trip to Portsmouth, I discovered I was the latter.

It was my first year at Bradfield College, a boarding school in Berkshire. About a hundred of us new boys packed on a coach. I vaguely recall the hooligan energy of too many young males in a small space: over-excited heads popping up to shout swear words in the direction of the staff at the front, then ducking down to avoid censure. Boys laughing, fiddling with plastic ashtrays on seats, showing off their Walkmans and Discmans, sharing headphones playing their edgiest music. It was 1993, long before smartphones.