William lived with his son. There had been several broad hints dropped that Eddie might care to move out and share with other twenty-somethings, and recently a friend of Eddie’s had even asked him if he wanted to move into a shared flat, but these hints had apparently fallen on unreceptive ground. ‘It’s quite an adventure, Eddie,’ William said. ‘Everybody at your stage of life shares a flat. Like those girls downstairs. Look at the fun they have. Most people do it.’

‘You didn’t.’

William sighed. ‘My circumstances, Eddie, were a bit different.’

‘You lived with Grandpa until he snuffed it.’

‘Precisely. But I had to, don’t you see? I couldn’t leave him to look after himself.’

‘But I could live with you until you snuff it.’

‘That’s very kind of you. But I’m not planning to snuff it just yet.’

Then there had been an offer to help with a mortgage - to pay the deposit on a flat in Kentish Town. William had even gone so far as to contact an agent and find a place that sounded suitable. He had looked at it without telling Eddie, meeting the agent one afternoon and being shown round while a litany of the flat’s - and the area’s - advantages was recited.

William had been puzzled. ‘But it doesn’t appear to have a kitchen,’ he pointed out.

The agent was silent for a moment. ‘Not as such,’ he conceded. ‘No. That’s correct. But there’s a place for a sink and you can see where the cooker used to be. So that’s the kitchen space. Nowadays people think in terms of a kitchen space. The old concept of a separate kitchen is not so important. People see past a kitchen.’

In spite of the drawbacks, William had suggested that Eddie should look at the place and had then made his proposition. He would give him the deposit and guarantee the mortgage.

‘Your own place,’ he said. ‘It’s ideal.’