“Right,” said George. “Right.”

He would have to make a speech at the reception, a speech that said nice things about Ray. Jamie would refuse to come to the wedding. Jean would refuse to allow Jamie to refuse to come to the wedding. Ray was going to be a member of the family. They would see him all the time. Until they died. Or emigrated.

What was Katie doing? You could not control children, he knew that. Making them eat vegetables was hard enough. But marrying Ray? She had a 2:1 in philosophy. And that chap who had climbed into her car in Leeds. She had given the police a part of his ear.

Jacob appeared in the doorway wielding a bread knife. “I’m an effelant and I’m going to catch the train and…and…and…and this is my tusks.”

Katie raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure that’s an entirely good idea.”

Jacob ran back into the kitchen squealing with joy. Katie stepped into the doorway after him. “Come here, monkey biscuits.”

And George was alone with Ray.

Ray’s brother was in jail.

Ray worked for an engineering company which made high-spec camshaft milling machines. George had absolutely no idea what these were.

“Well.”

“Well.”

Ray crossed his arms. “So, how’s the studio going?”

“Hasn’t fallen down yet.” George crossed his arms, realized that he was copying Ray and uncrossed them. “Not that there’s enough of it to fall down.”

They were silent for a very long time indeed. Ray rearranged three small pebbles on the flagstones with the toe of his right shoe. George’s stomach made an audible noise.

Ray said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

For a short, horrified moment George thought Ray might be telling the truth.

“My being divorced and everything.” He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “I’m a lucky guy, George. I know that. I’ll look after your daughter. You don’t need to worry on that score.”