“The whole thing is a bit like that Tom Cruise film, The Firm. Pizza arrives at your desk for lunch, supper even, and they get you a taxi home at some ridiculous hour, and there's a gym you can use, but I could tell it was frowned on when I met Adam for a drink at lunchtime. It's like they own you."

I made a face. “Sounds a bit soul-destroying to me."

He threw his bag in the trunk. "Yeah, maybe."

I could tell he was a bit disappointed. It had been something of a coup to get a summer internship in the City, and Peter had had to jump through a few hoops and do tests and have interviews to get there. He hadn't expected to be anything other than pleased and excited at having completed it. We drove for a bit in silence.

"Well, you've got ages to decide yet, you haven't even started university."

"Oh, yes, I know."

Peter liked things tied up, though. He liked a plan.

"Publishing, maybe?" I ventured. "You've always loved reading and it's what you always intended to do?"

It was Peter's turn to make a face. "Except that's the sublime to the ridiculous. There's no money in that, apparently. Adam's uncle is like, right at the top of some big publishing house and he earns a pittance. I've heard it's one for the chicks."

My eyebrows shot up. "Is it, now? Darling, for the first time in your life you're about to be educated with chicks. I think you'll find them a surprisingly brainy bunch."

"And I think you'll find I was employing heavy irony there, Mum. Sorry I didn't create the quotation marks in the air to alert you." He grinned. “Trust me, I've met plenty of ball.., crushing girls."

"Ah. Right. Too slow."

"Just a bit."

Peter wasn't remotely sexist, I knew, but nonetheless, it was also the right time to leave that school, I reflected. I'd noticed his tone had become — not arrogant, but, well, more confident. Sandy, who lived next door to us in Fulham, had raised her eyebrows when I'd mentioned this and said: "And Jamie isn't?" Jamie, her son, the same age as Peter and a great friend since toddler-hood, was at the local comprehensive school and positively swaggered with confidence. Charm, too, I thought, although Sandy would groan if I said it. “It's got nothing to do with the school, Flora, or his advantages; it's the age they've been born into. I call it The Age of Entitlement. Poor beggers. They'll get the shock of their lives, soon, when the real world hits them.”

It had already hit Peter, I thought with some amusement. Six weeks in an office and he was world-weary already.