“Just wait.” Nick began to twist his hands around in the air as if caressing an invisible ball. “Once you’ve put the child in the seat, you tilt it upwards so that the child’s bottom is resting at the lowest point of the structure, and its feet and head at the top, so the only movement it could possibly make is upwards, and that, as you well know, is an impossibility in a car.”

“Unless you drive off the side of a motorway and roll ten times down the embankment.”

Nick looked peeved at Dan’s negativity towards his idea. “No one should be driving that stupidly if they have a child in the car.”

Dan let out a resigned laugh. He wasn’t even going to bother trying to reason. “All right, you win. I just don’t see why you can’t put straps on the seat.”

“Because they’re damned uncomfortable for young babies.”

“Well, in that case, you’d be as well sticking their arse in a bucket and wedging them in behind the driver’s seat.”

Nick shook his head. “Come on, Dan, you’ve really got to understand what I’m trying to achieve here, because”—he aimed his forefinger at the centre of Dan’s chest—“I want you to handle the product marketing.”

Dan looked aghast. “You’ve got to be joking! I’d be better trying to sell Kalashnikov rifles to Toys ‘R’ Us!”

“You’d be getting paid for it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“On commission. And don’t tell me that a bit of income wouldn’t come in useful.”

Dan’s grin showed affection for his friend. Maybe he had been a bit cynical. Nick was only trying to help. “Well, that is very kind and thoughtful of you, Nick. I’ll tell you what, let’s talk about it again once you’ve found a manufacturer.”

Nick balled his fist enthusiastically. “Good idea.” He swept the drawing off the table and replaced it in his briefcase. He shot a glance of self-reassurance at Tarquin’s now-slumbering form before leaning back on the table. “Listen, I’ve got a plan for you and me tomorrow.”

“Really? And what might that be?”

“Well, how about heading up to Curzon Street and having a relaxed haircut and shave in Trumpers? It would be just like old times!”

Dan laughed. “A good thought, Nick, but firstly, I don’t need a haircut; secondly, I couldn’t afford it anyway; and thirdly, just in case you’ve forgotten, tomorrow is our ‘brew’ day. We can’t go without our unemployment benefit now, can we?”

“Ah,” Nick replied quietly through clenched teeth. “That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. The trip to Trumpers was meant to be, well, a sort of celebration.”

“Was it? Celebrating what?”

“The fact that I signed off the brew yesterday. I’ve got a new job.”

“Where?”

“In the City. With Broughton’s.”