Dan raised his eyebrows. “Well done, you. Congratulations. When do you start?”

“Two weeks on Monday. I hope to hell that I can find someone to look after Tarquin by then. I don’t think that I’d be too popular if I turned up at work with him strapped to my front.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you’d consider . . .”

“No, Nick, I would not.”

“Right. Of course not. Well, it was just a thought.”

“So you’re obviously not going to be relying on the child seat to make your fortune.”

“No. I was just planning for it to be a sideline.”

Dan laughed. “Probably just as well.”

For the first time, Nick saw the funny side of Dan’s ribbing. “Yes, maybe you’re right.” He drained the remainder of his pint, put the glass on the table, and began to spin it round with his fingers. “Listen, Dan, once I’ve been with Broughton’s for a bit, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Dan shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’m not going back to the City.”

“Come on, Dan!” Nick exclaimed. “You’re too damned good not to go back. I just don’t understand why you haven’t had any job offers since September eleventh.”

Dan shot him a wink. “Ah, but I have, Nick. I just haven’t told you about them. Six, maybe seven, actually, but I declined every one of them.”

“But why, for God’s sake? You have to work, Dan.” There was almost a hint of desperation in Nick’s voice.

“I will, but not in the City. I think I’ve probably mellowed too much to get involved in the cut and thrust of high finance again. Anyway, I had my fair share of the pot of gold over the years. Maybe it’s time to put something back.”

Nick’s mouth dropped open. “That sounds a bit dangerous. You’re not contemplating going into the church, are you?”

“Bloody hell, no! Could you see me in a dog collar?”

Nick visibly shuddered. “No, you’re quite right. Stupid suggestion. So, what are you thinking of doing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure something will turn up.” His words struck a familiar chord, and he smiled to himself as he remembered Josh’s clever riposte a couple of hours before.

On the bench, Tarquin made a gurgling noise and fluttered his eyelashes, threatening to wake up, but then he just turned his head and settled back into a deep sleep. Nick took his jacket off the back of the chair next to Dan and laid it gently over his son.

“When was the last time you heard from Debbie Leishman?” he asked.

“I got an e-mail from her two days ago,” Dan replied.

“How is she?”

“She’s coping. Did you know that she’d had a baby?”

“Never. When was that?”

“In June.”