“Right.” Dan heaved out a sigh at the effort of trying to continue this stilted conversation. “And do you enjoy school?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “S’all right.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Was that you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was that you who called out ‘shit’?”

Dan bit at his lip in embarrassment. “Ah, well, yes, I’m afraid it was. Sorry about that.”

Murdoch thumped a fist down on the fingers of some unfortunate schoolmate who was grappling at the wall in an attempt to join him in his lofty position. “My dad never says ‘shit.’ ”

“Quite right too. It’s not a good thing to say.”

“He says ‘shite.’ ”

Dan cleared his throat. “Well, neither are very good words,” he said, his voice sounding oddly schoolmasterly. “Better not to say them at all.”

“No, probably not,” Murdoch replied quietly, slipping back into his monotone.

Dan gave the boy a wink, feeling quite pleased with himself that his short lesson in the avoidance of bad language had obviously penetrated the carrot-topped head.

Murdoch, however, looked menacingly questioning again. “What about ‘bugger’? Do you think that’s a good word?”

Dan was mercifully spared from answering the question by a male voice that boomed out from the other side of the wall. “Murdoch! Get yourself down from there and into your classroom.” The boy disappeared like a coconut that had been knocked off its perch in a fairground stall.

Dan was still staring at the vacant space when Katie, clutching the hand of a skipping girl with tousled dark hair, walked towards the car. She opened the door and pushed forward the seat, and the little girl clambered into the back.

“Sorry about that,” Katie said, as she got into the car. “You were right. There was a bit of a showdown with Max.”

“Not to worry. I was pleasantly entertained by a young man called Murdoch.”

The little girl in the back of the car made a noise that sounded as if she was being violently sick. “Murdoch is revolting!” she cried out. “He picks his nose and flicks it at people.”

“All right, Sooty,” Katie protested as she reversed the car. “I don’t think that we need to know that. Anyway, you haven’t said hullo to Mr. Porter yet.”

“Dan, please.” Dan turned around and smiled at the young girl who was struggling with the buckle of her seat belt. “Hullo, Sooty. Nice to meet you.”

“Where are you from?” Sooty asked without making eye contact with him.

“London.”

“I fought so.”

“Really? Now, how would you know that?”

“’Cos you sound as if you are off Eastenders.”

“Sooty!” Katie exclaimed reproachfully. “You mustn’t be so forward.”

“But he does.”

Dan laughed. “You’re right too. Mind you, my accent used to be a lot stronger than it is now.”

“Why has it changed?” Sooty asked.

“Probably working in the City all my life.”

“Why does that change your accent?”