Chris laughs. “Did you think Lennie was the only ruthless Gentry family member? They’re all the fucking same. Don’t, whatever you do, play any board games with them. It makes World War Two look like a minor skirmish.”

The microphone squeals, and the man doing the calling steps up. “Afternoon, folks,” he calls. “Who’s ready for a full house?”

Everyone cheers and waves their cards in the air, and I find myself watching Mags’s face. It’s full of amusement and an open enjoyment. He isn’t mocking the people, just amused at the spectacle. His lively curiosity is why he’s so good at his job. Every detail engages him, and his eyes are busy flitting around watching the group of old ladies at the table next to us who are each handling ten cards with the air of experienced and ruthless bingo-goers.

I’m glad I’m watching him when the caller shouts out, “Eyes down for a full house. The first number is Kelly’s Eye.” Everyone bends their heads over their cards furiously, and Mags turns his disbelieving face to me. “What?” he asks far too loudly and is immediately shushed by the ladies next to us.

“Number one,” I say, checking my cards disappointedly and bending over his.

“What are you doing?” he says, grabbing his cards and holding them to his chest.

“Checking if you’ve got Kelly’s Eye.”

“It sounds painful. I don’t think I have that, or want it, come to think of it.”

“You have,” I say, reaching over and dabbing the number on his card. “Now pay attention. You’ve made me miss more numbers.”

He rolls his eyes.

“And it’s a knock on the door,” the caller says, and everyone choruses, “Number Four.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile as Mags immediately scrutinises his cards, looking as if he’s summoning the ability to defend the Prime Minister in open court for offences against hairstyles.

The caller continues to call out numbers, and the vast room is filled with noise and laughter that reaches the rafters. I’m glad of my choice to come here—the atmosphere is a lot more friendly than some bingo places we’ve been to. Someone calls a line, and I look around idly as it’s verified.

My smile escapes as I watch Mags being instructed on bingo call signs by the ladies at the next table with a lot of laughter. His face is full of amusement, and he’s extremely handsome in the simple outfit that he manages to wear like it’s couture.

A nudge startles me. I turn to my sister. “What?” I ask. “Cards not right for you, Len?”

She has a funny expression on her face. “They’re looking infinitely better than yours.”

I gaze down at my cards sadly. “No doubt about that. I’ve got dreadful numbers.”