I open my mouth to speak but Nina strides across to us.

“Nina,” Jesse exclaims as if she’s his long-lost family. “How are you doing this fine morning?”

Nina ignores him. It’s a neat trick and one I wish I could learn, but here we are with no sign of that happening yet.

“Well,” she sneers. “You’ve managed to make quite the spectacle of yourself today, Zebadiah.”

I blink. “Have I?”

She waves her hand at Jesse. “Your companion is making a total fool of you. If you must pick up very young men, at least make sure you pick a classy one.”

“Now, you wait a minute,” I hiss, seeing her look of surprise. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never risen to her rudeness, having been taught to be polite at all costs to women. But I’m not having her talk like that about Jesse. “We really shouldn’t talk about classy behaviour, Nina, because you’re not exactly displaying it yourself. You’re acting like a fishwife.” I pause. “Why do we say fishwife?” Jesse grins delightedly and I shake my head. “Never mind.” I look hard at her. “I’m here because your son asked me to come. The same way he asked to live with me. I spent five years looking after him, and I’m glad to rest the burden on someone else’s shoulders. However, I promised him I’d be here, and I keep my word. But I detest pettiness and rudeness. You don’t know Jesse, and I won’t have you talking to him like that. He’s a wonderful young man with a big heart. I’d explain what that means because you patently don’t have one, but I’d lose the will to live, and we’re out of time anyway as I have to shoot pottery now.”

Nina stares at me. For once she’s speechless and I give thanks.

Jesse breaks the silence as adroitly as ever. “I think your cauldron’s bubbled over,” he says helpfully to her.

She grimaces at him and stalks away.

“Did you know her husband was in the SAS?” Max says.

Jesse looks thoughtful. “If you were trained to kill in twenty different undetectable ways, wouldn’t you have knocked her off at some point?”

“Bloody old bitch,” I say forcefully and Jesse and Max turn to stare at me.

“Not now,” I say wearily. “I’ve got to go and shoot an imitation pigeon. Fuck my life,” I bemoan. I stalk off just as Patrick says “Zeb,” and comes towards me.

Jesse

Max and I stare after the stiff back of Zeb as he marches towards the man holding the gun. The man looks rather hesitant which might have something to do with the way Zeb is scowling, but he still bravely hands over the gun.

“Well,” I say slowly, and Max gives a sudden bark of laughter.