“You can say that again.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen him that cross since I spilt Tipp-Ex down his new Tom Ford suit.”

He smiles at me. “You seem to bring it out in him.”

“Is that good or bad?”

He hums and looks at Zeb. He’s talking to the organiser and has a frown of deep concentration on his face.

“I think a good thing,” he says. “He’s too fucking buttoned up for his own good.”

“He does like order,” I say, looking at Zeb as he smooths a hand over his navy and white checked shirt as if searching for wrinkles.

“He’s had to.”

Something about the grim tone catches my attention, and I stare at him. “Why?”

He hesitates for a long second and then comes to some form of conclusion. “This is very private,” he warns. He pauses. “But for some fucking reason I’m still going to tell you.”

“I won’t tell anyone else,” I promise, and he examines my face intently before nodding.

“His father wasn’t exactly known for steadiness,” he says slowly, his eyes going unfocused as if he’s remembering something. Then he smiles. “Eddie was one of the most charming men I’ve ever met. He was funny and loud and kind and very charismatic. When he came into a room, you knew it.”

“Are any of those things bad?” I look over at Zeb. The sun is kindling the waves of his hair, and everyone is watching him. “Zeb’s got the same charisma. People notice when he walks in a room.”

He smiles a little sadly. “The difference is that Zeb has willpower. He had to develop it very fast because Eddie didn’t have any. He was everyone’s friend and no one’s enemy and he loved a good time. Unfortunately, that good time meant womanizing and gambling.”

“Oh dear. I have a horrible feeling about where this story is going.”

He nods, staring at Zeb with a deep fondness in his eyes. “Eddie had a knack for making money, but he had an equal talent for losing it. Like the fairies at birth gave him too big a gift and had to hastily counteract it. He was exceptionally generous and lived like a king when the money was in, but then the next day he’d be dodging creditors and bailiffs. By the time he married my mother he’d had six wives. And the remarkable thing is they all loved him even after the divorces. There was something very lovable about Eddie.” He shrugs. “Even when you hated him, you still liked him.”

“Did Zeb hate him?” I ask tentatively.