I gape at him as he lifts my face and examines my black eye intently.

“Well?” he says. His voice is sharp, but the fingers he touches to the side of my eye are gentle. I blink at him, smelling the scent of oranges. I’m sure he doesn’t realise how close he’s standing, but I’ll take the time to enjoy it while I can.

Felix shifts position and realisation comes into Zeb’s eyes as well as discomfort, and he drops his hands from my face.

I mourn the loss of his closeness before I realise that he just said something. “Huh? What?” I say.

He shakes his head. “Did you hit your head when this happened?”

“No?”

He sighs. “Okay, this is just normal behaviour, isn’t it? I keep forgetting that.”

Felix breaks into laughter, and I shake my head before putting my glasses back on. “It’s a long story,” I say slowly.

“Ah, would it have anything to do with the very long email I received from Mr Sampson this morning?”

“It depends on whether that email is praise or recrimination.” He stares at me and I shake my head again. “Okay, a bit of both, then,” I say sadly.

“Into my office, Mr Reed,” he says, waving his hand towards the door as if I’ve forgotten where it is.

I square my shoulders. “Just so you know, this is totally like being called in to see the Head. And not in a good way.”

“Is there a good way?” he asks, his mouth twitching at the corner as he shuts the door.

“In porn there is.”

“Ah, I can’t help feeling, Mr Reed, that watching porn has given you rather unrealistic expectations of life.”

I slump into the chair opposite his desk. “Maybe. But I have realised by now that it’s never that easy to get a plumber.”

He can’t help the smile this time, but he quashes it remorselessly and sits down in his chair before resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers together. It’s a thoughtful pose, but I can testify that it’s a better interrogation technique than anything MI5 use. And more threatening, I think morosely.

“Well?” he murmurs.

“Oh, okay then,” I say sulkily. “There might have been a tiny fight at the wake.”

He blinks. “And did you cause it?”

“No, of course not,” I say indignantly. He stares at me and I slump some more. “But I might have finished it. You should have seen Peter Sampson’s family. All of them glaring at him like he was Voldemort arriving for the wake, rather than just a gay man with his partner.”

“Pretend partner.”