‘My brother has a few,’ said Omar. ‘He’s the lead singer, and … well … girls seem to like him.’ He nodded towards a family photo sitting on top of the cupboard, in one of Shona’s chunky wood frames. It was a half-posed picture from that summer, with all of them at the sunny garden table. Shona and Parvez were standing behind the boys with poised smiles to the camera, waiting for the timer to go off, while Sharif and Omar were sitting at the table with part-finished beers in front of them, looking at each other and laughing at some private joke. Omar liked the picture, as there weren’t many photos of him laughing and he thought it made him look less like himself. Although there was the telltale give-away of the beer, whichever way Omar looked at the photo, whether with eyes wide or with a squint, it always seemed to him that Sharif’s beer glass was half-full, and his own was half-empty. He wondered if that’s what other people thought, too. He looked expectantly at Jim, waiting for the inevitable comment, the one that tended to follow in just a few seconds. One … two … three …

‘Christ, your brother’s good-looking!’ said Jim, right on cue. Omar gave a disappointed smile at being proved right again; even his brother’s two-dimensional image in a four-by-six-inch frame was more influential than him, when he was sitting here, real, living and breathing and offering tea and biscuits and sanctuary. Jim saw what he had done instantly, and added diplomatically, ‘I mean, your whole family’s bloody good-looking. Your dad looks like James Bond. And is that really your mum? She looks about thirty.’

‘Yeah, well, add ten and you’d get it about right,’ said Omar, unoffended. ‘So, like I said, Sharif gets all the girls.’

‘And what about you? No little band bitch waiting for you back in London?’ Jim said affably.

Omar shrugged, and smiled despite himself. ‘Nope, no band bitch. No bitch at all. Unless you count the new puppy that’s at home. What about you? Have you got a girlfriend back in Cornwall?’

‘Nope, no girlfriend, and no boyfriend either; just a pitifully large circle of close acquaintances to make up for the gaping hole in my sex life.’ Jim sighed comically, and took another slurp of his tea. When he saw Omar’s jaw drop, Jim asked, ‘You knew I was bi, didn’t you? It’s hardly a secret; one look at my record collection gives it away.’