“Okay,” Rupert says in a loud voice, taking hold of Doug’s arm and steering him towards the bar. “I think Doug needs a drink.”

“I think Doug’s already had several,” I mutter.

Doug laughs at Rupert as he steers him to the bar and says, “This is so much fun. Why have we never done this before, Rupert?”

Misha stares after the two men.

“Well, that was a bit odd,” I mutter.

“Pah!”

I jump at the explosion of sound that just came from my best friend. “Pardon?”

“Ten children? What is he? A member of the fucking Waltons?”

“He was joking, surely,” I say. I bite my lip. “I mean, hopefully that was a joke. I do like a man with a sense of humour,” I finish on an up-note.

“Well, you’ll be fine, then. You’ll laugh all the way through raising your massive army of children.”

I snort and give him a nudge. I’m rewarded with a smile, but its quickly replaced by a dark frown as Doug and Rupert come back.

“Here you are,” Doug says happily, throwing his arm over my shoulder and edging Misha to the side of the group. “Rupert says you’re not drinking?”

“Erm, no.” I hesitate and then decide to go for it. “I’m epileptic, so I don’t drink. I hope that’s not a problem.”

He smiles, and it’s very kind. “Of course it’s not,” he says, offering me a bottle of water. “Why on earth would it be a problem?”

I shrug and take the bottle from him. “You’d be surprised.”

He shakes his head. “People are cocks, aren’t they?”

“What are you talking about?” Misha asks in rather a rude tone of voice.

Doug grins wickedly. “I was just saying to Charlie here that it isn’t a problem for me if he doesn’t drink. I mean, what I most want is to walk through life with a man at my side whose eyes aren’t blurred by drink.”

“How about narcotics?” Misha’s tone is deadly sincere. “Do you have any objection to a serious narcotics problem?”

“Misha Lebedinsky,” I gasp. “I haven’t got one of those either.”

“Maybe you should develop one,” he mutters. “If this goes any further, you might need it.”

“Ignore him,” I say to Doug, who seems to be fighting a smile. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Oh me,” he sniffs dramatically. “I’m not the important one here.”

“You’re not?” I say nervously. He shakes his head, and I search for conversation. “But you’re a teacher, aren’t you? That’s such a lovely job.”

“A teacher.” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’re ten a penny. Now, librarians are another matter. This world needs more librarians.”

“Oh, I wish you ran the council,” I say faintly.

He nods happily, and Rupert sighs and swipes his hand over his eyes. “Doug,” he says imploringly.