“There’s always room for one more with Charlie. He’s the best friend to have. That goes for me too. You’re my friend as well,” I say steadily.

He looks abashed and pleased and then smiles. “I could stay and help you shower him, especially if you’re both naked. That’d cross a couple of items off my bucket list straight away.”

“No chance,” I say, and his low laughter follows me into the other room.

“Can I do anything?” he asks.

“You could ask the receptionist if they’ll send up something sweet. An iced cinnamon bun if they’ve got them.”

“Feeling peckish?”

“Not for me. It’s for Charlie. He’ll sleep after the shower, and when he wakes up, he’ll feel like he’s got a hangover and he’ll be craving sugar. Cinnamon buns are his favourite. I keep some all the time in the freezer at home.”

He nods and squeezes my arm. “Consider it done.” He walks over to where Charlie is lying dozing with his eyelids flickering. “I’m going,” he says softly. “Feel better soon, Charlie.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and I lean over Charlie. “Up and at ’em, sunshine,” I say.

He groans. “Can’t you leave me here?”

“Of course I can,” I say steadily. “You can crawl under the duvet straightaway if that’s what you want.”

He considers that and then shakes his head. “No, I feel dirty.” A smile crosses his mouth. “Although not as much as normal. There’s a lot to be said for five-star housekeeping. That floor was spotless.”

“They should employ you,” I say, taking the hand he offers me and pulling him up. He wavers, and I steady him with a casual hand on his hip. “You could road test the carpets of England.”

“That makes me sound rather grand. I like it.”

We make it to the bathroom, and I lean against the counter while he gets undressed. I’m poised to grab him if he falls over, but he’s very touchy about his independence, so I usually settle for engaging him in conversation in the hope that he won’t realise I’m coddling him.

He pulls off his clothes and kicks off his shoes, and when he’s naked, I quickly strip down to my boxer briefs and then guide him into the shower. It’s a sign of how shitty he feels that he doesn’t make his usual protests. Instead, he leans heavily against me, ratcheting up my worry level by a few steps. He’s normally got his balance back by the time we get to this stage.

I straighten up and reach for the pink bottle of his shampoo, directing him to stick his head under the spray.