‘Will your new boss be okay with you taking time off to go to the US so soon after you’ve started?’ Mum wants to know. A worried frown creases her forehead.

Time for the next porky.

‘He’s been really understanding,’ I lie smoothly. ‘He says I can take it as holiday or work remotely. He gets how important this is.’

CHAPTER 16

Brendan

The bad news is that Mum and Dad have come into London for the evening and issued a three-line whip for a family dinner. The good news is that they’re off to the theatre with my sister Mairead and her husband Peter, so dinner is early and I’ll be off the hook by seven.

Apparently, there’s a new hot shot stepping up tonight to play Jean Valjean in their all-time favourite show, Les Mis. Cue endless reminiscing (a euphemism for ribbing) about the time when they took us along as kids and I asked at the interval after an endless first half, ‘Which one is Les?’

They’ve never let me live it down.

Because Gabe and Athena are Madly in Love and playing house, they’ve offered to host everyone for a pre-theatre supper, and because my brother knew it would be a hard sell for me, he has a Nobu chef coming to serve everyone up some excellent Japanese. Not that Gabe’s not a decent cook. He is, but after a decade in the priesthood, his style can tend towards the meat-and-two-veg-sad-singleton-meal-for-one, which is not my idea of a fun Saturday night.

Even better, he’s promised me that the meal will be served up grazing style in the kitchen. He pitched it as a chance for everyone to be able to catch up and mingle, but really he knows there’s no way I’ll acquiesce to a sit-down dinner after a week at my desk.

Anyway, I rock up dutifully at five for early cocktails so we can get some adequate family time in before my parents and sister are spirited away to the West End and I can embark upon the next stage of my Saturday night, AKA the Getting Laid stage. From the way my brother is touching Athena by the wine fridge, it looks like they’re headed for the Getting Laid stage later too.

How my formerly celibate brother managed to land himself the hottest woman in London is a mystery that'll haunt me to my grave. Though I suppose I'm about to level the playing field with Marlowe. Just thinking about the two orgasms I gave her—left-field for her and one hundred per cent predicted on my part—makes me smirk.

That was a lot of fucking fun.