By the time I got home, my father was at the off-licence buying wine for dinner. My mother was in the kitchen chopping vegetables, with Michael sitting at the table with Lego on a tray, pressing pieces together to make a chunky-looking dinosaur. The record player in the back room was playing a Rolf Harris album, She’ll Be Right. It was Michael’s favourite.

My mother asked me how the lesson had gone and I told her I didn’t hold out much hope for George’s freestyle.

‘So, all right then?’ she said, as if I hadn’t just answered that question. She put her knife down and reached for her cigarette packet. She took one out and tapped it on the box. ‘With Mr Lascelles?’

She glanced around at Michael, who was adding more bricks to shore up his dinosaur’s tail.

‘It’d be better if his pool was longer,’ I told her, ‘but other than that, I’ve got no complaints. He’s never going to be much of a swimmer, but I’m not sure he wants to be. Mrs Keene served me a two-course afternoon tea. Toast and Battenberg cake. Have you heard of Battenberg cake?’

In my whole life so far, cakes had only had flavours, not names.

She thought about it. ‘It’s that two-coloured one, isn’t it? With marzipan around it? I thought you didn’t like marzipan.’

‘I don’t mind it.’

She flicked the spark wheel on her lighter and lit her cigarette. ‘Tell me about Mrs Keene. What’s her role?’

‘She was in the kitchen when I got there. She made the tea and toast. I don’t know if she made the Battenberg cake, or if that was bought. She “does for” George. That’s what he said. I wasn’t sure what that meant, and I didn’t like to ask.’

She laughed. ‘Very diplomatic. It actually just means she’s his housekeeper, I think. What about the West Indian man?’

‘That’s Capability. The gardener.’ It sounded ridiculous when I said it. ‘At least, that’s what I think George called him.’

‘Capability?’ She frowned. ‘Are you sure? West Indians have names like Everton and Clive, but Capability is . . .’ She shrugged.

‘Just a regular noun?’

She laughed again. ‘Just a regular noun, yes. Like Temperament or Attribute.’ She drew on her cigarette and blew the smoke out of the right side of her mouth, away from Michael.

A shiver passed over me and made me twitch. The water in my togs had soaked through my tracksuit pants. ‘I should have a shower to warm up. Maybe even a bath.’

Rolf Harris was onto ‘Jake the Peg’ when I went up the stairs.

As I ran the bath, which was never quick, I sat on the edge in my tracksuit and socks with my towel around me. I was fine with marzipan, and it was only a thin layer anyway.