‘Sure, sure. We can discuss all that.’ Dave’s eyes were bright with interest. ‘Bare-knuckle then?’

‘Whatever’s going,’ said Josh.

‘John said you were a champion. Among your own kind.’

‘He’s right.’

‘But no ambitions to go further with it? Go pro?’

Josh shrugged. ‘Whatever brings the wedge in, I’m happy to take on.’

‘Then I reckon we can do business,’ said Dave. ‘We’ll discuss the door stuff further, yeah?’ He pulled open a drawer and yanked out a sheet of headed notepaper. ‘Maybe some other stuff too. That’s my home address,’ he said, scribbling it down and shoving the paper across to Josh. ‘There. John said you’re married, right?’

‘Married with a kid. Little boy. Connor.’

‘Come out to dinner on Sunday and let’s see how we go. Bring your old lady, she can meet my Phil. Don’t bring the ankle-biter though, Phil can’t stand ’em until they’re teenagers.’

Josh took the paper, folded it, put it in his pocket. ‘That’s kind of you. Thanks.’

‘Come at four, we eat around six. OK?’

‘Fine,’ said Josh.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ asked Shauna from the bed when he got home later. He’d tried fumbling around in the dark, but his boots had hit the floor with a clatter and she’d woken up. ‘Shh! You’ll wake the sodding baby, I’ve only just got him back down.’

Connor was peacefully asleep in his cot under the window. Josh went over and stood for a moment, looking at his sleeping son, lit by moonlight, cosy as a bug in a rug. He reached down, touched a finger to one chubby little cheek. The baby didn’t stir. Josh smiled, and then he thought that – ah, shit! – this should have been his and Claire’s baby. He stopped smiling and sighed.

‘He’s fine,’ said Josh, turning away from Connor. ‘I been up West, doing some business at the Carlton.’

Shauna sat up. ‘Ain’t that one of the clubs all the nobs go to?’

Josh peeled off the rest of his clothes and climbed in. ‘It is.’

‘What they after then?’

‘They got trouble with druggies. Want someone on the door to stamp it out.’

‘You could do that with one hand tied behind your back,’ said Shauna.

‘That’s true,’ said Josh, relieved that the temper tantrum of earlier in the evening was over. She was like a penny firework, Shauna. She blew up, then ten minutes later she was smiling again. ‘Also, the owner’s invited us over to his place for dinner. Not tea, dinner, he said. On Sunday.’

Shauna looked at him, outlined dimly by the light of the moon. ‘Dinner,’ she echoed.

Josh’s head turned and his teeth flashed in a grin. ‘That’s what the nobs call it. And if they eat at noon, that’s called lunch.’