Actually, they couldn’t pull in. They had to stop ten feet into the drive as they were met with a big set of closed iron gates with two concrete lions atop plinths on either side. There was an intercom. Josh got out of the car, pressed the button.

‘Yes?’ said a faint female voice.

‘It’s Josh Flynn,’ he said.

‘Come up,’ said the voice, and there was a whirring buzz and then inch by slow inch the gates opened.

Josh got back in the car. Shauna flashed him a big grin as he put the car in gear and tore on up the drive.

‘Jesus!’ She laughed out loud when they pulled up in front of the house after nearly a quarter mile of driveway had flashed by. ‘Thank God I got some new clothes for this.’

Josh stopped the car and turned off the engine. There was a Rover parked nearby, and a sporty little Triumph. He looked up at the house itself. What a fucking drum! It was white, huge and modern. It was a bloody mansion.

‘Blimey,’ said Josh, smiling at his over-excited wife.

Shauna was lit up like a Christmas tree. To be fair, Josh thought she looked fucking fantastic. Her almost black hair was piled up on top of her head, her body had long since regained its pre-birth shape, her make-up was faultless. She was wearing white hooped earrings and big dark shades. A teensy little bag sat on her lap – it had cost a small fortune – and she was wearing a dress that was orange and white stripes, with a long-zippered front and a big cut-away in the back to show off her lovely tanned skin. It was the sexiest thing Josh had ever seen, that dress. It looked good enough – almost – to take away the pain of the cost of the damned thing.

‘Let’s get in there then,’ he said, and for the first time Josh looked at his old Zephyr – he didn’t actually care much about cars, he wasn’t impressed by them in the least – and thought, Christ, what a heap of junk. She’s right, I do need a new one.

Shaun looked like a film star today, and she’d been in a mad pelt of excitement over this dinner, double-checking that the babysitter was lined up – she was – and then pulling Josh’s wardrobe open and looking at his clothes with a critical eye.

‘I thought I’d wear that jacket,’ Josh had said, coming into the bedroom to get dressed for the evening out, picking up his usual tan-coloured effort.

‘You will not,’ said Shauna, standing in front of the dressing table and tugging heated rollers out of her hair. ‘It’s the dark jeans, the white shirt, the grey jacket to match your eyes. I’ve laid it all out, ready.’