Becky swallowed her anger with some difficulty. ‘Danny’s my son and I’ll deal with things my way,’ she said flatly. ‘And I’m not pandering to his obsession, as you call it – just trying to ease him out of this terrible mourning without doing any further harm.’

‘All this modern talk is stuff and nonsense,’ she snorted. ‘He’s ten, and quite old enough to listen to some straight talking.’ Gwyneth folded her arms and regarded her granddaughter evenly. ‘If this continues, and you don’t do anything decisive to put an end to it, then I will.’

‘I love and respect you, Grandma Gwyn, but you will do no such thing. This is my business, and I’ll handle it as I see fit.’

‘It’s not just your business,’ she snapped. ‘This is affecting all of us.’

Becky was saved from answering by the clatter of the screen door.

Danny didn’t seem to notice the brittle atmosphere as he came into the room wheeling the shiny black bicycle. ‘It’s a beauty, Granny Gwyn,’ he breathed, barely able to contain his excitement. ‘And it’s even got a special toolkit in a leather pouch – and a bell – and a light.’

‘Glad you like it,’ said Gwyneth, who was still clearly in a bit of a huff.

He beamed back at them as he repeatedly rang the bell Hugh had attached to the handlebars. ‘Billy’s going to be green with envy,’ he declared, his little face becoming solemn. ‘But I’ll let him sit on the crossbar if he wants.’

‘He won’t need to do that,’ said Hugh. ‘I fixed up your old bike for him – gave it a new mudguard and chain and a lick of paint.’

‘Oh, ripper, Grandad,’ Danny yelled. ‘We can have races when George comes over.’ He forgot he was ten and all grown up, threw his arms round each of them and gave them a sticky kiss before he manoeuvred the bike back towards the door. ‘See ya later,’ he shouted as he pushed his way outside, bumped the bike down the steps and was gone.

‘We won’t see either of them until they get hungry again,’ murmured Becky. ‘Thanks, Dad, for doing that for Billy.’

Hugh shrugged. ‘He’s a nice kid and I thought it was time he had a bike of his own.’

‘It’s not just the bike, Dad,’ she replied with heartfelt warmth. ‘It’s seeing Danny smile again – being a little boy.’

‘Long may it last,’ muttered Gwyneth.

*