‘Greek,’ Fran says, then, spotting the blush of colour that’s appeared at the base of his throat, adds, ‘Although there are some particularly fascinating creatures in Norse mythology including Nidhug the dragon that feeds on corpses and Sleipnir, an eight-legged horse. It’s very easy to confuse mythical creatures. I frequently got them confused as a …’ She tails off before she says the word child. Phoenix is in his early twenties and she’s fairly certain he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. She needs to steer this conversation onto a decidedly less awkward track.

She smiles warmly at Phoenix. She’s met a number of oddly named children in her thirty years as a teacher. Her particular favourites are Aero (which always makes her think of chocolate), Jubilee (which makes her think of the Queen), Paizlee (which makes her skin itch because of the incorrect spelling) and, many moons ago, a poor child named Gordon Bennett.

‘Are your parents hippies?’ she asks.

‘No.’ He presses his glasses against his nose and clears his throat. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘It’s an unusual name.’

The blush on Phoenix’s neck creeps up to his jawline and Fran shifts in her seat. Now what’s she said to make the poor lad feel uncomfortable?

‘If I tell you a secret …’ Phoenix leans a little closer as someone else – a tall man with a stoop – walks into the lounge area and slumps into an armchair. ‘Will you keep it to yourself?’

Fran feels a little frisson of glee. She can’t remember the last time someone shared a secret with her. ‘Of course.’

‘Phoenix isn’t my real name. I changed it. Not by deed poll but I will, maybe when I get back home after this.’

‘How does it feel?’ Fran asks, admiring his gumption, then swiftly realising he’s not the only one to have walked into the retreat with a pseudonym.

‘Powerful,’ Phoenix says. ‘Well, it did, but now I feel a bit’ – he swallows again – ‘stupid.’

‘Oh no. You mustn’t feel that. It’s a wonderful name and you must embrace it. What was your – if you don’t mind me asking – what was the name you were known by before?’

Phoenix looks down at his hands. ‘You’ll laugh at me.’

‘I most certainly won’t.’

He glances up, looking at her from over his glasses, then whispers in her ear.

‘Oh.’ She presses her lips together, steadies herself and then says, ‘Well, I think you suit Phoenix much better.’

‘Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.’