‘Look, Mum, I told you white people would start arriving soon,’ he calls into the kitchen.

His mum looks up from behind the fridge and shouts, ‘Behave yourself.’ She lifts out a tray of meat skewers and searches for somewhere to put them but every surface is packed with marinating meat, burger buns, drinks and bowls of salad. Lewis takes the tray and shoves it on top of the microwave. ‘Mum, this is Emma and Yvie,’ he says, without effort to differentiate which one is which.

‘Yvonne,’ she corrects.

‘Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Julie.’ The woman stretches out her hand to them both.

‘I baked,’ Emma says as her eyes cast over the three plates of luridly coloured cupcakes on the table. ‘Sorry, they got a bit squashed on the journey over.’

Julie cradles one of the shabby cakes in her hand. ‘Look at that. How kind.’ She peels off the paper wrap with slender fingers, ‘Mmm, so much nicer than that additive-filled crap the boys bought from Costco. Always better to make it yourself at home, then you know what’s in it.’

‘Exactly,’ Emma says. Though her cakes came from a Nisa box mixture she panic-bought in the off licence last night.

‘Lewis, get these ladies a drink,’ Julie says as she adjusts her head wrap.

‘Course. Though, I’m not sure we have anything to suit Yvonne’s exotic tastes.’ He nudges her arm and while the touch is teasing, almost childish, it’s still a touch. She shouldn’t have come.

There’s RnB playing, something old and smooth with a woman faking an orgasm in the background. Emma laughs and Julie looks up, embarrassed. ‘Lewis? Switch off this nasty baby-making music.’

‘Yes, Mum.’

Yvonne wishes she didn’t like him so much.

They are directed outside into the sprawling, messy garden, filled with children wiping down plastic furniture with dishcloths and an old man too immersed in painting planks of wood to acknowledge anyone. They sit, drinking wine and watching as the sky darkens over the barbecue.

‘Emma, what time did he tell you to get here?’ Yvonne asks.

‘I’m sure he said three.’ There’s noise from inside the kitchen, laughing and talking. ‘See, other people are starting to arrive now.’

Two men with paunches and unfashionable dad clothes come outside. They say hi then struggle to put up a cheap-looking plastic marquee over the barbecue. More people filter into the garden, yet Lewis never comes over or introduces Emma to anyone.

Julie struts about kissing people, absorbing compliments on how good the spread looks and the crack of her laughter can be heard over the music. It’s obvious where Lewis gets it from, this easy charm.