It is the following evening and Will is in the Temple Arms pub. He’s been awake all night and spent the day in his room with the curtains drawn.

Danny sits opposite him, not speaking, occupying himself on his phone. Their table is in front of an inglenook fireplace; Will watches the flames as they dance and the logs as they vent – one thing, one person, on his mind.

‘A hand, you two?’ their dad calls over from the bar.

Seeing no reaction from Danny, Will draws himself away from the heat. Unlike Smugglers, this is no seafront tourist pub; the Temple Arms is the sort of out-of-town place that has regulars. Will steps over two sleeping dogs and sidles between their almost-as-comatose owners slumped on bar stools.

‘Either of you hungry?’ their dad asks, as he and Will return to the table with three pints of lager together with crisps, nuts and pork scratchings. ‘We can order dinner if you like.’

‘Might get steak and eggs in a bit,’ says Danny, surveying the menu dismissively.

‘Have whatever you like,’ their dad says. ‘Will?’

‘I’m OK, Dad. Not very hungry, thanks.’ He really isn’t.

‘Well, cheers,’ their dad says, raising his pint and taking a long draught. ‘Photo?’ He puts an arm round each of them, snapping away with one hand and holding his beer aloft in the other. There follows a minute of silence while he updates Facebook, as he does on these pub outings, usually with a strapline like #QualityDadTime or #DadOfBoys or just #Lads.

Since their parents separated, it’s been a regular fixture for their dad to drive down from London every other Sunday evening to take the two of them out. Although in his malaise, Will had managed to forget they were due to meet today.

‘How’s the driving going?’ his dad asks.

‘Gonna book some lessons soon,’ Will says.

In fact, he’s already had a few tries behind the wheel of Alfie’s old BMW on the dock roads, late at night. He’s taken to it naturally enough, although he’s not convinced that his teacher’s instructions of ‘Put your foot down’ and ‘Only one hand on the wheel’ are especially helpful.

‘Well, just let me know. Money’s sitting there waiting. And we’ll sort you a car for your birthday, like I promised.’ He nudges Danny. ‘Something better than this reprobate tanks around in.’

‘Never had any complaints,’ Danny says. ‘I only wear trousers in that car to keep my ankles warm.’ He and his dad laugh heartily, clinking their glasses.