‘Tuck in,’ his dad says, laying a platter of steaming meat in the centre of the table. He slackens the straps on his hilarious woman-in-lingerie apron and slings it inside through the back door. ‘I can’t help feeling we should have invited more guests.’

‘Thank you for that insight, Mike,’ his mum says. ‘I did ask him. No friends, just us. That’s what he wanted.’

‘Are you not having any bread, Danny?’ Nain asks, looking in amused horror at his plate, piled high with chicken thighs. ‘Or salad? Or pasta even?’

‘Bulking up, aren’t you, mate?’ their dad says.

Danny smiles and tenses, his pecs leaping up and down like there are two rats having a fight inside his vest.

‘The gym’s become something of an obsession,’ their mum says to Nain.

Danny beams, like someone might if they were being complimented on their charity work or groundbreaking scientific research. His commitment to working out – five days a week, often at six in the morning – is something Will can’t fathom. He’s equally bemused by the pictures of Danny’s mood-lit bare torso that are posted almost daily, with his slogan inviting his followers to ‘Dare to be Great’. A passion for taking photos is one of the few things the brothers have in common, though Danny points his camera the opposite way round to Will.

‘I just don’t know how you can enjoy all that protein,’ their mum says, as Danny grins.

Will watches as he rips chicken from the bone with his teeth, cheeks glistening with grease halfway to his ears. And he watches as his mum pushes pasta around her plate, washing down the occasional nibble with a gulp of wine. Tucking into his burger, piled with Stilton and onion rings, he thinks how he’s the one who has fun poked at him for being ‘weird’, but he’s the only member of this household with a healthy relationship with eating – what with Danny’s food-as-fuel approach and his mother’s just-enough-not-to-starve system.

‘Bet the chicks dig it,’ their dad says, winking at Danny.

‘Shut up, Dad,’ he replies, but gives a conspiratorial nod when he thinks no one’s looking.

It’s often said that their dad is ‘where Danny gets it’ – it being his charm, his way with the women, his credentials as a heartbreaker. All the stories from Mike Parks’ past tell of a popular all-rounder, as at home on the rugby field as addressing a hall of people as head boy. From money and uni-educated, he was considered a catch for a girl who grew up in Patten’s Island, and in the early years the boys’ mum was often congratulated for marrying above herself. Mike, just like Danny, was a golden boy.

‘Who you seeing this week, then?’ he asks.

Danny smirks. ‘No one special.’