‘That’s not really true, is it?’ their mum says. ‘Who’s the young lady I’ve seen trotting off down the front path in the small hours twice these past few weeks?’

She grins at Danny, her eyes glazed from sinking a bottle of fizz on an empty stomach.

‘Mum!’ Danny whines.

‘Aha! Up to his old tricks,’ their dad shouts. ‘Different days, though – you sure it was the same bird, Tori?’

Their mum laughs. For a few seconds there’s no atmosphere between his parents, and Will experiences a shot of nostalgia, like catching the smell of primary school or hearing a long-forgotten Christmas song.

‘Don’t be shy,’ their dad says. ‘Tell the class.’

‘I imagine she has a name?’ their mum says.

‘April,’ Danny says. ‘That’s probably who you’ve seen.’

Will does his best not to react to the invisible point that skewers his lower gut.

‘Nice. Pretty. Earthy,’ their dad says. ‘April. April. Like it.’

Why does a name feel like that, Will wonders, why does it actually hurt when they say it?

‘Serious?’ their mum asks.

Danny shakes his head. ‘Don’t be silly. Not up to my usual standards.’

Will turns away from his parents’ grilling of his brother. Nain gives him a sad smile. ‘Just listen to them!’ she whispers.

‘Anyway,’ their dad booms, ‘what about you, birthday boy? Anyone special?’

‘Or at all?’ Danny adds. ‘Ever?’

‘Now now,’ says their mum.

‘All those evenings walking Beppo …’ their dad says. ‘That’s an elaborate cover, is it not?’

Will scowls at Danny.

‘I didn’t tell him,’ Danny says. ‘Must’ve been Mum. You spend a lot of time walking Beppo. What’s the big secret?’

Nain looks pained. ‘Don’t listen,’ she mouths at Will.

‘So, not met any nice young ladies out dog-walking, then?’ their dad says. ‘Shame.’

‘I have not,’ Will says, conscious of how riled his tone sounds.

‘Any nice boys?’ Danny says, grinning at the table.

His dad stands and assumes a teapot stance, flapping his wrist around. ‘Oooh, any nice boys?’ he says, lisping. ‘Nice boys out on the marshes?’

‘Don’t be revolting,’ Will’s mum says, sniggering into her wine glass.

‘All the boys together,’ Danny says, camping it up. ‘Dogging on the marshes.’

Will feels his cheeks burning as he looks towards Nain, who rolls her eyes and tuts.

‘Enough of that now,’ Will’s mum says to Danny and their dad, who are already in fits of laughter as they take it in turns to mince round the patio with ever-more-tightly clenched buttocks. ‘He’s not one of those, thank you very much.’ She stares at Will’s glowing face. ‘Are you, love?’

Will says nothing. It seems it’s a rhetorical question.

‘Let’s get some more bangers on,’ their dad says to Danny. ‘Help me at the barbecue, my man?’