‘I’m kinda fucked since all the temp staff buggered off back to wherever,’ Mick Touch tells him. ‘That’s the trouble. Give it a month and it’ll be back to ghost town round here again.’ He ploughs his fingers through his gelled grey hair. ‘Tell you what: I’ll let you keep some of your tips. How’s that?’

He mimes spitting into his hand and holds it out.

With a choice only of agreeing or finding a new employer, the deal is sealed.

Mick locates a name badge from under the bar. ‘Today, you shall be known as Mo,’ he says, laying it atop the pile of clothes.

Will’s been working part-time at Smugglers Pub and Dining for nearly two years. Like most of the staff, his is a cash-in-hand arrangement – four quid an hour with a fiver bonus if it’s a public holiday. Ordinarily, he washes up, fetches ingredients from the fridges and cleans down the kitchen when the grill chefs are done. It’s a job he rather enjoys; the pace and heat make him feel like he’s working in the engine room of a cruise liner, and he creates his own fun by running a tally on every shift of how many times the C-word is used. He worked a double last Easter Monday when the current record of 412 was set.

‘Now tell me, Mo,’ Mick Touch says, ‘do you want to know the secret to being a successful waiter?’

‘I suppose.’

Mick stares at Will while nodding slowly.

‘Erm, I don’t get it,’ Will says uncomfortably.

‘It’s almost witchcraft, Willy boy.’ He’s still nodding.

‘What is?’

‘I call it the Magician’s Nod. You try it. Imagine I’m a table of punters. Ask me if I’d like another round of drinks. Go on.’

‘Can I … get you some … any more drinks, maybe?’

‘No, thank you!’

‘OK. Sorry.’

‘And now, Willy boy, nod while you ask me. Give it some Magician’s Nod.’

Will does as he’s told.

‘Yes, I’m rather thirsty, now you mention it. Another round, young sir!’ Mick grabs Will’s shoulder. ‘The power of persuasion, it’s an incredible thing. Now ask me if I’d like any sides.’

‘Any side orders?’ Will has finished the sentence before remembering to begin the ridiculous nodding.

‘Perfect! Onion rings, please. And, fuck it, let’s have some garlic mushrooms while you’re at it.’ He thrusts the uniform into Will’s chest. ‘You’re an absolute natural. Get yourself changed.’