Billy picked the satchel off his shoulder and spread it open on the floor. ‘I got . . .’ From the darkness within he pulled out a package. ‘A half-rack of lamb! Here, Conor, give this to Ma, she’ll have a fit when she sees that. And I got –’ from the bag he pulled another package – ‘shortbreads, shortbreads for the lot of you. Go on, have your fill! And I got . . .’ By now his father was standing over him. William Brogan senior had a curmudgeonly look. His face had once been as cherubic as Billy’s, but age had turned it doughy, and where his hair was not thinning it had turned silver as the stars. ‘Here, Pa, this is for you and Ma.’ Out of the bag came a green glass bottle. William Brogan looked it up and down. ‘That’s good red wine, that is, Pa. Fit for dukes and duchesses. Taste it. Have yourself a glass. There’s more where that come from. And I got . . .’ The last package he drew from the bag was what Billy considered the ultimate prize. Half a gateau had been sitting on the side in the hotel kitchen all afternoon, just begging to be taken.

He could see the way his father was looking at the cake. ‘Be still my heart,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the mountainous crags of whipped cream, meringue and candied lemon.

‘You oughtn’t be stealing!’ his mother called from the same kitchen where, moments ago, she had cooed with delight over the half-rack of lamb.

‘I’ve told you before. It’s not theft. It’s all piss to them that can afford better. They’d have poured that wine down the drain if I hadn’t have helped them out. That gateau was for the bins, or the chambermaids if they were fast enough. All I’m doing is a bit of . . . reorganising. Nobody’s any worse off and nobody’s any the wiser.’

Begrudgingly, his pa nodded. Then, as he always did, he muttered, ‘Mind you don’t get caught,’ and proceeded to dip his fingers in the fresh cream greedily.

Billy might have spent all day at the Buckingham Hotel, but his work was hardly done. After he had helped clear up dinner, there were seven rowdy youngsters to put to bed. He took it in shifts with his ma and pa – until, at last, not one of them was left awake.

‘It’ll be off to bed with you too, will it, son?’ his father asked finally.

‘And you, Pa. You got to be up before dawn, just like me.’