I’m bowled over. ‘Wow. Mate, that’s such an honour. I don’t deserve it.’

‘Er, you so do. Wanna take him?’ Craig suggests and I take a step back.

‘He seems happy where he is.’

‘You got kids?’ Ems asks.

I’m about to come out with my standard No, I’m still a big kid myself, but these two are ten years younger than I am. Plus, it feels like a bigger lie than it did a month ago. ‘A daughter. Casey. She’s twelve.’

Arnie raises his eyebrows. ‘You kept that quiet. Got a picture?’

I should have, obviously. Every dad has a picture in his wallet or on his phone. ‘No. New phone. Plus, me and her mum aren’t together.’

‘Bet that makes it extra special when she gets to spend time with her dad,’ Ems says. ‘The way Craig tells it, you’re a natural, especially with big kids.’

The baby starts to grizzle and they both look panic-stricken and decide to go home. I slap Craig on the back and touch baby Sammy’s head. It’s warm and smooth, like a freshly laid egg.

All the children have gone now and I’m more relaxed, from the heat or the beer. Do I spot her first, or has she already been scoping me out? One minute the girl is on the other side of the garden and the next she’s walking towards me.

She’s my age, which I like. I used to go for the student types, because those girls had the same ‘here for a good time, not a long time’ attitude as me, but now I’m out of my twenties, that feels grubby.

‘I’m Tegan and I’m so bored,’ she announces.

‘I’m Dan and I’m definitely not boring.’

Her laugh is sexy and her figure suits the vest top and boyfriend jeans she’s wearing. She points over at a tight group of couples gathered around the bucket of iced beers. ‘I’m escaping from the Bristol branch of the Smug Couples’ Collective. You’re not about to introduce me to your pregnant wife, are you?’

‘No. You’re safe with me. Where’s your accent from?’

‘Manchester. Well, Stockport, but you southerners have piss-poor geography, so let’s keep it simple.’

‘You’re a long way from home. What do you make of Bristol?’

‘Too many hills, too many vegans.’

I laugh. ‘Harsh, but fair. Where have you been so far?’

‘My cousin’s back garden, here, one off-licence and the station. Which had a nice roof, but I’m not into trains.’

‘Where I live – just over the river – it’s a different world. Might even give Stockport a run for its money.’

‘You offering to show me the bright lights?’

I hesitate. There’s something so familiar – almost wearying – about this banter, like reliving a moment I’ve experienced a hundred times before.

What am I doing? This week has done my head in and I deserve some fun. ‘We could walk it from here in twenty minutes.’

‘Ah, but can I trust you, Dan?’