Once we’ve both collected bowls of runny trifle, I ask Tony if I can have a word. He doesn’t look thrilled about it, but I tell him it’s all right and guide him gently towards the empty end of one of the long tables. For a big bloke, he’s fairly . . . biddable. Mia and Femi are sitting at the far end, but they’re gassing away anyway and I know that if I talk quietly enough they won’t hear us.

‘I think you’re right,’ I say to Tony.

‘What about?’

‘You know . . .’

Just like that he goes from being wary to proper crapping himself. He starts looking around the dining room frant­ically, but I reach across and grab hold of his arm. ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I swear.’

He looks at me and gradually starts to calm down a little. His chest is still heaving, mind you, and it feels like he could bolt any moment.

‘Where is it?’ he asks.

‘I’m not sure, but you really don’t need to worry, because it’s not . . . your Thing. It’s mine.’

His eyes widen. Now he’s not going anywhere.

‘I reckon I’ve got a Thing too,’ I say. ‘But it’s different from yours, because I know it’s a person. I know it’s living and breathing and it’s walking about in here.’

He looks around again, but more slowly this time and a lot more sneakily, because suddenly we’re in this together. He reaches across the table and takes hold of my arm. ‘I’m so sorry, mate.’

‘Thanks.’ I shrug. ‘At least I know.’

‘It will kill you, you know that, right? That’s the reason it exists. So you need to be careful.’

‘Oh, I’m being very careful, and the best part is, I don’t think it knows that I’m on to it or that I’m watching out. Does yours?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Tony screws his eyes up and shakes his head. ‘It’s so bloody clever, though. Like one step ahead all the time.’

‘How did you find out about it?’