The waiter returned with a beer and a tall, multi-coloured cocktail for Leanne, who smiled and sipped, moving her gaze between Tony and the musicians.

A blonde singer in a dark velvet dress introduced herself before launching into pop songs James recognised from the radio. Her voice filled the restaurant and the poolside terrace, until he found his foot tapping on the deckchair. Some couples were already dancing, and the singer encouraged them with jokes that led, each time, into another romantic song.

A crowd of hotel guests gathered at the doorway and started obliterating James’s view of Tony, so he crept past the flowerbed into the shadows where the deck chairs had been pulled aside by the pool attendants. From there, Leanne was hidden by the column behind their table.

A myriad of tropical reflections played across Tony’s face, and he gulped as the singer started another song. Perhaps Leanne had suggested a dance? He turned his body but kept his gaze on Leanne, and started some animated talk, pulling faces.

Suddenly, Tony’s gaze went up and he turned his head. Leanne must be going to the bathroom. A couple moved through the door onto the pool terrace, where they melted into one another with the rising lyrics of a new song. Others followed, taking over the space with their languid confidence.

Tony’s face was wide-eyed, like he didn’t know where to look.

James made his move as the singer went into a long, full-throated note with a broad confidence that drew every eye. She was so euphoric at her achievement that she gave the rest of her smile to James as he entered the room.

He turned to find his cousin’s table. Tony gave him a momentary look that revealed nothing, and then peered down at his drink as though it was the only place to hide. As he approached, James suddenly felt he might have gotten it all wrong, that what he’d experienced was just a hopeful dream imagined by a needy boy who’d shared a room with his older cousin. But when Tony looked back, his thick neck pulsated around a slow swallow.

James’s own throat had gone tense as he hovered. He felt a sudden need to plant his fingertips on the very edge of the table so that he didn’t keel over, just as every trace of alcohol and junk food rose out of his body in a wave.

Tony watched with horror as the singer looked back at the band, pulled a face, then stepped off the low stage to help.

‘He must’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with him,’ she said, then laughed as she grabbed the edge of the tablecloth, holding it to the side of Jamie’s head while the kid vomited into its folds.

The group at the next table made an awful, offended sound. Tony heard liquid hitting fabric and the unmistakeable back-of-the-throat retch.