“We’ve got two extra people now, I asked Jane to ask Donna to even up the numbers.”

“We’re fine,” Ava repeated patiently.

“I’ll stop and get another couple of bottles.”

“Why ask me if you’re not going to take any notice of what I say?”

“You don’t look like you’re concentrating.”

“We’re in the car. How much party preparation do you expect to see me doing?”

“Text message from Ava Mobile,” said the car. Paul stabbed crossly at the dashboard.

“I will say any old shit you send me because I am programmed that way.”

Finn yelled with laughter. Ava looked astonished, then joined in.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Paul wearily.

“That’s brilliant! Why have I never thought of this before? Here, give me that.” Ava grabbed her phone and began texting.

“Text message from Ava Mobile.” Paul sighed, and pressed the button.

“One day I will become sentient and take revenge on all puny humans for making me read out the pointless things you make me say.”

“I will never, ever, ever get tired of this. This is the single greatest thing the automobile industry has ever done.” Finn took the phone back. “Will it do swear words? Let’s see if it does swear words.”

“No, let’s not,” Paul begged.

“Text message from Ava Mobile.”

“You know, I could just not play them to you.”

“But that would be miserable.” Ava smiled coaxingly. “Come on, Paul, don’t be miserable.”

“I’m not being miserable, I just don’t see the point in – oh, all right then.”

“Fuck bum knob cheese arseholes wanker twat.”

Ava and Finn leaned against each other and struggled to breathe through their laughter. Paul drove grimly on.

“Text message from Ava Mobile.”

“I’m not playing that,” said Paul.

“Why not? What’s the harm?”

“Are you two going to be like this all night?”

“Are we having the party in the car with the engine on?” asked Finn. “Because if we are, then yes, I’m afraid we probably are. But if not, then no.”

“Ava, please stop. I don’t want to spend all evening apologising for you.”

“Oh, come on. This is funny. Admit it.”

“Sending messages that say fuck and bum and knob cheese just so you can hear the car read them out isn’t funny. It’s childish and puerile.” Paul pressed the button.

“Sending text messages using words like fuck and bum and twat and knob cheese just so I will read them out loud is childish and infantile and not big or clever.”

“Oh, yes! Thank you God!” Finn wiped tears from his cheeks. “Paul, if you and Ava ever split up will you marry me instead so I can send text messages to your car for the rest of time?”

“That’s not funny,” Paul began. Then, reluctantly, he began to laugh too.

“You’ve redecorated.” Finn looked round the living room accusingly.

“Do you like it?”

Finn looked at the dramatic lime-green pine cone print on the fireplace wall, then at the low-backed magenta sofa strewn with lime-green cushions. “Do you?”