“They have mushy peas,” said Finn. “They have everything.”

“Including Qualipies,” said Ava.

“What’s a Qualipie?” asked Caroline, from the doorway.

“No idea,” said Finn. “Never had one.”

“So why are we talking about them? Is this another one of your stupid jokes?”

“It was a sign,” said Finn.

“In the window of the fish and chip shop,” Ava added.

“And it said… ”

“Qualipies.”

“The name says it all!” Finn and Ava were laughing now, enclosed in a warm bright circle of remembrance.

Is it just me? Caroline wondered.

I’m going to kill Finn in a minute, Paul thought to himself. If I have to listen to him braying with laughter about nothing one more bloody time…

“Um,” said Caroline.

“Let’s just go, shall we,” said Paul wearily.

The fish and chips, unexpectedly, were marvellous. Paul broke open crisp light golden batter to reveal thick white flakes within, steaming and firm and savoury. Beside him on the wall, Finn squeezed a neat blob of ketchup from a packet and dipped a chip into it.

“These are fantastic,” said Paul.

“Finn always knows where the best food is,” said Ava, putting her head on Finn’s shoulder for a moment. Paul hadn’t noticed until then that Ava wasn’t sitting next to him.

“That’s true, actually,” said Caroline. Her hair blew into her ketchup. She pushed it impatiently away. “I hadn’t noticed before, but you’re right.”

“Everyone’s blessed with one special thing,” said Finn. “The restaurant would have been rubbish.”

“You don’t know that,” said Paul. “You haven’t eaten there, it could be brilliant for all you know.”

“I don’t need to eat there,” Finn insisted. “I already know what it’s like.”

“Because you went there once back in the nineteen-seventies when you were five?”

Ava stirred uneasily, but Finn patted her shoulder.

“Firstly, it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night and the only full tables are the ones in the windows. Secondly, the extractor fan smells funny.”

“How can you know the extractor fan… ”

“Because I went round the back and smelled it.”

“For the love of God, why?”

Finn held up a hand. “Don’t interrupt. Thirdly, the chef’s too thin. Never trust a skinny chef, it’s unnatural. And fourthly, I asked the guy on reception what he thought of the restaurant, and he said it was awful and no-one with any sense would eat there.”

“When I talked to him,” Paul protested, “he told me it was a great place to eat and he’d book me a table.”

Finn shrugged. “I suppose he must have liked me more than he liked you.”

“Or maybe he remembered selling you an ice-cream as a child?”

“Paul,” said Ava.

“I’m sorry, but – actually no, I’m not sorry. I’ve just had enough of this whole attitude – I know this shitty little place better than you do because I used to come here ten years ago when my parents were still… ”

“But the fish and chips are really good,” said Ava very loudly. “I’d much rather be here than in the restaurant. Caroline, did you get a drink? Do you want some of my Coke?”