As it turned out, Adam didn’t leave any room or opportunity for us to address the question of whether he might or might not be Norman’s father. True to his word, he really didn’t seem to care either way. There was only one slightly scary moment when, midsentence, he stopped and poked Norman in the arm to make sure he had his attention.

“Oi, about this comedy thing you’ve got going, Normie. I mean, who knows, but it’d be funny if we were related, wouldn’t it? Because look at you and look at me. Little and Large! You know ’em? I’m the large, by the way, ha ha ha. Talk about chalk and cheese!”

Chalk and cheese were infinitely more alike than this buffoon and my son, but I thought it best not to get caught up in the details, and Norman had looked quite chuffed at Adam’s attempt at a joke.

“Anyhow, Normie, if you’re half as good as your Facebook page says you are, I might just have to keep an eye on you. I mean, you’re going to need a manager and some more social media platforms if you get famous, aren’t you? With my connections, you could be huge!”

I managed to pass off my genuine shiver as a cough because, secretly, I’d kind of been hoping never to have to cross Adam Linley’s path again, let alone inflict him on Norman on a long-term basis. And anyhow, I told myself, there was no career to manage. It was all smoke and mirrors and fake Facebook pages and disastrous talent nights and out-of-whack routines and unsuitable sperm donors and dead best friends.

I sat there listening to Adam witter on and thought that, so far, absolutely nothing had gone as planned and things were still moving faster than I could run away from them. Norman still didn’t have a proper show prepared, and all I’d succeeded in doing was finding one father who didn’t want to know, one who did but wasn’t, and a third that was Adam Linley.

The thing was, though, even while I was busy working myself up, I couldn’t help but notice what was happening with Norman. There was a whiff of something different about him, and this time it wasn’t anything that had come out of a bottle or a tube. He was chatting away easily to Adam, politely answering his questions and even offering the occasional shy smile. There was a kind of glow about him. He was even sitting up straighter than usual, like he was perfectly capable of holding his own against Adam and it was just another day in the office. Not another day on the road to the biggest and scariest event of his life. What the hell had been in that Chinese tea? I got a sudden sharp twang of pain from whatever was down there fighting over the two sides of my scar and wondered if perhaps I shouldn’t give it a whirl myself.