Fair play to Adam, he didn’t even bat an eye as we emerged at an above-average pace and I stammered out something about needing to make just a little bit of a run for it. In fact, he was the model of efficiency.

“Righto, then. Bags on, bags on. Come on, come ON, hurry UP!”

He waved his arms wildly, indicating for us to pile our luggage onto the rack at the back of his scooter and not taking no for an answer. It was quicker to comply than to argue. I grabbed Norman’s hand and set off in the lead at a smart but I hoped not too attention-drawing jog in the direction of where Leonard had parked the car, a couple of blocks away. After a few minutes, a couple of corners and no sign of any hotel staff in pursuit I started to breathe a little easier.

I’d assumed Leonard was right behind us, judging from the “Jolly good, keep going, lads, left here, that’s it” that had been coming from the rear. But when I turned around to check that Adam had not absconded with our bags, I got what could well go down as one of the biggest shocks of my life. And it was the moment I realized that maybe there was hope for Adam’s redemption after all.

Because there, traveling low in a dangerously deep Adam-sized indent on the mobility scooter seat was Leonard. Arms folded across his chest, imperious expression on his face and the oversize bulk of Adam lumbering along beside him with one hand balanced on the handlebars to steer and the other on Leonard’s back, holding him steady.

“Old bastard was slowing us down,” he wheezed.

Amid Leonard’s protestations, I saw Adam give Norman a slow, sweaty wink and a very cheeky grin and, quick as you like, I was transported back thirteen years. Oh, that guy. Now I remember.

With all the leaving we’d done in the past week, it felt like we were old hands at saying goodbye in front of the Austin. As Leonard busied himself checking the boot was packed Tony’s way, Norman made sure his shoebox of Post-it notes was within easy access on the back seat and I hovered around, keeping a vague lookout for housemaids. Adam was back in the warm embrace of his scooter like the miracle of his recent resurrection had never happened.

“So, Normie. Or should I say Little Big Man, eh?” He held out his hand. “Well, good luck and all that, kid. I don’t know if you’re funny, but at least you won’t be playing to an empty house now. And, by the way, you’re welcome, ha ha.”

Norman smiled shyly and stepped forward to put his scaly little paw into Adam’s.

“It...it was really nice to meet you, Adam, and thanks very much for your help. And I... Well, even though you didn’t get to meet him, I reckon my mate Jax would have really liked you.”