Now, just up the road are some of the best curry houses in London. But no. Bev, who’s gone all outdoorsy since Herefordshire, wanted to go picnic up on the Green Bridge. This is a foot and cycle bridge that crosses the Mile End Road linking the two halves of Mile End Park. Since the bridge was constructed this side of the year 2000 it has a ton of retail space built into its base and one of these places was called Rooster Piri Piri, where you can get a reasonably priced double chicken burger and chips. Even if me and Beverley both agreed that their extra hot Piri Piri sauce was a bit mild by our standards.

We found ourselves queuing behind a bunch of young men with matching beards and black framed Malcolm X glasses who were making a complicated bulk order. Their fathers might have been from Bangladesh or Pakistan, but their accents ranged from local London to Glasgow with, I noticed, a side trip to France on the way.

‘Engineering students,’ said Beverley as they argued about how to divide up the bill.

Once they’d finished constructing their order we got ours and took it up the steps to the bridge and then across to where there was a decent bench and, importantly, we couldn’t see the Grand Union Canal.

‘It’s bad manners for me to sit too close to the canal,’ said Beverley, ‘without asking Mrs Canal’s permission.’ Which Beverley reckoned was more trouble than it was worth, given that she didn’t think it was that scenic a canal.

‘There are swamps with a better flow rate than hers,’ said Beverley.

Now, I’ve met the Goddess of the Grand Union Canal. And she’s perfectly nice, you know, providing you bring her a banana – preferably free trade.

So once we’d stopped fighting over the remaining chips I asked Bev whether she could maybe see her way to facilitate an off the record meeting with her sister.

‘Can’t you just go around and talk to her?’ asked Beverley.

‘Even if I make an unofficial visit,’ I said, ‘she won’t talk to me without her brief present.’

If she’s sensible, I thought, which she is.

‘I am not getting involved in this,’ said Beverley.

‘I’m not asking you to get involved,’ I said.

‘Yes you are.’

‘Okay, yes I am.’

‘And I’m not going to get involved.’

‘Olivia’s your niece,’ I said. ‘And she’s sleepwalking her way into a serious drugs charge.’

‘And Tyburn is my sister,’ said Beverley. ‘My older sister, and she holds grudges forever. And I mean forever. Besides, it’ll never get to that – Tyburn will fix it.’

‘And how will she do that?’

‘If it comes to it you know she’s going to march to Fed HQ and tell your boss to lay off – who’s going to stop her?’

‘I’m going to stop her.’

‘Why?’