‘Back at the castle the baron became worried,’ James continued. ‘He sent out riders. Where were they? Finally he heard the sound of horses and rushed out to greet his returning guests.’

He turned and looked at me and his eyes reminded me of wet pebbles.

‘They rode right through him,’ said James. ‘Ghosts. Spectres. The whole lot. He was found weeks later by the king’s men who had come to see why he had not been paying his rents. He was white-haired and babbling and quite mad with fright. I heard that story when I was not much more than four. Like I say – it’s what you’re raised on.’

I wasn’t sure what to say in response. I liked the energy in his eyes and the fire with which he spoke but there was something about his glee as he described the deaths that I found a little unsettling.

‘I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight now either,’ I said, trying to make light of it.

‘Maybe just as well,’ he said, quietly, then dropped his voice further. ‘There’s something you might want to know. Look, I’m probably going to get into trouble for this …’

‘You sitting with a girl, Jimbo?’ came a voice from the top of the stairs. ‘Honestly, can’t leave you alone for a moment.’

Brian was mooching down the stairs in his dressing gown and pyjamas. His hair stuck up on his crown and his lip was curled as if he was smoking a pipe. Immediately James stood up.

‘What you talking about?’ asked Brian, jerking his head. ‘Causing trouble, Jimbo? Or storing up a few pictures to enjoy in your head at bedtime?’

He blushed and turned away, reaching past me and grabbing his coat from the peg by the door.

‘Tell Mam I got the early bus,’ he said, teeth together. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

I wasn’t sure whether to stop him or to say something sharp to Brian. It was hard to imagine them as brothers. There was a nastiness to Brian but it would be wrong of me to say that James was his entire opposite. It wasn’t sweet benevolence that oozed out of him – just a kind of harmless nothingness.

‘You can thank me later,’ said Brian, knocking me in the back with his knee as he leaned over me and watched his brother walk off down the road. ‘Saved your ears from bleeding.’

‘He was telling me a story, actually,’ I said, and it felt strange to pretend to be a grown-up with somebody who would respect me no more for the act.

‘Aye, like I said. You want more tea? Your hair looks nice, by the way. You’re pretty when you’re not soaked to the skin.’