It was the day before Christmas Eve. No mention had been made of the timing of his visit, but Francis made it clear from the way in which he spread his meagre possessions across the surfaces of our guest room that he intended to stay for Christmas. On Christmas Day my father and I followed the groove of a well-established tradition. We woke in the morning and opened the stockings that each of us had prepared for the other (I always marvelled at my father’s intuitive ability to select presents that would have been appropriate about two years previously), and met the rest of the family at midday mass. We would then process in a series of people carriers to my eldest aunt’s house in Wimbledon, where we would have turkey, old feuds would be polished and ceremoniously produced like the family silver, and I would play with my young cousins. The thought of bringing Francis into this was rather like introducing a new letter to the alphabet, so well established and defined were the criteria. I was also terribly embarrassed at the thought of my uncle’s smelly feet and cheap whisky, and the fact that my cousins called me ‘lame James’. I had never lied to Francis about my private life, but there were details I had tweaked, a little smear of Vaseline on the lens I had used to relay my home and family. I tried to make a mental inventory of the variations between what I had said and what he would see. I was also a little concerned about Francis’s tendency towards excess. I wondered how best to inform him politely that I did not want any drugs to be taken in my house. To pre-empt him in this matter ran the risk of insulting him, implying that he could not make it through a week without taking something when he never would have dreamt of doing so. On the other hand if I did not tell him now, I might have to address the issue after the fact, and he would be terribly embarrassed. I had no idea of the right etiquette.

As he unpacked the last of his things, my thoughts were diverted along these lines, and I was unprepared when he said, ‘If you wouldn’t mind terribly, I was hoping we might not mention this to the others.’

‘Mention what?’ I asked.

‘My little visit.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Jessica and Lisa have a tendency to fuss, and Michael to talk. Look, I really don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I chose you because I knew I could rely on your discretion.’

This was his checkmate; he cornered my best intentions with a pledge of mutual trust.

‘It will be fun,’ he said, clapping me on the back, ‘we can enjoy a secret holiday. And your father is absolutely charming, I’m so looking forward to getting to know him better. I’m afraid I haven’t got you a present, Papa has not been too forthcoming with money this month, but I promise I shall get you something when we get back to university. This isn’t a huge imposition, is it? If you can’t have me I’ll be quite happy moving to a hotel. I just wanted to see a friendly face. It’s not good to spend Christmas alone.’