Macy’s only reply was an irritable huff as she turned and stalked out. Her mother and father exchanged long-suffering glances, then followed her into the living room. ‘It’ll be okay, love,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s only for two nights. And I’m sure Holly and Olivia’ll do something fun with you.’

‘Holly only ever offers to take me to the zoo, like I’m still six,’ Macy complained. She picked up her toy trikan, based on the weapon from the movies rather than the real artefact, from the coffee table. ‘And I love Olivia, but she’s really old. She can’t do anything fun.’

Nina sighed. ‘My little girl’s already turning into a teenager. And she’s only ten!’ she said to Eddie, before turning back to her daughter. ‘So what do you want to do?’

A shrug. ‘I dunno.’

‘Yep, definitely sounds like a teenager,’ Eddie said.

Macy pouted, spinning the trikan on a short length of its string like a yo-yo – then whirled towards Eddie and sent it flying at him. ‘Hey, Malkovich! Think fast!’

It was a family joke from the film Being John Malkovich, warning that the other person should duck. Eddie did so – but not quickly enough. The toy deflected off the top of his head as he bobbed, hitting an ornament on a shelf. It fell to the floor and smashed.

Macy gasped in dismay. Eddie stared at the broken pieces, aghast. Nina, meanwhile, had to use every ounce of self-control not to whoop in delight. ‘Oh . . . no,’ she managed. ‘That’s a shame.’

The broken object was a pottery cigar-box holder in the caricatured shape of a beaming Fidel Castro, which had come with the Englishman when the couple first moved in together – and which Nina had long since abandoned hope of ever removing from their home. She tried not to smile about their daughter doing it for her.

Eddie regarded the debris for one last moment, then, with a heavy breath, crouched to collect the fragments. ‘Oh Dad, no, I’m so sorry!’ Macy cried, kneeling to help him. ‘Can you fix it?’

‘No, it’s bust,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Oh well. Guess it did its job.’

As far as Nina knew, it had never held a cigar in its life, and she was sure he didn’t mean its everyday purpose of storing loose change. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Didn’t I tell you where it came from?’

‘I always kinda suspected Cuba, but no.’

‘Hugo gave it me as a souvenir while we were doing a job in Cuba, yeah.’ He nodded towards the framed pictures occupying part of one wall: Eddie’s former comrades-in-arms, many of whom were now dead. Hugo Castille had been his closest friend during his time as an international troubleshooter. ‘We actually met Castro, you know,’ he added, almost as an afterthought.