Dan’s pity was laced with excitement, his excitement dignified by sympathy. ‘You don’t need to worry,’ he said. ‘She’s changed her mind.’

Suddenly, he had Griff’s attention. He shouldn’t have said it. He should have waited.

‘Changed her mind?’

Dan tried to think of a way to say it and not sound greedy. Don’t worry, old man, when you’re dead I’ll have your riches.

‘Bea’s decided – I mean – she wants to ask you about her trust fund.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘She wants access, to –’ He couldn’t say money. ‘Some capital.’

‘Bea?’ said Griff. ‘Are you joking? You are absolutely fucking joking. How on earth did you manage that?’

Dan gave an awkward laugh. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Of course not,’ said Griff. His look held both respect and insult. ‘What has St Beatrice agreed to?’

‘We’re going to buy a house.’

‘Where?’

‘We’re not sure yet. There are nice houses in Dalston,’ said Dan.

‘Why Dalston? We’ve got a dozen standing empty much more central.’

‘We can get three or four beds in Dalston for under two million,’ said Dan.

‘That’s nothing,’ said Griff. ‘Dalston is still a shithole, but it’s coming up.’

‘I shouldn’t talk about it, without her,’ said Dan. ‘It’s not my – I mean, it’s not my money.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Griff. ‘You don’t have any, do you? Perhaps if she’s agreed to that, she won’t kick up about this.’

‘Maybe,’ said Dan, who very much doubted Bea’s flexibility would stretch to his doing public relations for a property developer.

‘Well,’ said Griff again. ‘What a turn-up. I didn’t think anything could surprise me. St Beatrice of the Trust Fund –’ He laughed.

Dan didn’t respond.

‘Right then,’ said Griff. ‘Is there anything more to see?’

‘Like what?’

‘You tell me.’

‘No,’ said Dan.

‘You’re right. I’ve seen it,’ said Griff. ‘I just wanted to get out of the house. I often think the British Empire was built by men just getting out of the fucking house. Shall we go? Couple of stops to make.’

‘No, you go on,’ said Dan.

Griff frowned. ‘Do you understand what I’m offering you? I’m offering you a career.’

‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘I know. I need some time to think.’

‘All right. Walk back to the car with me,’ said Griff.

His father-in-law was scared to walk through Peckham alone, in the middle of the day. Taking a smug pleasure in his discomfort, Dan walked him back across Copeland Park, past the Bussey, and through the covered alley, to Ashir, waiting in the Mercedes.