‘You’ve lost me. Are we on conservation or planning regulations, or Brexit?’

‘We’re on “Why my father is a capitalist pig, by Bea Adamson”. Don’t be coy, what’s in that expensively educated socialist mind of yours?’

‘In Western culture, pigs represent the basest of human urges,’ said Bea. ‘Greed, obviously –’

‘There you go!’

She hated to perform for him.

‘You label yourself Capitalist and me Socialist just to put me in opposition,’ she said.

‘So?’

‘You think I blame everything on capitalism.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Alex? Capitalism?’

‘A society that runs on the exchange of goods or work for money,’ said Alex, eating, not looking up.

‘So there’s no alternative,’ she went on. ‘The socialist–capitalist polarity is false and outdated. Friedman v. Marx. It’s a twentieth-century obsession. A distraction. Both systems lead to oppression.’

‘So your lot are just going to sit around moaning,’ said Griff.

‘Our lot?’ said Bea.

‘Liberals. Commies. Whatever.’

Dan laughed at the word. Commies. It sounded so quaint.

‘What, you too? Christ,’ said Griff, angered. ‘Fine.’ He pretended to laugh about it. ‘You’re all commies. Seriously though, you are. The redistribution of wealth? What else would you call it?’

‘Just tax, normally,’ said Bea. ‘Tax, that’s all.’

‘Tax! Don’t start on tax. It’s nothing but a witch-hunt. Blah-blah Facebook, blah-blah Starbucks. You’d drive out the businesses – it’s all bullshit.’ He put on the high, mimicking voice of the whinging lefty. ‘It’s not fair! Why have they got all the money?’ and snapped back into his normal bass. ‘No! Why should I – why should anyone – give away what’s mine to incompetent politicians? Where’s the justice in that? The vast majority of corporations and companies, and individuals, are acting within the law –’

‘I thought you wanted me to speak.’

‘Speak then! Bloody hell, do you want a written invitation?’

‘Fairness. You accuse people you disagree with of moaning about how unfair things are, but you talk about fairness, too. Fairness and justice. It’s the most important thing to us all, more than anything else. When you hear someone in pain, or someone unable to accept hardship, or obstacles, it’s the unfairness that hurts them most. We’re all the same – I can bear any sad story if there’s some justice to it. If tragedy is the true consequence of events it hurts, but there’s a sort of rigour, there’s rightness to it. The thing that is the hardest for people, for societies to achieve, is a consensus on what is fair. It’s almost impossible. People will often talk with nostalgia about hardships they’ve endured in the past – wars or poverty – when they have endured them with other people. When we are together, when people are united, there is a sense of rightness that comes out of that, a belief and surrender. Good, healthy societies rely on that feeling to function. But so do fascist ones. The human need for justice can be exploited so easily, and waves of passion sweep over whole populations – the true belief that they are right – and then they’re liberated to do terrible things. The collective can turn either way. But one thing is true, always true – I think. I think it’s always true.’