‘You’d have thumped him in the mouth by now.’

‘Too right I would’ve.’

‘Yeah, and after that, you’d never work again.’

She’d scowled at him. ‘What are you saying, mouse? I can’t be trusted?’

‘No. I’m saying Mr Mayhood has a different way of going about things.’

‘Well, I’m glad he isn’t gettting walked all over. But I wish he’d hurry up.’

‘It’s a big decision. Only right to hear the other side’s opinion.’

‘Christ, you’ve always got to be so bloody sensible,’ she said. ‘You must’ve been adopted.’

The fact was, he could see the merits of both arguments, although he didn’t fully understand the explanations. Still, when Quinn had thrown his arms up in the end and said, ‘That’s settled, then. No bother. Fine by me,’ he’d seen it as a victory. The more he’d walked around the site that day, the more his notebook had filled up with questions.

‘Disputes must happen all the time. I’ve had run-ins with the building trade myself,’ said Mr Kimball now. There was a trail of biscuit crumbs on his lapel, which Charlie wasn’t minded to point out. ‘But Mr Mayhood’s very even-tempered, in my view. I’d imagine he knows how to weigh the pros and cons.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’

‘Follow his example, you’ll do very well in life.’

‘I know, sir – Mr Kimball.’

‘What about your sister?’

‘What about her?’

‘Do you think she sees the Mayhoods that way, too? As good examples.’

‘I couldn’t say. You’d have to ask her that yourself.’

‘I will. I thought perhaps she might’ve said something to you about it.’

‘Nah.’ He let the smoke vent slowly from his nose. ‘Joy doesn’t tell me half of what’s inside her head, and if she did, I’d put it back.’

He could sniff the bait on Kimball’s questions when he fished for information on his sister. No doubt it was easier to get the knowledge second-hand than try and prise it out of Joyce himself. She was always guarded, always touchy – if anybody asked how tall she was, she’d say, ‘Come over here and measure me, if you can reach that high’ – so he had sympathy for Mr Kimball on that front. But still, he didn’t like to be the door that other people came to knock on for a short cut to his sister’s mind. His aunty used to do it, and his teachers used to do it, and the coppers had all done it, too. Ever since he could remember, he’d been answering for her behaviour, which wasn’t meant to be a younger brother’s job. It made him tense.

On the ride back from the building site that day, she’d been withdrawn, deflated. He’d tried everything he could to cover for her silence, running through the questions in his notebook, causing Mr Mayhood to twist round and say, ‘My God, Charlie, if I ever need a good amanuensis, I’ll know exactly who to come to.’

‘Is that a good thing?’