We found a table on the outskirts of the room and I bought us drinks. I saw people I’d worked with as a street-sweeper at the council during my university summers. More people shook my hand, beaming.

‘Is that your lass, Paul? She’s a corker.’

‘London! How much is a beer there?’

‘You were a bright lad, Paul. I bet you’re earning down there, yeah?’

I didn’t like to disappoint them. I just nodded and fought my way back to Emily.

*

We stayed for a few hours in the end. Emily was at the bar talking to a group of men. One of them was Wozza, the man who had doubted the accidentalness of Carl’s death on Facebook, the man who had made a contested but plausible claim to being ‘cock of the town’ in the mid-1990s. My phone rang.

‘Jesus, where are you?’ asked Sophie.

‘I’m in a Wetherspoons,’ I told her.

‘Obvs.’

‘Obvs. It’s banging in here. Where are you?’

‘I’m at home, working. God, are people happy there?’

‘Absolutely. They’re having a whale of a time.’

‘Fuck.’

‘It’s the best atmosphere in here I’ve experienced for years.’

‘Oh, God, let’s not go there. How is she?’

‘She’s at the bar, making friends with the locals and buying me a drink.’

‘So you weren’t missing me, then?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘What!’

‘I was distracted. I’m missing you now I can hear your voice.’

‘Liar.’

‘Look, she’s on her way back now. Can I call you later?’

‘I see. Choosing her over me.’

‘She is bringing me a beer.’

Emily put the drinks down and grinned, looking back towards Wozza.

‘Don’t you even want to know what I’m wearing?’ Sophie asked.

‘Don’t tell me. I couldn’t cope. I’ll call you back later.’

‘I’ll send you a photo.’

‘Looking forward to talking later.’

‘You do sound flustered.’

‘Obvs. Talk to you later.’

I cut the call and smiled at Emily, raised my glass. ‘Cheers.’

‘Who was that?’ she said.

‘My sister.’

‘You have quite a flirty tone with her.’

‘Brotherly.’

My phone buzzed on the table. I snatched it up and put it in my jeans pocket.

Emily looked at me. ‘I have some news,’ she said. ‘I was chatted up at the bar.’

‘I saw you were popular. Which one was doing the chatting up?’

‘The wide one. The rectangle in an orange tablecloth with a head on the top.’

‘Human head or bulldog’s head?’

‘In the middle.’

‘Yeah, that’s Wozza.’

‘Wotsit?’

‘Wozza.’

I told her about a time he had held me upside down to remove and confiscate the money from the pockets of my school trousers.

‘How long ago was this?’