‘No, no cheese – that’s a by-product of milk, cow juice, dairy, and therefore no.’

‘Humph.’ Her dad scratched his chin. ‘What about proper gravy with juice from the roast?’

‘No, Dad.’ Philip sounded exasperated.

‘Eggs?’

‘No.’

‘A Cornish pasty?’

Philip chose not to answer but breathed heavily.

‘I can’t think what you’ll survive on, boy! Lettuce?’

‘It’s really not that difficult, Dad. Carmen and I refuse to eat the flesh or by-products of innocent animals. If it has a face, I will replace!’ He lifted his hands as if spewing wisdom.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a pancake?’ Her mum shook her head, cracking more eggs into the Pyrex bowl.

Philip looked a little frustrated.

‘So what is it you eat, son? Lentils and potatoes and stuff?’ Her dad inadvertently wrinkled his nose.

‘Yes, when I can get lentils.’

Bessie recognised her brother’s veiled dig at their mother’s store cupboard, which was largely full of alphabet spaghetti, boxes of Frosties, tins of corned beef and Cup-a-Soup.

‘I saw you outside Wimpy two days ago, scoffing a burger,’ she said, blowing his cover.

‘Shut up, Bessie!’ he yelled, and she instantly felt bad for the revelation, but not enough to ignore the tender bait that dangled. It was too good an opportunity to have her brother on the back foot.

‘Don’t get mad with me just because I saw you consuming the flesh of innocent animals! And anyway, you should be extra nice to me today – it is my birthday.’

‘You think you’re so clever, Bessie, but I’ve heard it on the grapevine that there are far worse things to be doing after school than scoffing a Wimpy!’ he said, looking her right in the eye, his chest heaving.

She felt the cold wrap of fear around her head – did Philip know about her and Lawrence?

‘Anyway,’ she said, drawing breath and deciding to get the next jab in, ‘you’re only a vegan because Carmen is a vegan, and I honestly think if Carmen said run around the marketplace with your pants on your head eating a raw chicken, you’d do it!’

Her dad’s head drooped. ‘For the love of God, your mother is cooking pancakes, you’re supposed to be opening your gifts and this is not the atmosphere we want on a special day. Please, please, try and be nice to each other.’ He looked at his wife. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been saying that since they were babies! Why can’t they be friends?’

‘Just give her her bloody presents, Eddie.’ Her mum rubbed her forehead, where Bessie had no doubt the beginnings of a headache lurked.

‘Here we are, little love.’ Her dad pushed the gifts closer to her, along with a small bundle of envelopes in the colours of sugared almonds.

‘Thank you!’