‘Nothing to worry about, Aunt Peg. We’ll be up in a minute,’ he replied, wheeling the barrow over to his comatose father who was in danger of being suffocated by Ron’s compost.

He heard her say something to the others in the kitchen, vaguely wondered where Ron had got to, and battled to get the majority of his father’s bulk into the wheelbarrow. Sweating, fed up, and now feeling utterly sober, he steered the unwieldy barrow back to the path and then came to an abrupt halt when he saw the reception committee on the doorstep.

Peggy and Pauline were grim-faced as they stood, arms tightly folded, poised for battle outside the back door. Cordelia and the four girls were equally unamused as they crowded behind them – carefully avoiding stepping on Ron, who seemed to have passed out on the basement floor beside a fretful Harvey.

‘I can explain,’ Brendon blustered.

‘I’m sure you can,’ snapped Pauline. ‘But we don’t want to hear your excuses. How dare you and your father disgrace me like this? You’ve missed your own farewell dinner that your Aunty Peg slaved over all day.’

Brendon slowly approached with the heavily laden wheelbarrow, his father’s long limbs dangling over the sides as he snored thunderously. Perhaps it was time to use a bit of Reilly charm? It usually worked.

‘Ach, it was just a few drinks on my last night, Mum. Da and Grandad only wanted to give me a good send-off.’

‘I’ll give you send-off,’ growled Peggy. ‘Look at the state of those two. Both stinking to high heaven and out for the count.’ She eyed Frank, who was covered from head to foot in compost, and then back to Ron, who was equally filthy. ‘You’re lucky I’m not built like Gloria Stevens,’ she fumed, ‘or I’d chuck all three of you out and make you sleep in the Anderson shelter.’

‘I’m truly sorry, Aunt Peg,’ he said, hanging his head. ‘None of us meant for any of it to happen, but Grandad’s ferrets got loose in the Crown and then Rosie chucked a bucket of swill over him for trying to serenade her.’

‘No wonder she chucked that lot over him. He can’t sing – and after what he’s done today, it was lucky she didn’t throw something much heavier than a bit of swill.’

Brendon heard the stifled giggles and looked up hopefully to find that the girls behind his mother and aunt were trying very hard to keep straight faces.

Peggy regarded Frank, making a sterling effort to stay cross. ‘It’s not the first time he’s ended up in the compost, and I doubt it’ll be the last. You’d better bring him in and dump them both on Ron’s bed.’

‘But they’re filthy,’ protested Brendon.