One morning he was in his usual place behind the reception desk when a thickset man in middle age, smartly dressed, came into the hotel and asked for a room. Gus handed over a set of keys and took up a pen.

‘Your name, sir?’

‘Lavender.’

Gus looked up sharply. How could this stranger know his name? ‘No, sorry, sir. I meant your name.’

‘That is my name. And I don’t want any cracks about how sweet or otherwise I smell. What’s the matter with you?’

Gus had dropped the pen and was leaning with both hands flat on the desk. ‘I’m sorry.’ The words forced themselves from a tightened throat. ‘Your name is Lavender?’

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

‘That’s my name, too.’

‘Yours?’

They stared at each other across the desk and Gus saw that although the stranger’s hair was thinning, his neatly trimmed beard and moustache were fiery red.

‘I’m Gus,’ he managed to say. ‘Augustus Lavender.’

‘Dear God!’ The man was now leaning his hands on the desk for support. ‘Where were you born?’

‘Liverpool.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Almost fifteen.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I think you may be my father.’

‘Great God in heaven! I think you’re right.’ Hands reached across the desk and gripped his arms. ‘Gus! By all that’s holy! I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘I knew you weren’t dead!’ Gus gasped. ‘I always said lost at sea didn’t have to mean drowned. But I thought you would be in America somewhere. How did you get here?’

‘I might ask you the same question,’ his father said.

‘Oh, I came on a ship. It’s a long story. But I’m staying here now.’

His father relaxed his grip. ‘Lost at sea, eh? So that’s what they told you. How’s your mother? Is she here with you?’

‘No, she died.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it. But you had a sister, too. What about her?’

‘May, she’s still at home in Liverpool.’

‘She must be a grown woman now.’

‘She’s seventeen.’

‘Seventeen! How the years go by!’

‘But why are you here?’ Gus was beginning to recover from the shock. ‘Why didn’t you come home?’

Mr Croft came into the foyer and, seeing them confronting each other across the desk, came over. ‘Is there a problem here? Can I help?’

Gus broke the intense eye contact and turned his gaze to his employer. ‘Sir, this is my father.’

‘Your father? I thought you told me you were an orphan.’

‘I thought I was.’

Mr Croft looked from one to the other. ‘Well, I can see the resemblance.’ He held out his hand. ‘I don’t know where you’ve sprung from, my friend, but you’re very welcome.’

‘Thank you. I guess I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’