‘I have a compiled a list by means of house-to-house enquiries,’ he said, with obvious pride, ‘and I have patrolled the avenue, recording number plates, daily, for six weeks. I shall shortly be presenting my findings to Bristol City Council, in support of my repeated requests for the introduction of residents’ parking.’

‘Oh… OK. Well, that’s very… focused of you.’ I glanced around our small circle for any shared concern over Patrick’s obsessive tendencies. Unsurprisingly, there was none. June and Stan were gazing benignly at him, and Bill, for reasons which would soon become apparent, appeared to be far more interested in me.

‘So, Edith,’ he said, leaning in whilst pushing his aviator specs further up the bridge of his nose, ‘we have a gig coming up in two weeks’ time.’

I offered him a polite smile, my grip tightening on the wine bottle, as I determined to be nobody’s patsy tonight. ‘How very lovely. Is entry free of charge?’ I asked through clenched teeth. ‘Like it was last time.’

‘That’s right,’ he said smoothly, without any hint of conscience. ‘Unless you’d like to reserve a table for you and your young man, of course.’ He pointed towards Giles who was, at that moment, chatting with Andy and Nicky.

June let out a gasp and placed a hand on my arm. ‘You must excuse William, Edith. He doesn’t know.’

‘Doesn’t know what?’ he asked, turning to her.

‘Why, that Giles is no longer courting Edith.’

‘Oh.’ He shrugged, apparently unmoved by the fake news.

‘It’s fine, June, Giles and I were never…’ I hesitated for a moment, ‘courting. I’m very happy for him and Kerry.’

‘Brave, broken-hearted girl,’ she murmured. ‘Back on the shelf.’

‘Are you moving out?’ snapped Patrick. ‘Where are you going to live now?’

I looked at him steadily. ‘Not in my car.’

He nodded as if satisfied. ‘Sorry for your loss,’ he said.

‘Well, looking on the bright side,’ chimed Bill, ‘it’ll end all those concerns about him being your cousin. I know you think it was OK, but a doctor friend of mine wasn’t so sure.’ He raised his wine glass. ‘It’s for the best. And, here’s an idea, you can bring a different young man to the gig. Someone you’re not related to. I’ll set a table aside and maybe add a couple of chairs for your friends. That’ll cheer you up. I’ll pop the tickets round over the weekend.’

I took a deep breath and held up the wine bottle, resisting an urge to whack him with it. ‘Thank you, but no table this time: we’ll stand. Now, I’d best get on and fill some more glasses,’ I continued hastily, denying Bill a chance to continue the hard sell. ‘I’m not being a very good hostess, am I? Patrick, help yourself to another beer. They’re in the bottom drawer of the fridge.’