CHAPTER FIVE

Kieron’s mother was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine when Kieron got back home. Her coat had been thrown casually over a chair and her shoes lay untidily on the floor, upside down and pointing in different directions.

She pulled her attention from the news broadcast she was watching and gazed quizzically at him as he walked in. He could tell from her slightly unfocused gaze that she’d already had a large glass of wine. Possibly even two. It was pretty much par for the course on those evenings when she wasn’t working late. He couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her. She worked so hard to pay the mortgage on the flat, and buy the food that she and Kieron ate and as well as his clothes, his mobile phone, his computer and everything else. Since his father had left, she’d had to take up all the slack on running the house, and that meant he hardly ever got to see her. It didn’t make him angry – not at his mum, anyway. Maybe at his dad, just a bit. It mostly made him sad. It also made him determined to get a job (as soon as he could find one that didn’t involve menial work in a shop) and contribute to the family finances, and help his mother to relax a bit. Maybe, he thought, Sam was right – maybe they could actually get someone interested enough in this non-lethal brainwave device to buy the idea off them.

‘Kieron,’ she said, ‘what’s happened to your lip?’

For a moment he didn’t know what she was talking about. He raised his hand to see if there was some blood there, or a trace of food or something. His fingers brushed across the piercings in his lower lip, and a sudden jolt of guilt ran through him. He hadn’t told her! He hadn’t even asked her! It had all seemed so grown-up a few hours ago, but suddenly he was a kid again, trying to explain how the vase had got knocked over or the crayon pictures had appeared on the wall.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Yes. I got some piercings.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I probably should have asked you first.’

‘You definitely should have asked me first.’

He felt his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. ‘Sorry – I just really wanted them.’

The long silence that followed made him even more uncomfortable. His mother just stared at the piercings with a slight frown on her face.

‘Did it hurt?’ she asked eventually.

‘A little bit,’ he admitted.

‘How did you afford them?’

‘I saved up.’

‘And did you lie about your age?’

He winced. ‘Yes.’

Another long silence, then: ‘They suit you.’

‘Really?’ He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

‘They do. I mean, I wouldn’t dress the way that you do, but if I did I’d probably get piercings just like that too.’

‘They’re called snakebites.’

‘I’m sure.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘Please tell me you haven’t had any tattoos done.’

‘No tattoos. I promise.’

‘If you ever decide you want a tattoo, talk to me first. I’ll tell you some personal horror stories.’

‘You’ve got tattoos?’ he asked, aghast.

She nodded. ‘Had them since I was sixteen.’

Kieron couldn’t believe this. ‘Where?’

She raised an eyebrow, and he looked away.

‘Never mind,’ he said. Then, as things seemed to be going well, he decided to go for broke. ‘Mum – can I go to America?’

‘Sorry?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought for a moment there you asked if you could go to America.’ She glanced at the glass in her hand. ‘This stuff must be stronger than I thought.’

‘No, I’m serious. Am I allowed to go to America?’

She sighed. ‘Oh, Kieron, we’ve had this conversation. All the money I earn goes to keeping this flat, and on food and the essentials. I wish I earned enough to take us on holidays abroad, but I don’t. Look, I’ll see if there are any other jobs going around Newcastle that I could do – jobs that pay more money. That, or I’ll walk into my boss’s office and ask her for a raise. You never know – it might work. But don’t pin your hopes on it, kid.’

‘No, I didn’t mean us going on holiday.’ He flapped his hands, trying to make it look as if he was surprised and pleased about something. ‘There was this competition. There were flyers in the local record shop, and a website. You had to come up with a title for the new Lethal Insomnia album. The title the band liked best would win, and the person who came up with it would get a free, all-expenses paid trip to America to see them actually record the album.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘And I won.’

His mother’s eyes went wide and it looked for a moment as if she might spill her wine. She took a sudden gulp.

‘You’re serious? Of course you’re serious! You actually won a competition.’

He smiled. ‘Yeah, I did.’

‘I’m so proud of you! I don’t think I’ve ever won a competition in my life! I always thought we were an unlucky family, because nothing good ever happens to us. And a trip to America! I mean, a free copy of the album, yes, or a mention in the credits, or maybe even a VIP ticket for the next concert they do in England, but actually flying you out to America?’ She fluttered her free hand in front of her face. ‘I’m feeling faint.’

‘Take a breath,’ Kieron advised.

‘This is going to be the most amazing experience of your life,’ his mother said. ‘You’ll need new clothes, a new toothbrush and luggage! I think your dad took the big suitcases when he left – which is probably a good thing, otherwise I’d have killed him, chopped him into pieces and taken the pieces to the rubbish tip in them.’ She reached out to touch Kieron’s arm. ‘Don’t worry – I’m kidding. I wouldn’t have wasted a good set of luggage on disposing of his body.’ Her face, which had shed about five years as surprise and joy replaced her usual harried frown, collapsed into the lines that Kieron was all too familiar with. ‘Oh, hang on. This isn’t real, is it? It can’t be!’

Kieron felt a wave of panic run through his body. What had they missed? What had given them away?

‘I’ve heard about things like this,’ she went on, her voice suddenly controlled and quiet. ‘They call it “phishing”, don’t they? They explained it in the newspapers. People set up fake websites that lure in unsuspecting teenagers. Then when the kids are hooked they’re told to go somewhere for what they think is an innocent meet-up, but they’re kidnapped and horrible things happen to them. Look, Kieron, I’m really sorry to tell you this, but I think this is a set-up. You’ve been conned.’

The wave of panic receded, but only far enough that he could still sense it lurking in the background. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to start an argument. That would only backfire badly. ‘The competition is on the record company’s website as well as the band’s website – and they’re a well-known record label, not some kind of fly-by-night operation. Look – I’ll show you. Give me your tablet.’

His mother reached under a cushion on the sofa and pulled her tablet computer out. She handed it across to him with some reluctance, saying, ‘These websites can be faked, you know? “Spoofed”. They warn us about this kind of thing at work. We go on courses about it. One of the finance assistants fell for something like this a few months back. She was sent an invoice via email for ten thousand pounds. She checked out the company on the Internet, and they seemed legitimate, so she paid the invoice, but it was a trick. Someone else had done the work; she’d paid the wrong company. When the police tried to track them down, they’d closed the website and done a runner.’ She reached out and touched his arm again. ‘I’d hate for something like that to happen to you.’

‘I haven’t got ten thousand pounds,’ he pointed out as he launched the browser and typed in the address of the fake website that Bex had mocked up. His mother was right – it was all too easy to do.

‘You know what I mean. Bad things.’

Kieron handed the tablet back. ‘Here – take a look.’

His mother frowned. ‘Hang on – I thought I’d password-protected this thing.’

‘You did. You always use my birthday as your password.’

She sighed. ‘You are far too clever. I really don’t know where you get it from. Certainly not your father.’ She glanced over the website. ‘It looks authentic, I suppose, but what do I know? These people are very clever. Kieron, I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced.’

Time to bring in the big guns. ‘The email I got telling me I’d won said that they’d write to us confirming the details. Maybe the letter arrived this morning.’

‘Do you want to go and check?’ she asked, looking uncertain.

Kieron raced to the front door and picked up the letter that he had placed on the doormat when he’d arrived, ten minutes earlier. Bradley and Bex had written it an hour or so ago, and then printed it out and put it in an envelope. It had joined several other letters that his mother had left lying there. He knew all too well that she tended to let the mail build up, unopened, until it was a trip-hazard, and only then would she go through opening the envelopes and complaining in a low voice.

‘Here. “Parent or Guardian of Kieron Mellor” – that’s you, isn’t it? You open it.’

His mother weighed the envelope in her hand. ‘Good-quality paper,’ she said. She slid a fingernail beneath the flap and opened it. Several sheets of paper were inside. She took them out and started to read.

‘Very polite,’ she murmured as she scanned the pages. ‘It’s not a form letter. Good grammar and spelling too. Those fake emails that come in telling you that someone wants to send you ten thousand dollars if you only provide them with your bank details and a ten-dollar handling fee are always really badly written. I often wonder if they do it deliberately, to filter out people who are too suspicious and leave behind the idiots who are likely to fall for the con. So – yes, it’s from the record company, and it says you’ve won their competition to name the next album for the band Lethal Insomnia – first prize, an all-expenses paid trip to Albuquerque to meet the band and watch them recording the album.’ She glanced up at him. ‘What was your title? I hope it wasn’t something horrible. I know the kind of music you listen to.’

Kieron’s mind suddenly went blank. All of the preparation and planning, all of the effort in creating the website and the letter and making sure the story hung together and made sense, and they hadn’t done the simplest thing – they hadn’t actually come up with his winning entry! He had to think of something, quickly, or his mother would suspect it was all a ruse. He couldn’t claim that he’d forgotten – how could he forget something that important? But what would Lethal Insomnia call their new album? What kind of title would make sense?

He quickly ransacked his brain for ideas, but everything he came up with was boring, stupid or obvious.

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘you can tell me. Don’t be embarrassed. After all, everyone’s going to know about it soon.’

‘Saccades,’ he said suddenly. He had no idea where the word had come from. It had just popped into his mind.

‘Saccades?’ she repeated. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s the medical term for the small, involuntary movements that the eye makes,’ he explained, remembering a split second before speaking. ‘When you’re looking at something, like someone’s eyes when you’re talking to them, your gaze actually moves around randomly over a small area, taking in all kinds of other details that you don’t even realise. I thought it was a good, interesting word, and there aren’t any other albums with that name. That’s the kind of thing you have to watch for if you’re in a band: calling an album something like Live in Newcastle when there’s already sixteen different Live in Newcastle albums out there.’

‘Wow,’ she said, looking impressed. ‘You know so much more than I do. How do you cram all that knowledge into your head?’

‘Sometimes I wish I couldn’t,’ he admitted, relieved.

His mother turned back to the letter. It was strange watching her face – she didn’t move her lips, like Sam did when he read something, but her eyebrows moved up and down slightly, and her eyes opened wider and then narrowed as her brain processed and reacted to the words on the paper.

‘Actually,’ she said cautiously, ‘this does look OK. The woman who wrote this – Chloe Gibbons, her name is; she apparently works in the publicity department at the record company – says that I can phone her any time. She says she appreciates how much of a surprise this is, and how it would raise suspicions in any sensible parent’s mind, and she says that she’d be happy to come up to Newcastle, meet us for lunch and talk it through.’ She nodded. ‘I have to say, I like her already.’

‘Chloe Gibbons’ was of course Bex, and she was only just up the road, but she and Kieron had agreed that his mother needed the reassurance of meeting someone that was part of this apparent competition.

‘So what do you think?’ Kieron asked nervously.

‘I think I’m going to give this Chloe Gibbons a ring,’ his mother said, getting up off the sofa clumsily while still holding her glass of wine in one hand and the letter in the other, ‘and see if she works weekends.’

‘She works for a rock band,’ Kieron pointed out. ‘She probably works all kinds of hours.’

Kieron watched as his mother headed towards the kitchen. Part of him wanted to follow, just so he could hear at least one side of the conversation with Bex, but another part of him knew that it was best to let his mother have the lead on this. What was the phrase they used on TV sometimes, in pretentious documentaries? She needed to ‘take ownership’ of it.

He sat there nervously, hearing voices from the kitchen. He couldn’t tell if his mother was angry, grateful, suspicious or amused. He thought about turning the TV up to distract himself, or finding some game on his mother’s tablet to play, but he knew he wouldn’t be paying attention to whatever was happening. He was too on edge.

Eventually he heard his mother saying goodbye. It was a few moments before she came back into the living room, and when she did her expression was serious. She sat on the arm of the sofa and stared at him for a few seconds. He forced himself to say nothing.

‘Right – there’s good news, bad news, and then more good news,’ she said. ‘The first lot of good news is this all seems above board, and this Chloe Gibbons is happy to travel up tomorrow and meet us for lunch somewhere near the station and explain more.’

‘And the bad news?’ Kieron asked.

‘The bad news is that the only dates that the record company can offer are right in the middle of a new project I’ve got starting at work. It’s a really unfortunate coincidence. Kieron – I won’t be able to go. I’m sorry.’

‘Does that mean I won’t be going?’

She shook her head. ‘Not necessarily – Chloe has said that she’ll be going along anyway to make sure everything goes OK with the trip, and she’s more than happy to look after you – if, of course, I agree when we meet tomorrow. Obviously I’m not going to leave you in the hands of someone I don’t like or trust. I’m really sorry I won’t be able to go – are you all right about flying out to America with just this Chloe woman?’

Kieron was more than happy to fly anywhere with Bex, but he put on a serious face and said, ‘I think I’ll be OK once I’ve met her. After all, I’ve got to grow up some time.’

‘You already have,’ his mother said sadly, ‘and so fast.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s order a takeaway to celebrate.’

‘Hang on,’ Kieron said, remembering, ‘you said there was more news. What is it?’

‘Oh – yes.’ His mother grinned triumphantly. Kieron got nervous whenever he saw that smile. It was the expression she had whenever she thought she’d done something wonderful for him, like buy him a book that he knew he would never read or an album by a band he hated. ‘I asked this Chloe person if, given that I wasn’t able to come, perhaps you could take someone else as a guest. She sounded a bit surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to her, but she said yes, she supposed so, depending on who it was. I suggested your friend – Sam. I hope that’s all right – I’d feel a lot better if you had a friend with you. It’ll stop you from getting lonely. And of course it’ll be really good for Sam. I know his family didn’t have a holiday this year either.’ Her face fell. ‘Oh, I hope they don’t think this is like charity or something. I’ll stress that it’s a free trip and you won it in a competition.’

‘And this – Chloe – she was OK with Sam coming along?’

‘She seemed fine with it. I’ll go and give Sam’s mum a ring. You wait here. Oh, and I’ll order that takeaway. Indian OK with you?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ he said as she walked back into the kitchen. For some reason she always made phone calls out of his earshot. It had started when she and his father were splitting up, and afterwards when various companies kept calling to chase up unpaid bills, and it had just become a habit. Kieron was surprised to realise that he wasn’t sure how he felt about Sam coming along. On the one hand Sam was his friend, but on the other hand he felt as if this was his adventure.

A sudden flush of shame made his cheeks burn. He wasn’t being fair. Sam had been hurt by the fascist Blood and Soil organisation, and he’d risked his life helping Kieron and Bex. He deserved to come along. It was a shame they wouldn’t be seeing Lethal Insomnia, but it would be good to have someone else his age to compare notes with, and play games with on the flight. He got the impression that Bex would be all business once they set out.

His mother’s conversation with Sam’s mother went well, from what she said when she came back. The takeaway arrived half an hour later, and they both shared chicken korma, lamb pasanda and saag paneer with keema naan and rice. They ended up talking about old times – Kieron’s earliest memories – the time he broke his arm by running full tilt into a padded pole at a kids’ indoor play place with his arm outstretched, the time he’d seen his first bumble bee and excitedly called out, ‘Look, Mummy – there’s a fly with its dressing gown on!’ And there were some tears when his father came into the conversation. It was one of those magical evenings which happened by accident, but which brought him and his mother closer together – at least for a while.

Later, as Kieron chased the last of the korma sauce around the plate with a scrap of naan bread, he found himself looking at his mother as she checked her tablet for emails. She had lines at the corners of her eyes and corners of her mouth that he hadn’t noticed before. A few strands of grey hair were visible as well, swept back over her ears. He was growing up, but she was getting old – bit by bit. Kieron had a sudden vision of their future – her, old and increasingly infirm, and him visiting her and doing those odd jobs around the flat that she couldn’t do any more: getting her shopping and collecting her prescriptions. It wasn’t a future he wanted. The prospect made him shiver. Where would he be then? Living in his own flat, somewhere in Newcastle? Maybe sharing a place with Sam?

He had to admit it – the future frightened him. There didn’t seem to be an upside to growing up: it just meant you had more things to worry about and less energy and free time. He didn’t want to get old. He just wanted to stay exactly the age he was forever.

His mother noticed his introspection. ‘Cheer up,’ she said in a voice slurred by the wine, ruffling his hair. ‘It might never happen.’

‘Oh, it’s going to happen,’ he said bleakly. ‘I can’t stop it from happening.’

Soon after that he realised she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He cleared the plates away, covered her with a duvet and went to bed.

Sleep didn’t come, and eventually he texted Sam to see if he was awake too. Understand you’re coming to America, he typed. Wasn’t expecting that one.

Neither was Bex, came the instant reply.

I think my mum caught her by surprise, Kieron texted back.

Do you mind? It seemed like an innocent question, but Kieron could feel Sam worrying, even through the blandness of the text messages.

No stealing vans and driving them around without a licence, Kieron texted back, deliberately reminding Sam of what had happened when Sam had got involved in Kieron’s recent adventures.

No chance, Sam texted back, then, If Lethal Insomnia are actually in Albuquerque while we’re there, what are the chances we might run into them?

Slim to none. Remember – we’ve got work to do.

You have, Sam pointed out. I’m sightseeing. Tourist stuff. Bex has made it clear that I’m not to get involved.

Are you going to be at this lunch tomorrow? Kieron asked. He waited for a response, but nothing came through. After ten minutes he assumed that Sam had fallen asleep in mid-conversation, as he often did. Ten minutes after that, he was asleep as well.

He slept late the next day, and eventually his mum woke him up by opening the door and shouting ‘Get dressed – we’ve got to meet Chloe.’ He quickly pulled on the same black jeans, black T-shirt and battered black boots he’d been wearing the day before. When he came out of his room his mother pushed him towards the bathroom, then pulled him back and said, ‘Are you wearing fresh clothes?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘All your clothes look the same, so it’s difficult to tell.’ She sniffed. ‘And I can’t tell over the smell of the deodorant you’ve sprayed on. All right, I’ll believe you. Go and brush your teeth.’

They drove from the flat into the centre of town and parked in a central car park. Bex – or Chloe, as Kieron had to keep reminding himself – had booked a table at a decent mid-range Italian restaurant.

The greeter who welcomed them and took them to their table recognised Kieron’s mother. He smiled at her and nodded, and she smiled back at him. Kieron wondered how often she ate there. Then he wondered who she ate with. Then he shuddered, and stopped wondering. She was his mother. She didn’t have dates.

Sam and his mother were already there. Sam’s mum was almost the exact opposite of Kieron’s: blonde rather than brunette, large rather than slim, and dressed casually – tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt with a thin waterproof jacket over the top rather than tight jeans and silky blouse. The two women hugged briefly while Kieron and Sam exchanged embarrassed glances.

‘Does it get any worse than this?’ Kieron murmured.

Sam shrugged. ‘Depends. Are a bunch of kids from school going to come in and start laughing at us for being here with our mums?’

‘Ah,’ Kieron said, ‘I’ve worked out a plan in case that happens. We just find out who the alpha-male or alpha-female is in the group, then quietly tell one of the waiters that it’s their birthday. I guarantee, fifteen minutes later the lights will go down, a small iced cake will be bought out with a sparkler stuck into it, and they’ll start playing some cheesy birthday song on the music system. It always happens. Then who’s going to be embarrassed?’

Sam stared at him sympathetically. ‘Been here before for your birthday then?’

Kieron shuddered theatrically. ‘Too many times.’

They both looked up as someone arrived at the table, assuming it was the waiter again, taking drinks orders, but it was Bex. She looked … efficient, Kieron thought. Just like a publicity assistant should look. He wondered whether she’d brought the trouser suit with her from Mumbai or she’d gone out and bought it five minutes ago. She held a folder by her side.

She didn’t even glance at Kieron or Sam. Instead she looked from Kieron’s mum to Sam’s mum and back again. ‘Mrs Mellor?’

Kieron’s mum half stood and shook hands. ‘That’s me – but, please, call me Veronica,’ she said, ‘and this is Holly. She and I were pregnant with these two at the same time. We were in adjoining beds in hospital.’

Bex shook hands with Sam’s mum. ‘I’m Chloe,’ she said; ‘Chloe Gibbons.’ She turned to look at Kieron, then Sam. ‘And which one of you is Kieron?’

Feeling strangely like he was in some kind of stage play where everyone knew their lines but him, Kieron held a hand up. ‘It’s me.’

‘Congratulations, Kieron.’ Bex sat down, a professional smile and not a flicker of recognition on her face. ‘You and your friend – Sam, is it? – you’re going to enjoy this trip so much. It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime!’

Kieron suddenly realised with a slight shock that Bex – in her guise as Chloe – was wearing the ARCC glasses. They were thin and almost invisible. He wondered if Bradley was on the other end, feeding her information, but kicked himself. Bradley wasn’t physically capable of operating the kit – that was the whole reason for this elaborate charade. Perhaps she just felt more comfortable – more like she was undercover – when she was wearing them.

‘Thanks for coming all this way just to talk to us,’ Kieron’s mother said. ‘It’s a lot of trouble for you to go to. Where are you based? London?’

‘Manchester,’ Bex said. ‘That’s where the record company has its UK headquarters And I’m more than happy to be here to reassure you that this is all above board and these two will be perfectly safe in our hands.’

Kieron tried to move his head sideways to see whether she had an earpiece in her ear, but his mother punched him on the shoulder. ‘Stop squirming.’ She smiled at Bex. ‘Teenagers – they just can’t sit still. I don’t envy you – having to look after these two on a long flight. How long is it actually?’

‘Seven hours to Washington DC,’ Bex replied, ‘then another four hours on from there to Albuquerque.’

‘And this is free, isn’t it?’ Sam’s mother asked. ‘I mean, we don’t have to pay anything?’ She sounded as if the concept was so incredible that she just couldn’t believe it.

Bex shook her head. ‘That’s right – the record company takes care of everything: flights, food, accommodation. It’s all part of the prize.’

‘And the band – what are they called? Lethal Insomnia? – they’re actually going to use the album title that Kieron suggested?’ his mum asked.

The words Don’t ask her what it is! started running through Kieron’s mind. He’d not warned Bex in advance about the answer he’d had to make up on the spot the night before.

‘It’s a great title,’ Bex said smoothly. ‘And the band love it. It’ll definitely be the title of the next album.’

Kieron wondered to himself how Bex was going to manage that. Perhaps she’d get him to use the ARCC kit to hack the record-company servers and change the name of the album just before it came out without anyone realising. And all the publicity material and advertising. More likely either his mum would forget, or he’d have to explain to her that someone at the record company had had a change of heart.

‘Let me take you through the details,’ Bex said, opening her folder and pulling out a sheaf of notes. For the next twenty minutes – punctuated only by the waiter arriving and taking their order and then bringing their food – she went through what Kieron realised must have been something she and Bradley had created overnight, but which seemed totally professional and realistic – flights, hotels, dates, times … everything. The main thing he remembered was that the weather in Albuquerque was going to be hot – very hot – but dry – very dry. Oh, and they’d be staying in a hotel. An actual hotel.

‘Do you know the first thing I’m going to do when we get there?’ Sam asked, leaning across to him.

‘What?’

‘Head down to the local mall.’

Kieron stared at him. ‘What’s the point? We spend half our lives at the mall here.’

‘Yeah, but this is an American mall!’

Hearing their names, they both turned around to hear Bex saying, ‘What about passports? Do they both have them?’

They’d discussed this the day before – Bex had been confident that they could get hold of a fake passport for Kieron if necessary, but he’d told her that he still had one from a school trip a few years before. Sam had been on the same trip.

Both of their mothers said, ‘Yes,’ at the same time.

‘What about visas?’ Kieron’s mother asked.

‘It’s all done electronically,’ Bex said smoothly. ‘If you can give me their passport numbers, dates of birth and places of birth, I’ll get that organised.’

By that time they’d finished their main courses and were drifting into dessert territory. In her guise as Chloe Gibbons, Bex engaged Kieron and Sam in conversation, asking them about their likes and dislikes, their lives, and what exactly they liked about the music of Lethal Insomnia. Kieron couldn’t fault her professionalism. She’d obviously been researching the band; she knew their names, which instruments they played and everything.

‘I have to ask,’ Sam’s mother asked as she finished the last spoonful of her lemon torte, ‘do you actually like this music? I mean, we’re older than you, but you’re older than them.’ She indicated Kieron and Sam with her thumb. ‘Which side of the fence do you fall?’

‘I have to say,’ Bex answered smoothly, ‘that I love the music. I have to say that because I’m the publicist, and that’s what I get paid to say.’ She leaned theatrically across the table. ‘But to be honest, I prefer something a bit smoother; less spiky. More of a tune. And where you can actually hear the words.’

The lunch broke up shortly after that, with Bex saying that a car would pick the boys up at six o’clock in the morning, two days later. She left – supposedly to catch her train – and while the two mothers were saying their goodbyes, Sam looked at Kieron and muttered, ‘Well, I have to say, undercover work is a lot more boring than I’d expected.’

‘Yes, but the food is good,’ Kieron pointed out.