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stuck his head around the door to find his dad naked except for a frilly apron, holding out a wooden spoon full of something dark and evil looking.
    “Is it going to take all the skin off the inside of my throat like that last lot did?”
    “Oh, don’t be such a baby. And no, these are only habaneros in here, so you should be fine.”
    Only Alan Miller could refer to habaneros like they were baby food.
    Lewis stepped into the room. “What is it?”
    “Chocolate-and-lime truffle mix.”
    “With chillies in.”
    “Of course. Come on, taste it. I need to road test whether it’s going to work for Christmas presents for the history department.”
    “Christmas? Dad, I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, seeing as how you keep the heating on full blast all year round, but it’s June right now.”
    His dad just folded his arms smugly. “What can I say? Organisation is my middle name.”
    “I thought you were called Alan ‘Shameless-naked-chilli-fiend’ Miller.”
    “Nice one. Stick a professor on the front of that, and I think I’ll have it on a plaque on my office door. Now come on, give it a try.”
    Lewis screwed up his nose and touched his tongue to the gooey mixture. “Okay, it’s passed the first test. No third-degree burns just yet.”
    His dad looked at the ceiling as if to say, w hat did I do to deserve a son like you! so Lewis girded his loins and scraped a small mouthful off the spoon with his teeth. He’d learned the hard way not to get his dad’s concoctions on his lips if he could possibly help it. The velvety chocolate melted over his tongue.
    “Actually, that’s all raa-a-a-arrgh!” His mouth on fire and his eyes watering, Lewis ran to the sink and stuck his head under the tap. He fumbled with the mixer until cool water began flowing, washing the devil’s own truffle mix off his tongue.
    When he’d just about recovered the use of his tongue, Lewis turned round to find his dad waiting with a towel, a decidedly sheepish smile on his face. Lewis took it and dried his face.
    “So, still too hot, then?”
    “You could say that. Dad… I know it goes against everything you believe in, but how about you make some Christmas truffles without any chilli in them? Most people haven’t destroyed all their capsicum receptors like you have.”
    “Nonsense. Chilli and chocolate are the perfect combination. I just need to get the dosage right. I’ll halve it in the next batch.”
    “Or how about starting with just a tiny bit and working your way up?”
    “Now, now, Lewis my boy. Where’s the fun in that?”
    ”It’s fun to burn the roof of your mouth off?”
    On his way to the stairs, Lewis passed the lounge door and peered in. His mum was lying on the sofa, reading a book. Could have been like anyone else’s scene of domestic harmony, if it weren’t for the fact she was stark naked and reading a book called Hellenism and Homosexuality in Victorian Oxford.
    “Hey, Mum, I thought you were going out tonight,” he said when she finally noticed him standing there.
    “Oh, there you are, darling. Yes, we were meant to, but Shona McBride ended up muscling in on it, and I just couldn’t face spending any more time with her and her sense of self-righteous indignation.” Shona was an up-and-coming lecturer in Gender Studies and his mum’s main rival for head of department when the current incumbent retired at the end of the year. “She’s civilly partnered to a disabled Indonesian woman. How am I meant to keep hold of my liberal credentials with only one gay son in the family? I’m considering taking on a girlfriend to bolster my languishing bisexual identity. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind.”
    “I so hope you’re joking.”
    She winked at him. “I’d let him watch.”
    “Mum!”
    “Don’t you mum me. It makes me feel old. Anyway, if you don’t want me to do anything disgracefully bohemian, you’ll have to help me out. How about Brandon? Is he single yet?”
    “I don’t think