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Granny lived here, but now her bookcases are filled with design books and autobiographies rather than spy novels and old issues of
Reader’s Digest
.
    â€˜Who plays?’ asks Ben, gesturing at the piano.
    â€˜Rebecca,’ says Stefan.
    Ben’s eyes widen as he looks at me. ‘Why don’t I know this?’
    â€˜Can’t you tell she’s got penis fingers?’ says Stefan.
    â€˜Pianist fingers!’ I yell.
    â€˜That’s what I said.’
    â€˜Anyway,’ I say to Ben, hitting Stefan with a cushion, ‘I don’t play. I took a few lessons when I was young, when we were back staying with Granny. I gave up, though.’
    â€˜Too impatient,’ clarifies Stefan.
    â€˜Not true,’ I lie.
    Dad leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. ‘She thought she’d come away from her first lesson being able to give a full rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.’
    â€˜Well, who wants to spend an hour doing scales?’ I complain.
    â€˜See?’ says Stefan.
    â€˜A few weeks ago she asked me to show her how to do a perfect boiled egg,’ Ben says, leaning conspiratorially towards the others. ‘Then she tried it herself once, and it was only half cooked when she opened it, so she bashed it to death with her spoon and poured herself a bowl of cereal. She hasn’t tried it again since.’
    Dad and Stefan burst out laughing and I glare at Ben with faux hurt, though I’m happy to see the three of them being so pally.
    Ben’s eyes lock with mine, and even after eleven months, the intimacy of his look still has the same effect it did on that night at Arch 13. It’s an effort to tear my eyes away.
    I don’t know why I was worried earlier. Everyone loves Ben and everyone loves my dad. The two of them not getting on would be like Phillip Schofield and Dame Judi Dench meeting and deciding they’re not really each other’s cup of tea.
    â€˜Can you still play anything?’ asks Ben.
    I shake my head as Stefan grabs my hand and drags me up. ‘Let’s do a duet,’ he says.
    â€˜We don’t know any—’
    â€˜Yes, we do. We nailed it – don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.’
    Reluctantly I sit next to Stefan on the stool.
    â€˜It’s that crap one everyone knows,’ I announce over my shoulder to Ben. ‘It was in the film
Big
.’
    I start the lower notes and wait for Stefan to come in with the melody.
    He gets it right for about five seconds before he starts hitting the wrong keys. He doesn’t stop, though; he just carries on as if he’s doing it right.
    â€˜Stop going off-piste,’ I yell at him.
    â€˜I’m here and I’m perfectly sober,’ he says.
    â€˜Knob.’
    â€˜Sshhh, and concentrate, before you ruin our recital.’
    â€˜The piano originally belonged to Alice, my wife,’ Dad tells Ben as they both chuckle.
    â€˜Oh, Dad, I forgot to tell you.’ I stop playing and spin around, before the conversation goes down that road. ‘Danielle is moving out.’
    I fill him in on the details.
    â€˜So what’s next for you?’ he asks.
    My eyes find Ben and I see him look down into his mug. It’s painful to admit – and I won’t out loud – but I was so sure Ben would instantly suggest moving in when I told him about Danielle. That’s what he does, he jumps right in. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t ask.
    Worried he’ll think I’m trying to coerce him now, I inject some enthusiasm into my answer.
    â€˜It’d be weird living there with anyone else. I guess I’ll just rent by myself until I can afford to buy somewhere. It’ll be nice to have my own space.’ There you go, Ben – off the hook. ‘It might have to be a studio flat, or somewhere further afield where the rent isn’t so high. Charlton, maybe.’
    â€˜You know,’ says Dad, ‘if you feel