You and your pal Rab, you’re the same age. Ho, God, I knew it. Milly and Joe were wrong and I was right. So what is he older than you or what?

What?

Your pal Rab, is he older than you?

What d’you mean?

What’re you blushing for Tammas?

What?

Your face – it’s bloody scarlet so it is!

He made no reply. He was balancing the plate on his knees, holding the knife and the fork in either hand. Eventually he gazed at her. Well what would you’ve done if I told you the truth? Hh, you wouldnt’ve bloody looked at me.

Vi sighed, shaking her head. You really have got a cheek but I’m no kidding you. She stared at him: Are you only nineteen?

Naw, twenty.

Twenty. So you’re older than him are you?

About six months.

Is that the truth?

Christ sake Vi.

Well sometimes you dont know with you.

He sniffed and stared away, soon he dropped his gaze to the fireplace. There was a chip on the end of his fork; he ate it, glancing sideways. Kirsty still seemed to be engrossed in the picture book. And Vi had resumed eating. Listen, he muttered, you’re only two years older than me.

Am I?

Aye.

How do you know?

I just know.

Who told you?

Vi, there’s no point worrying about ages.