‘Well, yeah. After that time you got investigated by Customs and Excise, I suppose you’d want to make sure all the paperwork’s in order.’
Nina and Julie exchanged awkward looks as Larry stabbed his fork into his last piece of beef. ‘That was just a random audit. They do hundreds of them every year.’ He put the meat in his mouth and chewed on it ferociously.
‘But they don’t normally come round to people’s houses and take all their files away, do they?’ It was Eddie’s turn to look smug.
Mouth full, Larry couldn’t reply, but from his scowl it was clear he was planning a retaliatory shot. ‘So, everyone finished?’ Julie said hurriedly. ‘Larry, love, can you help me put the plates in the dishwasher?’
Once they had gone, Nina put her head in her hands. ‘God, Eddie.’
‘What?’ he said, shrugging innocently. ‘Just being nostalgic.’
‘Can you be less aggressively nostalgic? Please?’
Dessert was served, baked peaches stuffed with mascarpone and almonds, both Eddie and Larry washing it down with more wine. Nina was grateful to Julie for steering the conversation away from anything that might spark another round of sniping between father and son. ‘It sounds like you have an amazing life,’ she said to the archaeologist. ‘One great big adventure!’
‘It’s not all adventure,’ Nina assured her. ‘I spend more time than I’d like in an office. But we’re doing some fieldwork at Glastonbury tomorrow, in King Arthur’s tomb.’
‘Wow. And archaeology’s how you met Eddie?’
‘Yes – he’d been hired as my bodyguard. He’s kept me safe from the bad guys since then.’ She smiled and put a hand on his arm.
‘That’s really romantic,’ said Julie, ignoring Larry’s faint but dismissive huff. ‘And exciting, too. Eddie, how many bad guys have you had to deal with?’
‘Oh, a fair few,’ said Eddie, for the first time that evening giving an answer without any snarky undertones. ‘But I used to be in the SAS, so I can handle myself.’ Julie was highly impressed by the revelation, deepening Larry’s irritation. ‘A punch in the face usually sorts ’em out.’
‘Well, that’s one thing you were always good at as a kid,’ said Larry loudly as he took another drink. ‘Hitting people, I mean. What was the name of that boy you used to bully? Peter something – Peter Clackett, that was it. I remember when his parents came round to complain about you beating him up.’
‘Larry . . . ’ Julie implored.
But he was on a roll. ‘Of course, it was the police who started coming round when you got older. Still,’ he continued, addressing Nina, ‘I’m glad he’s finally put his, ah, talent to constructive use.’
‘Well, personally, Larry,’ said Nina defensively, ‘I think Eddie’s a fantastic man, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.’ That wasn’t entirely true, but she hoped it would divert the discussion down a less argumentative path. Though in truth she was startled to hear that her husband had been a bully as a child – and that he had made no attempt to deny it.
‘Thanks, love,’ said Eddie, to her relief sounding cheery rather than angry. He ate a piece of peach, following it with more wine, then said, ‘Mind you, I might have turned out better as a kid if I’d had a good role model. Not someone who was hardly ever there ’cause he was off giving backhanders to crooked customs men and shagging other women behind his wife’s back.’
Larry banged down his spoon. ‘Oh, God,’ Nina moaned under her breath.
‘But after I left home,’ Eddie went on, ‘the army knocked some sense into me, so I turned out okay in the end. You know, serving my country, saving lives . . . ’
‘Marrying terrorists,’ said Larry, turning to Julie. ‘Did you know his first wife was Sophia Blackwood – the woman who tried to blow up New York?’ Julie was too embarrassed to reply.
‘Still, I managed not to cheat on her,’ Eddie snapped. A sarcastic sneer. ‘So, what contributions to humanity have you been making for the last twenty years? Bit of this, bit of that, makin’ deals . . . playing with your toy trains.’
‘Maybe I should have been around more,’ Larry growled. ‘I would have knocked some respect into you.’
‘Oh, you would, would you?’ said Eddie, challenging. ‘Big man, hitting his kid, eh?’
‘I certainly wouldn’t have let you run riot like your mother did.’
Eddie jumped up, jolting the table and knocking over his wine glass as he jabbed a finger at his father. ‘Don’t