He and Carlene stacked the dishwasher then flopped into bed. Carlene, as usual after a couple of drinks, was giggly and amorous.
‘Finn wasn’t at all what I expected,’ she said as she unbuttoned his shirt.
‘Why?’
‘He didn’t seem at all depressed. Quite the opposite. And eat! I’ve never seen anyone eat as much as he does. And drink.’
‘Yeah,’ Reuben said gloomily. Between the two of them, Thommo and Wayne had finished off the Gentleman Jack. They’d forged an alliance based solely on that partiality and bolstered by a rousing rendition of football songs. It was at that point Reuben called a taxi for Thommo, poured him into it and helped Jo out to the car with her tired, overwrought children and barely standing husband.
‘He’s not usually so over-the-top. It was just the alcohol – he’s been
