‘It is an emergency,’ he said, when Kate objected. He tapped his sound system. Ariana Grande. ‘My step sisters,’ he said. ‘I downloaded it for them last time they were in London.’ He tapped again. Puccini, without words. Si, Mi Chiamano Mimi from La Bohème. ‘They don’t live in London? Your step sisters?’ Kate said. ‘No, Scotland. Dad’s involved in Trident, and my step mother’s from Edinburgh.’ ‘Your parents’ marriage ended?’ ‘Yeah. When I was nine. They were a bit doomed from the start, I reckon.’ ‘How so?’ ‘He’s the son of English Catholics from the south – east; she’s the daughter of a Turkish diplomat and an Indian journalist. My parents met by accident in a war zone, fell in love, then found they had nothing in common when I was born.’ ‘Sounds exotic. How old are your step sisters?’ ‘Twelve. They’re twins. I have a step brother, too. He’s eighteen. From a different woman, though, not my current step mother.’ ‘Your mother didn’t have other children?’ ‘Too busy raising me.
