The Electrician

came unexpectedly. We were eating the raspberry trifle Lesley had brought. It might have been really awkward, him in his yellow overalls with their blue machine-embroidered logo that read JD Electrics in a font unknown to me. Ricky had just asked Lesley if she’d bought the raspberry trifle in the small Tesco and decanted it into her own bowl. He put down his toolbox, and us at ease with a few grisly anecdotes about wattage-inspired fatalities you could trust the authenticity of. I mean, of all people, he should know.