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‘Goddamn anti-Americans,’ Martin muttered as we queued. ‘Under-fed, under-employed and underfoot!’

He trotted out some variant of this at every occasion of suspected anti-Yank sentiment, and now I barely grunted at it, but Reid grinned broadly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘They come down here, they take our seats…’

Ten minutes later we were crowded around something that wasn’t so much a table as a painstakingly exact plastic replica of one. Eleanor sat between her grandparents and kept them entertained. Annette sat on one bolt-down seat and Reid and I half-leaned, half-sat over another.

‘Annette says you’re still lecturing,’ Reid said.

‘Yeah.’ I blew on a hot fry. ‘Part-time, short-term contracts. Further education’s run like a typing pool these days.’

‘You should approve.’ Dave was eating quickly, glancing away every, now and then.

‘I would if there was some sense to it all…Just as well Annette’s got a steady job.’

‘Solid breadwinner,’ Annette said, around a mouthful.

‘Safe from everything except the animal rights nutters?’

‘That’s about it. How’re you doing yourself?’

‘Working for North British Mutual,’ Reid said. ‘Big insurance company in Edinburgh. I’m supposed to be a software engineer. It’s just like being a programmer except you do it properly.’ He leaned closer in a parody of confidentiality, and winked at my father. ‘Money for old rope.’

‘Still with the Migs, I take it?’

Reid gave a twisted smile. ‘Everybody’s in the Labour Party these days, but you know how it is. Got into working in the union. Been on the branch committee for the past year.’

My father looked suddenly alert. He’d been on his branch committee for decades.

‘God, that must be thrilling,’ I said.

For a moment Reid’s face took on a look of utter weariness.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Better than Labour Party ward meetings anyway.’

‘I’ll tell you what your trouble is,’ my father said quietly. ‘You’re still doing it for the party, not for the union.’

Reid shook his head. ‘I’m for the union!’

Martin narrowed his eyes, held his gaze for a second, then returned to teasing Eleanor.

‘What’s your political activity these days?’ Reid asked, breaking an awkward silence. ‘Deep entry in the Tory Party?’

‘Very funny,’ I said. I had once spoken at a fringe meeting, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. ‘I do odd bits of work and write articles for what I consider good causes. Everything from Amnesty International to the Space Settlers’ Society, with the Libertarian Alliance somewhere in between.’ I shrugged. ‘I know – it sounds a bit…all over the place.’

‘Space and freedom, huh?’ Reid said lightly.

Across the street the demonstration was still going past. A banner with a picture of a rising rocket – a Polaris missile – caught my eye, and I think that was the moment when it all came together, when I had the vision. I saw a future where other people – infinitely different from these, infinitely like them – carried banners with other and greater rockets, chanted unfamiliar slogans I couldn’t quite make out.

‘That’s it!’ I said. ‘That’s what we need to get away from the nuclear terrorists. A space movement! Escape from the planet of the apes!’

‘That’ll be the day,’ Reid said. He examined a hunk of sesame-sprinkled roll, stuffed it in his mouth and chewed it. ‘OK folks, I gotta go.’ He smiled around the table, saw Eleanor’s covetous look at his badges and took one off and gave it to her. Jobs Not Bombs. ‘My phone-number’s still the same. See you soon, I hope.’ I caught a flicker of a look between him and Annette. His eyes, as he turned to me, were calm and friendly as ever. ‘Next time we’ll have a proper drink, right?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘“Not those rich imperialist tit-bits.”’

‘Yeah,’ he grinned. ‘Well, back to the Judean People’s Front.’

‘What!?? Don’t you mean the People’s Front of Judea?’

Reid smote his forehead. ‘Of course. See ya mate.’

He edged through the crush and vanished into the crowd.

We finished up our fast-food in a defiantly leisurely way. The queue, as apparently unending