You've learnt to recognise each of them by the way they touch you.
Arthur's hands are brilliant, childlike excitement exuding from every pore. Martin's long, slender fingers betray his perpetual anxiety, while Douglas' firm grasp is always reassuring. And if Carolyn sometimes squeezes you a bit too tightly, you surely can excuse her.
You relish the contact, relish being held for as long as it lasts. They may let you go for a while, but in the end they always come back to you.
You shiver in anticipation every time you hear the magic words.
The lemon is in play.