Dennis looked stricken.

‘You’re never not drunk.’ Joya’s chin wobbled. ‘But the worst was I was out in town with my friends and we saw your car. A lady was driving, you were in the passenger seat and you looked lit. My friends…they were laughing. It was so embarrassing. I said you were giving the lady a driving lesson, that was why you weren’t driving. They didn’t believe me, but they said nothing because they felt so bad for me.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I was ashamed of you, Dad. I wished I had a different dad. I’m sorry, Dad,’ she squeaked, and began to sob.

I asked her if she’d like to leave and she shook her head, so I turned to Juliet.

‘You’ve been married twenty-two years? When did you realize he was an alcoholic?’

‘He was always a drinker,’ she admitted. ‘But in the early days he was great fun. In later years, even when he’d get very drunk and make a show of us all, he could talk his way out of it—he could sell sawdust to lumber mills. But maybe about five years ago, it changed.’

‘How?’

‘He’d always been Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. The outside world got the chat and the jokes, but at home he had a terrible temper on him.’

‘I never laid a finger on you!’ Dennis declared.

‘You didn’t have to,’ Juliet said.

‘Dennis has told us…’ I referred to my notes. ‘ “My wife is never satisfied. She’s always asking for things.” ’

‘I have a job,’ Juliet said. ‘I earn my own money. I never ask him for anything. Not any more.’

‘But’, Dennis blustered, ‘you’re always whinging about wanting things done in the house.’

‘Like what?’ Juliet asked. ‘Like? What?’

‘Well, why wouldn’t you do Mrs Fallon’s laundry? You told me to do it.’

‘In the end, who did do Mrs Fallon’s laundry?’ Juliet’s eyes were narrowed and Dennis squirmed. Addressing me, Juliet said, ‘He’s a terrible husband and a terrible father—there are no boundaries or discipline, except for when he loses his temper. And he doesn’t come home at least three nights out of every seven.’

‘What is your wish for Dennis?’ I asked.

‘I don’t want him drinking himself to death on my watch.’

‘That won’t happen!’

‘Tell your daughters,’ Juliet said. ‘They’re the ones who love you. I don’t care any more. I’m ready to divorce you.’

‘Wait now!’ Dennis was the colour of parchment.

‘You don’t want Juliet to divorce you?’ I asked him.

‘I do not! She’s my wife!’

‘You love her?’

‘With my life!’

To Juliet, I said, ‘Do you know where he is on those nights he doesn’t come home?’

Juliet nodded.

‘I’m on Patch’s couch,’ Dennis said loudly.

‘Where does he stay?’ I prompted Juliet.