‘Look, I know I fucked up, Ben,’ he says slowly. ‘I made a hash of everything, especially with you. But after your mother and I split up, I did try to see you. I tried. But she didn’t always make it easy.’

I keep my voice steady as I look him in the eye. ‘I don’t want to get into some big fight today. But if you blame my mum for anything, ever, then we won’t speak again. OK?’

He rubs the back of his neck and nods. ‘OK.’

I open the door and put one foot out onto the pavement.

‘Take care of yourself, Ben,’ he says.

‘You too. Good luck with the play.’

He smiles at me sadly. ‘I’ll see you.’

I get out and shut the door behind me. I know there’s a good chance that I will never see him again, and for the first time in my life, that doesn’t make me feel bad or frightened or like a total failure. In fact, I don’t really feel anything towards him at all.

I pull my coat collar up and walk into the whipping wind, listening to the big maroon Renault pull away behind me. It’s a freezing December day, but the sun is beginning to creep shyly out from behind the clouds.

Suddenly the desire to see Daphne, to be with the people I really love, grips me so tightly that I break into a run.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The rest of the day is … well, not good, obviously. But better.

I certainly get through the wake with a fair bit more poise and dignity and social interaction than I did last time. And by the time it’s all over, and the black suit is off, and I’m lying in bed next to Daphne, I really feel like I have resolved something – with both my parents. Even if neither of them will ever know about it.

I can feel Daff’s body start to relax as she drifts into sleep beside me. But my stomach is still churning like crazy. Not just because it’s 11.49 p.m. and I have no clue where I’ll find myself in ten minutes’ time, but also because of everything I’ve realised or remembered or learned over the past few days.

That night in the bar at uni when I felt this instant connection with a girl I’d just met; that moment in the maze where I snapped the branch on purpose so she’d find me. The discovery that she’d given up her Rising Star evening to come and pick me up when I was down; the blinding misery I felt waking up in Alice’s bed in Paris. Some of these memories have made me feel good; some have made me feel sick with shame and guilt. But all of them have served to reinforce one thing: it’s always been Daphne.

Always.