‘And this is probably reading far too much into it,’ Mum adds, ‘but years later, I started to wonder if those presents were Ben’s way of telling me that we could get along fine without his father. Almost as if he was saying: “We’ve already got everything we need here. We just have to remind each other of that from time to time.”’ The pans begin clattering again. ‘Anyway. Gosh. Sorry, Daphne, listen to me: one glass of cava and I start boring you with all this old nonsense.’

‘No, it’s not nonsense at all,’ Daff says softly. ‘And I take it back now, by the way. My bells were a much, much worse present.’

They both start laughing again. And as I step away from the door, I realise I need another spell under the cold tap before I can go back in and join them.

Chapter Seventeen

The rest of the afternoon passes in a warm, pleasant, vaguely unreal blur.

Mum is delighted to learn that Daphne is not in the least bit vegetarian, and once we’ve all made a serious dent in the beef, and the bottle of cava, and then a bottle of red wine, we stumble woozily through to the living room and slump onto the sofas in front of the fire.

For the first time in a long time, I actually feel good about myself, even if it’s for something I did when I was in primary school, and which – let’s face it – essentially amounted to stealing some stationery and then giving it back again.

Daphne nuzzles into my shoulder on the sofa, and at this moment, everything between us feels so good – so right – that it’s hard to believe it will ever go wrong.

The watch-seller’s comment about questioning why I’ve come back to these particular moments keeps swirling around my brain. I missed that conversation between Mum and Daphne originally. Daff never even told me about it. Is that why the old man was so adamant that I went straight back home; so that I’d overhear them, and remember that I wasn’t always a screw-up of a son? Mum shoots me an affectionate glance from her armchair, and I decide that now is not the time to analyse it. I’d rather just bask in the way it made me feel.

Unfortunately, though, I don’t get long: within a few minutes of us sitting down, the doorbells rings.

Daff stirs and sits up. ‘That’ll be my dad.’

My stomach clenches tightly, because I suddenly can’t bear the thought of her leaving. I want to stay like this, just for a little longer. I want to pause everything and remain in this weird, perfect bubble, before the future happens and everything between us warps and fractures and turns rotten.

But of course, I can’t.