I swallowed hard on the lump in my throat. Was I? I didn’t want to lie to Logan but the truth was that Dad and I weren’t close. We had been when I was little, but the minute I showed interest in Mum’s passion for bears rather than his passion for golf, he seemed to lose interest in me. You’d have thought he’d have been proud of his daughter for securing her first job aged fourteen but he’d always resented Mum for the success of Bear With Me so he just rolled his eyes when I told him I had a Saturday job as Assistant Bear Keeper.

Looking down at my brother, I chose my words carefully. ‘It’s always sad when someone dies, especially when it’s unexpected.’

‘Will the drunk man go to prison?’

‘I hope so, Logan.’

A creature of habit, Dad always took a flask of coffee and The Sunday Times to a bench on a quiet country lane just outside Cranton where he’d settled. He’d been killed instantly when, despite it being late-morning, a drunk driver misjudged a bend and ploughed straight into the bench… and Dad.

‘Billy Thomas says that the drunk man wasn’t allowed to drive a car. He says he was dequal… decoll…’ He wriggled free of my hug. ‘I can’t remember the word.’

I stood up. ‘It’s disqualified. Billy Thomas says lots of things, doesn’t he?’

‘His daddy drives an ambulance. He tried to fix our daddy, but he couldn’t.’

Oh crikey! I hadn’t known that.

‘He said Daddy didn’t stand a chance. What does that mean?’

What had Billy’s dad been thinking, having so much to say about the situation in Billy’s presence? ‘It means that it was a horrible accident and Daddy could have done nothing to stop it. He probably didn’t even see the car coming and he won’t have felt anything.’ I hoped. An image sprung to mind of Dad seeing the car veering towards him, helpless to move, then… I shuddered. I couldn’t bear to think about it.

The sound of Mum running down the stairs brought me out of the dark place my mind was heading towards. She appeared in the lounge doorway, looking calm, relaxed, and stunning. She didn’t look like someone who, minutes earlier, had been wrapped in a towel surrounded by piles of knickers and bras. Her layered shoulder-length dark hair with streaks of red and copper in it was flicked out at the sides and back in her trademark style. She wore a simple black shift dress with capped sleeves and a thin red belt. Pulling on a black fitted jacket, she smiled at us both. ‘Ready?’

‘You look amazing, Mum.’

‘I couldn’t resist a splash of colour.’ Mum pointed to her belt then winked and pointed lower. ‘Make that two splashes of colour.’