Adam walks her through to the living room, his arm looped loosely and carefully around her waist. He sits her down on the sofa and drapes a tartan blanket around her shoulders, as if she has been in an explosion and is recovering on the kerbside. He kneels down opposite her and she follows his gaze as it checks her hairline, eyes, cheeks, ears, neck, shoulders for signs of damage and distress.

‘I’m not hurt,’ she says. ‘I went to see Scott this morning.’

Adam knows what this means. He is very still, listening to her.

‘I couldn’t take it any longer,’ Becky says. ‘I had to know why he did it. But he didn’t do it. It wasn’t him.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘He’s gay. And I could tell as soon as I got into it. For him it was just some party. He thought … Oh God, he thought I was angry because he tried to go to second base with me.’

‘What would have happened if he’d admitted it?’

‘I’d have had an answer.’

‘He might have wanted a relationship with Maisie. Did you think about that?’

‘I wasn’t thinking about that.’

‘Well, we have to. Imagine finding out your father was … someone who did that. It’d completely and utterly destroy her, Becks. I know this means a lot to you but we have to weigh these things.’

‘I know.’

‘Does he know about Maisie now?’

‘He won’t say anything. I know he won’t say anything. He’s a nice guy.’

‘What’s going on? I mean, confronting Scott?’ He holds her face in his hands.

‘I know, I know, I just wanted to know …’

‘After sixteen years, does it really matter? Like, enough to jeopardize everything else you’ve got? Look at your life. I know there’s been some shit, but there’s also you and me and Maisie. You’re making a film. You’re loved.’

‘Maybe it was that boyfriend of Mary’s. Brendan? He was always a bit weird with me, even when Mary was around.’

‘He’s been dead four years. You’re not going to get answers from him now, are you? I know it’s hard. I know it’s not fair. But if it’s a toss-up between letting one bad moment destroy the rest of your life, against trying to let it go?’

‘It didn’t happen to you.’

He takes his hands from her face and rests them lightly on her hands.

‘I could track down the people who were playing Spin the Bottle in that room,’ she says.

‘How would you even do that? Did you know who they all were at the time? And if Maisie ever found out. If she ever heard even a vague rumour …’

‘I know, I know. I know I can’t.’

Her breaths overlap and she is beginning the sky-high tumble into a terrible panic.