‘All good,’ called Dad. ‘Just me.’

I pulled the chair from underneath the doorhandle and opened the door a crack. Why should I trust his word? Maybe Mum was there, behind Dad, ready to barge her way in. But she wasn’t. Just Dad, with a stupid grin and a loaded tray. He came in, and placed the tray on my bedside table while I put the chair back under the handle. Then he sat down on the bed and patted a space to his side.

‘You’re not sitting on my bed,’ I said. ‘I’m sitting there.’ Dad looked around my room but there was only one chair and it was acting as a lock. I pointed to the floor.

‘You stand,’ I continued, ‘or you sit there. Your choice.’

He stood, swaying slightly as he put weight first on one foot and then the other. I picked up the glass of water. Food didn’t interest me, but I was thirsty and I needed to be hydrated. Whatever was going to happen, I had to be thinking clearly. I drained the glass, refilled it from the jug.

‘We couldn’t take the chance of losing you, Ashleigh,’ said Dad. ‘And we would have if it hadn’t been for your mother and what she … did. You would’ve died on that camp. You know that.’

I stroked Z’s fur and he lay on his side, tongue lolling in apparent pleasure.

‘It was Aiden who saved my life,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Dad. He at least had the grace to keep his head lowered. ‘But your mother …’

‘I want to talk to her,’ I said. ‘Not now. This afternoon. At two o’clock I will come to the living room and I will be asking questions. Tell her I want honest answers. This evening I will go to see Aiden. Tell her to arrange that or whatever she needs to do to make it happen. Can you do that for me, Dad?’

He nodded.

‘I’m so sorry, Ashleigh.’ He took a step towards me, but then reconsidered and backed away. ‘I wish you could see how sorry, how … distraught I am. I loved Aiden. He has been a son to me, but …’ I crossed my legs and waited for him to finish. I wasn’t going to make this easy. Hell no, I wasn’t going to make it easy for someone who already referred to my brother in the past tense. ‘Your mother thinks … no, she knows, that this is the right course of action. I mean, I … Yes, it’s hard. No, I don’t mean that. “Hard” is not the word. It’s a disaster. It’s a …’

‘Dad.’

He stopped talking.

‘Tell Mum, okay?’

He nodded and backed away to the door.

‘Take the food with you,’ I said, ‘but leave the water.’