When he got up, he put on the towelling gown hanging on the door, for lack of anything else. He’d been too distraught even to think of packing a change of clothing, had half expected a rejection and having to hitchhike back.

When he peeped into the main area, he saw Jez – his father – sitting there with a cup of coffee, which smelled wonderful. ‘Is there any more of that?’

‘Of course. Over there. Help yourself.’

As Tom went back to the sitting area with a mug of hot coffee, Jez waved one hand towards a pile of clothes. ‘I wondered if you’d like to borrow something to wear, since you didn’t bring anything? I’d guess we’re about the same size. If you don’t like these, we can send out for something else.’

Tom stared at him, then shook his head slightly. This still felt unreal. Send out for clothes, for heaven’s sake, not nip out and buy something. ‘I don’t mind borrowing something of yours, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course it is. I’ve arranged for my lawyer to come here at ten but I think we ought to phone your mother before then. She won’t be happy about us meeting but, unless she’s changed greatly, she’ll prefer to know what’s going on.’

‘She’s not changed.’ Tom sipped the coffee and eyed a big platter of pastries and fruit, set out like a work of art, with just a couple of gaps in the pattern.

‘Help yourself to food. I’ve had my breakfast and anything left over will only be thrown away.’

Tom ate heartily then picked up the pile of clothes and took it into his bedroom. They fitted him well. Classy, they were, and obviously expensive. He stroked the beautiful material of the trousers and fingered the soft wool of the sweater, smiling at himself in the mirror. He felt a bit more confident dressed like this. People were wrong when they said clothes didn’t matter. You had to feel right for the company you were keeping and his scruffy jeans were completely wrong for this posh hotel.

After that, they rang his mother, something that set his stomach churning. She was definitely unhappy about what he’d done, but he managed to calm her down and explain why he’d lied about going for a job interview, also why he’d not dared leave the children with Gail.

There was silence, then, ‘I knew something was wrong with her, but I didn’t realise what it was. Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Tom?’

‘It’s not the sort of thing you broadcast and she kept promising to give up the booze. Only she didn’t, well, not for more than a week, anyway. She had a psychotic incident when she tried smoking pot, which frightened her and kept her off it from then on. That was when she went into hospital for a few days when Hayley was two, remember?’ He heard her sigh.

‘Yes. I do remember. We wondered why you didn’t want us visiting her. We thought she must have had some kind of surgery, something embarrassing.’