‘I think it’s a bit late for that,’ I say, my voice faltering.

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it. We’d all had a bit to drink, feelings were running high, these things happen. I’m sure he’ll be apologetic in the morning.’

I make a snorting, huffing sound as I finally manage to wrestle the door open. ‘I doubt that very much. You don’t know my dad.’

‘No, but I know that people often calm down overnight and see things differently. And I know that good men know when they’ve done something out of the ordinary and are quick to try to put it right.’

‘You’re assuming he’s a good man,’ I say, throwing my handbag down and closing the door behind us.

‘I’m sure he is,’ Tom says. ‘That’s why I’m certain he’ll phone up tomorrow to apologise. But for now, let’s just sit down and watch whatever shite’s left on telly, shall we?’

I look at him, both in admiration at his nobleness and slightly enamoured by his naïveté. It’s sweet of him, but also foolish to think that Dad’s going to be anything other than the stubborn old bastard he’s always been. Dad’s never changed his mind or apologised for anything, and he’s not about to start now.

‘You should put some ice on that,’ I say, gesturing toward Tom’s lip.

‘Probably a bit late for that now,’ he says, dabbing at it with the back of his hand. ‘At least it’s stopped bleeding.’

‘It’ll be sore tomorrow.’

He smiles. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’ll be waking up with a sore head.’

‘No, but at least you’ll be waking up with a clear conscience.’

‘It’ll all blow over,’ he says, walking through into the living room. ‘He didn’t mean it. It was just an overreaction. He’s obviously just worried seeing you with another guy, after what happened with Matt.’

I shake my head. ‘That was ages ago. It’s no excuse. If I’m over it, he should bloody well be over it.’

Tom shrugs. ‘Maybe it’s just a dad thing. We find it harder to get over stuff.’

This stops me in my tracks momentarily. I keep forgetting Tom’s got a daughter of his own, and that he probably sees things differently because of that. Especially considering he doesn’t get to see her.

‘Maybe,’ I say.

‘He’s probably just worried because things aren’t necessarily going how he expected.’

‘How do you mean?’

Tom sits down on the arm of the sofa, next to me. ‘Well, look at it this way. You’ve always been a pretty close family. He liked Matt, assumed you’d always be together, treated him like part of the family. Then… well, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘Can I ask you something?’

I nod.

‘When you think back now, did you ever have suspicions about Matt? Not suspicions. Worries, perhaps. With the benefit of hindsight, do you think there might have been some signs as to what was to come?’

I think about this for a moment. ‘Honestly?’ I say. ‘Probably. Yes. I think I knew for a long time his heart wasn’t in it, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Or to anyone else.’