Dad’s a stubborn old bastard, but I get the feeling that if the shit were ever to really hit the fan, he might finally relent. Even knowing how obstinate and headstrong he is, I still don’t expect to hear the response that comes out of his mouth.

‘Alright. Fine. I’ll do that now. Was there anything else?’

‘No,’ I say, trying to answer quickly and not leave any form of silence that might indicate the slightest level of doubt or hesitation on my part. ‘No, nothing else.’

‘Bye then,’ he says, and the line goes dead.

I look at Tom, unsure as to what my future holds, but knowing it’s right there in front of me. He steps forward, pulling me into him, and now my future is holding me.

17

It’s a big moment for me. I’ve always been close to my parents, and having a conversation like that is huge. We’ve never really fallen out before, mainly because I’ve always gone along with whatever they’ve wanted and have never really put my head above the parapet and gone my own way.

Tom tells me it’s just the shock of things, and that they’ll come round eventually. At the end of the day, he says, who wants to lose their only daughter over something so silly and trivial? Lots of people get through lots worse.

We sit on the sofa and I lean into him, my head on his shoulder as his hand caresses my hip.

‘You know I’ll do what I can, don’t you?’ Tom says. ‘To support you. I mean, there’s not a whole lot I can do financially, but I’ll do what I can.’

‘I know. But you don’t need to do that,’ I say.

‘No, but I’d like to. I hate seeing you like this. I’m due a pay rise at some point, so I’ll have a word at work. I can probably spare a little bit, but I don’t know if it’ll do much good. It’s paying for that bloody flat every month that’s doing it. You’d think he’d give me mates’ rates or something, but no. It’s sucking me dry.’

Tom puts the TV on and we flick through the channels, trying to find something that isn’t a repeat of a Christmas special from a decade or two earlier.

Boxing Day is usually spent with my parents. We’ll either meet for drinks in a pub somewhere or go for a walk. But this year that isn’t happening. Yesterday’s antics and my conversation with Dad this morning have probably put paid to that little family tradition. Short of a miracle, I can’t see that happening again.

Right now, I’m not even at the stage of feeling bad about it. If he’s upset, fine. He stepped a long way over the line and has one hell of a lot of work to do before I let him back into my life. I’m not budging on that. What worries me most right now is money.

I’ve been struggling with money for a while. Mum and Dad’s contribution to the mortgage went a long way to just ensuring I could make ends meet, and without that I’m going to be completely and utterly lost. There’s no way I’m going to qualify for any credit cards, especially seeing as I’m struggling to repay the ones I’ve got. And getting into even more debt is hardly going to improve things for me. As far as I can see it, I’ve only got one option.