‘The best, Dad, the best, and I like the name Liam.’

Dad’s eyes are so bright, it’s like someone switched his power back on. I haven’t seen him this animated since before Mom went to Oakridge.

‘I’m on my way to tell your mom,’ he says. ‘Do you want to come with me?’ Then, before I have a chance to answer, he stops in his tracks. ‘Are you in Mattie’s tonight?’

Now is not the time to spill paint on Dad’s picture by telling him I can’t go back there. Instead I tell him I have worked up hours; that I called in earlier to claim them so I could go and see the baby.

‘So are you coming then?’ he says, whistling as he takes his jacket from the back of a chair.

I decide to go, even though I hate visiting Mom when Dad’s there. Watching his face change to match the wretchedness of her situation is pure agony, no one in their right mind would willingly put themselves through it. His eyebrows descend, as if trying to stop his eyes from seeing her. His lips clench, his face turns grey. He transforms into some sort of misery machine. It eases after a while, after he has said his first hellos and holds her hand. But it’s not pretty to watch. Today might be better, with the news of the new arrival. I’m praying it is, that he manages to inject his reaction with some joy.

He doesn’t. My father is turning to stone in front of me; in fact, it’s the worst I have ever seen him. We manage to get as far as Mom’s room when he stops abruptly.

‘I can’t go in,’ he says, turning his face away. I don’t know what to do. What do I say? He’s going to cry, please don’t fucking cry.

‘Don’t cry, Dad,’ I say taking his hand in mine. ‘Please don’t cry.’ But before I know it, I’m crying too.

‘I’m sorry, Becca.’

He’s a blubbering mess, both of us are, standing here outside Mom’s door.

‘I thought… I thought I’d be able, Becca… but…’

‘It’s okay Dad, I’ll go in. I’ll tell her.’

‘It’s just I always imagined this day would be different. Our first grandchild… We often spoke about it.’

‘It’s okay, Dad.’

‘Actually,’ he says, finding a smile amongst the sniffles, ‘we thought it would be you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. We were waiting for it ever since you turned sixteen, if I’m being truthful.’

‘Well, thanks a lot,’ I say, forcing a chuckle. I don’t blame them. I was a bit wild in my early days. ‘Dad, do you want to go down to the coffee shop first? Relax a bit before we go in?’