‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ Dad said. ‘Where were you when she needed you? I’ll tell you where. Nowhere. I may not have been perfect, but I was a lot better than nothing.’

I turned back just in time to see him give Mark a little shove.

‘Stop it, both of you,’ I yelled, but I already was too late and neither of them was paying me any attention.

It happened so fast there was no chance to put myself between them. One minute they were both standing there eyeballing each other and the next minute Mark was still standing and Dad was bellowing like a gored bull and reeling back down the steps, clutching his nose, and there was blood on his face and all down his shirt, as if he’d been caught in an explosion.

‘You bastard!’ I shouted at Mark, and shoved him aside so I could get to Dad. ‘Dad, are you all right? Your nose isn’t broken, is it?’

‘Don’t think so,’ Dad mumbled. It was hard to hear him; his hand was still covering his nose. ‘Bloody hurts, though.’

I hated him for the way he looked up at Mark – resentful, beaten – almost as much as I hated Mark for looking down at us with such disdain.

‘You should come in so we can clean that up and give you some ice to put on it or something,’ I said to Dad.

Mark relaxed his fist and shook it out.

‘He’s not coming into your mother’s flat,’ he said. ‘Not tonight. Not any night.’

‘You are not the one who gets to decide that,’ I told him.

‘Neither are you. Your mother is. But it looks like Sean agrees with her. Look, he’s already gone.’

He was right. Dad was hurrying away down the street, one hand still pressed to his bleeding nose.

I ran after him. ‘Dad, come back! You don’t have to go like this.’

‘Ava, go home,’ he muttered.

‘Well, where are you going?’

‘To get a drink. Leave me be, Ava. It’s no good. I can’t do this any more. Why kid ourselves? I was never any good at it. The whole Dad thing. And now it’s over.’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘Of all the pitiful, pathetic things to say…’

‘There’s no point being angry with me,’ he said. ‘I’m done.’

He kept on walking and I stayed where I was. Then he turned the corner of the street and disappeared and I turned and trudged back towards Mark. He was waiting in the doorway and looking on in satisfaction, as if he’d just seen off an interloper.

As I approached he made a slight move as if to lay a hand on my shoulder to soothe or placate me, and I flinched away.

‘You’re very loyal to him, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘In spite of everything.’

‘He may be a drunk. But you’re a bully,’ I said. ‘Mum may not be able to see it. But I do. Dad said you’d come crawling out of the woodwork because you were free. Free from what? Where have you been?’