Kiama comes out of the bathroom and grabs his bag. ‘Come on, someone take me down.’

Emma takes his face in her hands and kisses him again, ‘Have fun, okay? And remember what I said, don’t tell Nana about my job, alright.’

‘Alright Mum, love you, love you, love you,’ he says quickly, giving her three kisses back.

Yvonne follows him out onto the walkway and wonders if she can get away with leaving him at the foot of the stairs. Lewis gets out of the car and looks up to the balcony. Shit.

‘Yvonne?’ Emma calls. ‘Remind Dickhead not to touch my son’s hair.’

Yvonne takes Kiama down, past the drunk on the second floor, who looks at him and says, ‘Alright, sonny boy.’

‘See,’ Kiama stage whispers as he grabs Yvonne’s arm, ‘why is he always chatting to me?’

‘Because he’s a friendly old man.’

‘He’s scary. But if he ever touches me, I’ll kick him in the balls and run.’ Kiama demonstrates a karate move then runs ahead.

Outside Lewis leans against his car, with his arms folded. His lips tremble as he tries to hold in a laugh when he sees Yvonne. ‘Special K,’ he shouts. ‘What is going on with this?’ He rubs Kiama’s hair and frowns.

‘I’m growing an afro,’ Kiama says.

‘No, you’re not.’

‘But I can make it look good.’

Lewis jabs him in the ribs and Kiama does the same back.

‘I’m taking you straight to the barbers’.’ He puts his hand up and Kiama gives him a high five. ‘Say bye to Auntie Yvonne.’

Auntie. She’s been referred to as his auntie before, when she’s had to collect him from school or sign him into football lessons. But in this context it makes her feel sick.

‘Laters,’ Kiama calls.

‘Sit up front,’ Lewis says, ‘I left something there for you.’

What is this? Is Lewis putting on a show for her? For all the time she spends with Kiama, this is the first and only time she’s ever seen him with Lewis. It’s made things easier somehow, allowing her to put a huge distance between them both in her mind. She doesn’t see Lewis as Kiama’s dad, if she did, she might think twice about what she’s doing.

‘Don’t call me that,’ she says.

‘What?’ he smiles.

‘Auntie,’ she pushes the rucksack into his chest and he pretends to be winded, as if he’s going to get a laugh out of her now. How can he think this is funny? It’s meant to be the thing they’ve both feared all along, but apparently not for him.

‘This is messed-up,’ he says. She doesn’t look at him, but hears the humour in his voice and that’s bad enough. ‘I had no clue you were going to be here today.’

‘I told you I was meeting Emma for dinner.’