Dad jumps and turns around, ‘Boy, don’t address my woman. Alexa, play Enter the Wu-tang (36 Chambers).’

Kiama yawns. ‘How many times do we need to hear this?’

A huge lasagne sits covered in foil on top of the hob. ‘Did you eat already?’ Kiama asks.

‘No. I was waiting on your lazy arse.’

‘I’ll get the plates.’ As he does he notices the envelope has been moved to one side. Maybe it was moved while Dad was cleaning the kitchen.

‘Do you want to eat in the—’ Dad nods towards the dining table, to where they used to eat every dinner, but Kiama can’t remember the last time they sat there. It feels too weird without Nana. Her chair, at the head of the table, still has the little purple cushion on it, the one she kept for her back.

‘Here’s fine,’ he says.

‘Good.’ Dad looks relieved.

‘This smells amazing. All I’ve had all day was a vegan burger at the jump park. It was rank. Whose idea was that?’

‘Yours,’ Dad laughs while piling food onto the plates.

They sit side by side and start, but the atmosphere is heavy. They can’t go on acting like nothing was said earlier, like nothing’s changed.

Dad shifts forward on the stool and nods towards the envelope. ‘I can’t believe how young Emma looks in those photos.’

‘You looked at them?’

He nods and pushes the food around on his plate. ‘I can see a bit of you in her face. Weird. It’s not something I ever saw before.’ He puts his fork down. ‘You should get reprints. Your grandparents might like copies.’

Is this it? Dad’s way of giving his blessing to the trip? ‘What are you saying?’

Dad gets up and goes to the fridge, but shuts it and returns empty-handed. ‘You know, the last time you went out there you almost didn’t come back.’

Kiama tips his head back and huffs. ‘This isn’t what I need to hear.’

‘Of course not, but for me, it’s all I think about, that I could lose you.’

And as much as Kiama knows he’s got to do this trip for his own peace of mind, he suddenly feels the pain of what he’s putting Dad through.

‘But I understand what you’re trying to do. Why you need to go.’ Dad raises his hand and rubs Kiama’s shoulder. ‘I understand.’

Chapter Five

Trust

June 2001

Yvonne

Yvonne shuffles in her seat as they make the bus journey from one dreary side of Harrow to the other. ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.’

Emma checks her reflection in the window and swipes the lip gloss wand across her mouth. ‘Dude, what is wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘So, why are you so down? I know it’s not your time of the month.’ Emma throws the gloss into Yvonne’s open bag.