His phone vibrates against the table. ‘He’s doing my nut in with these messages.’ Kiama types something back, his thick eyebrows knotting together. He chucks the phone on the seat next to him and lets out a kind of groan.

She feels bad for making fun of him and wants to ask a question about his music but is interrupted when the phone buzzes again and Kiama growls comically as he lifts it to his ear, ‘Dad? Why are you bombarding me? Yeah, I’m fine. Course, I’m fine. Yvonne’s here.’

She looks at him and Kiama takes it as an acknowledgement. ‘She says hi,’ he smiles. ‘No, we’re through security already. We’re flying in an hour. You got my flight details, read them.’ He picks another chip from the bowl and listens. The sudden loud snap of his laughter reminds Yvonne of him as a kid. It’s still loud enough to turn heads. ‘Course they let me through… No they didn’t make me take my piercings out… Actually I put the heroin up my arse.’ He laughs again. He talks to Lewis like a friend, not a parent. It makes it hard to see him as she’s been trying to, as an adult with a middle-age spread. ‘Why are you asking me stupid questions? Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll send you her number.’ He’s getting ratty. ‘Talk later. Message me.’ He hangs up. ‘Jesus. I’m sending him your number.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Because soon I’m going to stop answering these ridiculous messages from him.’

Kiama doesn’t know that Lewis has been trying to contact her, calling her work and filling her voicemail with messages. She had listened to each one several times, amazed at how many different ways Lewis could word ‘get your story straight’. It’s all he seems to care about, that Yvonne not divulge the past to Kiama.

But surely the whole point of the trip is for him to find out about the past. Though she’s unsure exactly what it is he wants to find out.

They walk out of the pub and towards the gate. He stretches and groans, ‘I ate too much. I’m also so regretting these jeans.’ He hitches them up. ‘I was going for that DJ-on-a-world-tour look.’

‘Please tell me you don’t DJ as well?’

‘No,’ he side-eyes her, ‘not anymore.’

They step onto the escalator and he faces her. ‘When was the last time you went away?’

‘I don’t go abroad much.’

He nods. ‘Surely you earn enough doing your… whatsit you do again?’

‘I’m a partner at a comms agency.’

‘Yeah, that. Bet you jet off every now and then?’

‘Not if I can help it. Though I did go to Abu Dhabi last year for the Grand Prix.’

‘Cool.’