A young chap approaches and I order some coffee. He thrusts a menu into my hands, and disappears.

‘What do you fancy?’ Dad says.

‘Give me a sec,’ I say, shuffling out of my jacket, before sitting down.

‘Your hair looks nice.’

‘No it doesn’t. I didn’t have it done.’

‘Well I’ve always liked it when you don’t drag out your natural curls.’

I smile, and we look at the menus. ‘I think I’ll go for the prawn salad sandwich in granary,’ I say.

Dad’s eyes flit across the choices. ‘It’s amazing news about Thomas, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but yes, definitely something to keep us buoyant in a sea that’s intent on dragging us under.’

‘Very poetic.’ I smile at him.

‘I try my best.’

‘And yes, it’s great news. We certainly need it.’

‘We do indeed.’

‘I saw Rosamund yesterday, Dad.’ I avoided telling him last night and this morning, but to not mention her visit now feels deceitful. ‘She came round when you were at the cinema.’ I pause for a moment. ‘Someone left a mask on her doorstep.’

‘Well she needs to tell the police, not you.’ Something shifts in his eyes, and he shakes his head. ‘That bloody woman.’

‘I know you don’t like her but—’

‘I think I’ll have poached egg on toast.’ He puts down his menu.

‘Dad?’

‘She’s a thoroughly dislikeable woman.’

‘Mum liked her.’

‘Mum didn’t know her. Not really.’

‘And you did?’

‘Are you ready to order?’ The young man is back with my coffee. He puts it down in front of me, as I reel off our order in a monotone.

Once he’s gone, I continue. ‘I know she let Mum down but she’s sorry, Dad. Why do you hate her so much?’

‘Not hate, Amelia. Hate is too strong a word. Let’s leave it, shall we?’

‘But you promised me a heart-to-heart.’

‘Not about bloody Rosamund Green.’

I lean forward. There’s something else. I know it. ‘Dad?’

‘OK, if you really want to know.’ He breathes in a sigh. ‘She made a pass at me, a very long time ago.’

‘Rosamund?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised. Your dad wasn’t always a dusty historian.’

I smile, remembering how Mum described him that way.

‘As I say, it was a long time ago, when your mum worked in Rosamund’s flower shop. There was a party.’ A long pause fills the air, and the sounds of chatter and clanking cutlery fill my senses. ‘She flirted with me during the evening, but your mum couldn’t see it, kept telling me how friendly she was. That she hoped I liked her. And then—’

‘You turned her down, I hope.’