They tried so hard to hide their sadness the day they arrived at Drummondale House a year ago, the sun warm on their backs as they headed across the cobbled car park.

Amelia clung on to her dad’s arm. To her, he’d always been strong. Her rock. The person she leaned on if her world fell apart: like the night she was dumped at the school prom by Joshua Williams, or the day she didn’t get that weekend job at Blockbuster she’d set her heart on.

Once, when she was little, her dad had appeared in the kitchen wearing green corduroy trousers that were slightly baggy at the knees, and an equally green cardigan. Amelia called him The Incredible Hulk, and her mum couldn’t stop laughing. She could never see what Amelia could see – called him a dusty historian. Maybe that’s why she left him for Jackson.

Today there was no sign of The Incredible Hulk. Her dad was struggling like the rest of them. This was to be her mum’s final holiday, and she’d gathered those she loved most in the Scottish Highlands.

As they strolled across the grass, Amelia released her dad’s arm. Her insides were a knot of sadness and anxiety, her eyes ached from tears she tried to hold back. But she knew, like everyone else on this ridiculous venture, that she had to make it the best holiday ever, for her mum’s sake.

‘You OK?’ she asked, looking up at her dad as they followed the rest of the family – six of them, and Maddie – towards Drummondale House reception.

He fiddled with the binoculars hanging around his neck – always a keen bird watcher – and shrugged, eyes shining. It was a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t OK. He was losing the only woman he had ever loved to cancer, and he couldn’t even comfort and care for her, because Jackson bloody Cromwell had moved in on her a year ago – taken her from him.

Still, Amelia told herself, her mum must care for her dad. She wanted him to be there. She touched his arm. ‘We’ll get through this,’ she said. ‘For Mum.’

‘Well, it’s a tough one, and no mistaking.’ He rubbed his head with both hands, as though the action would scrub away the pain. ‘And if I’m honest, I don’t feel right being here. I don’t belong with your mum anymore.’

‘But she still loves you, in her own way.’

He shook his head.

‘You were together for over thirty years, Dad. You had three children together.’

‘Yes, but …’ He looked towards the cloudless sky, his brown eyes watery. ‘Bloody disease,’ he muttered, his voice cracking. He’d aged. His dark hair speckled with grey, the creases on his forehead deepened. Amelia leaned into him. Rested her head on his shoulder. Finding out her mum had terminal cancer had taken its toll on them all.