A petite mousey-haired nurse wheeled in a machine. ‘Hello, Teddy. How you doing? How was the beef stew?’

‘Well, Nina, it was like a boiled tramp’s boot, marinated in Bovril.’

‘Oh, Teddy, you crack me up.’ She laughed and looked at me with a what’s-he-like? face. ‘Right, let’s get you checked.’

‘Should I leave?’

‘No, no, you’re all right, love. So, you’re Teddy’s daughter?’

‘No . . . I’m . . . I’m like his daughter, but no.’

‘I was going to say . . . you look a bit young. No offence, Teddy.’ She inserted a gun-like thermometer in his ear and waited for a beep. ‘Gone right down. Reckon you’re on the mend, fella. Now, let’s do your blood pressure.’

He volunteered his arm. ‘Again? Jesus Christ.’

Nina talked over the sound of compressed air as the cuff tightened. ‘Though saying that, Mick Jagger’s still at it, isn’t he?’

A long beep emitted from the machine as it released his limb. Edward glanced at the figures, which I personally have never understood.

‘Perfect, see. Constance here has come to take me home.’ He looked at me with pleading eyes.

I nodded and smiled at the nurse. ‘Yes . . . hopefully.’

‘And that’s been OK-ed, Teddy, has it?’

‘It has indeed, Nina. By the decision-maker. Me.’

She gave a friendly but disapproving look, gathered the wires attached to the machine and walked out while addressing me. ‘You’ll need to get the go-ahead from Mr Wolf, the consultant, when he does his rounds.’

After a short, sharp disagreement between Edward and Mr Wolf, which climaxed with ‘Get back to me when you’ve reached puberty, Doctor’, he was given the green light to go home. I made it very clear to both Edward and Mr Wolf that I’d only be able to check on him after work, and I couldn’t keep it up for long. But Edward had decided, and that was that.

‘For the record, I honestly didn’t mind you calling me,’ I said in the cab on the way home.

‘You could have fooled me.’

‘Oh my God, I’m here, aren’t I?’ I stared towards the Magic Tree dangling from the driver’s rear-view mirror, checking if he was the nosey type, but he was insultingly disinterested in our conversation. ‘It . . . it was because you pretended to be my father.’

‘But I only said that to shut them up—’

‘I know . . . I know you did, but . . . he’s . . . he’s been missing since I was six. I’ve been searching for him ever since . . . and I thought I’d found him, that’s all. But I’m sorry . . . for what I said.’

‘Well, no . . . my goodness, no. I’m the sorry one . . . Missing in what way? On purpose or—’

‘You know . . . vanished. Fucked off. Went to get gravy for the Sunday dinner and never returned. That kind of missing.’