I stood in the doorway until they were safely in Jasper’s car, then I stayed watching the red tail lights until they turned out of sight.

Downstairs again the house smelled of congealed food and smoke and lilies of the valley, but it was too cold outside to open the garden doors. Jack was staring sightlessly at the television in defensive posture, his knees drawn up against his chest and his arms wound round them. Paul was the last remaining guest. He was making tea, with small tidy movements. He handed me a mug. Silence was silted up in the corners of the room; I knew they hadn’t spoken to each other while I was upstairs. Or maybe, most probably, Paul had tried to talk and Jack had rebuffed him.

‘It’s very late,’ I said. ‘Jack?’

He ignored me and went on gazing at the screen. In fact, it was only just after eleven thirty. In a minute Paul would leave and Jack and I would retreat to our bedrooms. I was waiting for Paul to say that he must go home, but he only leaned back against the sink with his fingers laced round his mug of tea. The atmosphere reminded me of the day, the terrible day, with the thunderstorm all the time waiting to break.

Paul tilted his head, semaphoring a question.

He was wearing the same blue shirt as that first time when I went to school to see him about Jack’s truancy. His face had lately become blurred with familiarity but the sudden awkwardness of the moment made me look at him afresh. Neat but unremarkable features, it was true, with eyelids that sloped downwards at the corners. Kind eyes, though. Lines of resignation as well as laughter at the corners of his mouth. A good, mobile mouth; I remembered how it felt against my skin.

My own mouth was stiff.

He watched and waited as my eyes turned to Jack. I didn’t know what to say. For some reason I thought of Auntie Viv and then the hated Maxine. So I said nothing at all.

I disappointed Paul. I knew it, because he put his mug down very carefully and turned away from me. The television babbled between the three of us, an insane commentary.

‘Jack, could you turn that off, please?’ His voice was crisp. Startled, Jack pointed the remote and we descended into silence. Paul went and sat down on the chair nearest to him. He said, ‘I’d like to stay here tonight with Sadie. How would you feel about that?’

Jack’s back went rigid. But he managed a small shrug, affecting indifference.

‘You don’t mind?’

Jack said coldly, ‘You’re not my dad, are you?’

‘No, I’m not.’