I looked down and saw my knuckles turning white against the bright red of the trolley’s plastic-coated bar. I opened my mouth but the words got stuck on the first attempt.

‘Can I interest either of you in a cheese puff?’

‘No!’ I yelped at a kindly-looking woman holding out a plate full of sample snacks. She shrank back into her tabard, slowly lowering the puff. ‘I mean, no thank you,’ I corrected. Clearing my throat, I turned back to Dad and tried again. ‘What do you mean, when Mum got pregnant?’

‘You know your mum was pregnant when we got engaged,’ Dad said, sliding the gin in next to the peanuts, the Bombay Mix and a giant box of Walkers crisps. ‘I’m sure we’ve talked about this before.’

‘We definitely haven’t,’ I croaked. But why hadn’t we? Mum had never, ever, ever mentioned it. Was the baby planned? Was it a boy or a girl? If they’d had that baby, would they have still had me? These were not the kind of existential thoughts I wanted to entertain in a Costco.

‘What happened?’

‘She lost the baby, obviously, but by that time, the wedding was all arranged. Besides, I was fairly sure I was going to ask her anyway so we went ahead with it,’ Dad said, clucking his tongue as he considered two different kinds of whisky. As though he hadn’t just delivered the biggest family truth bomb I’d heard in, well, a week. I grabbed my phone and opened a message to my sister while Dad kept right on talking.

Did you know mum and dad only got engaged because she was pregnant and then she had a miscarriage?

‘I got to thinking about it when we were at Simon and Sheila’s party. It wasn’t exactly the wedding of your mum’s dreams and she deserves something special. That’s why I wanted to do the whole renewal thing, not just some party. We both missed out on a lot when I was working every hour god sent and she was up to her eyeballs in you and your sister. I have to say, it’s been a nice discovery, getting to spend so much time together since Jo left home. Like getting to know each other all over again.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Even with you back.’

‘Right.’ I was very ready to change the subject before he mentioned the sushi incident. ‘So, what sort of wine were you thinking about?’

But it was too late. Dad had turned into one of the giant cans of Pringles in our trolley. He had been popped and he could not stop.