Diane takes out her phone. ‘Come on, let’s have a photo of you two before I leave. You two are peas in a pod. You’re the spit of each other.’ She hesitates. ‘I don’t see Lorna in you at all, Liberty. You’re all Michael.’

‘So how about it, Liberty bell?’ says Michael. ‘A selfie with the old man?’

Diane laughs. ‘It’s not a selfie, Michael. A selfie is when you take a photo of yourself.’ She shakes her head at me. ‘He thinks he’s so down with the kids. Okay – stand together, you two.’

Michael puts his arm around my shoulder and grins from ear to ear, every bit the proud father.

When Diane shows us the photo, Michael’s eyes well up. ‘Wowsers. Look at the pair of us. Together again. We do look the same, don’t we? You have to say it.’

I look at the picture. He’s right. Same tanned skin, straight white teeth, long nose, thick, dark eyelashes and eyebrows. And now black-brown hair, bleached blonde. Like Diane says, two peas in a pod.

‘Father and daughter, reunited,’ says Diane.

Michael nods, but he’s too choked up to answer.

‘Kids, I’m so sorry.’ Diane checks her Rolex. ‘I really have to run. Don’t look at me like that, Michael. You know who you married.’

‘I know, I know,’ says Michael. ‘A woman who can’t sit still.’

Diane gives him a hug, then me. ‘What a pleasure it was to meet you, Liberty.’

I let out a long breath as she heads off. ‘Okay, Dad. Tell me everything.’

‘Okay. Let’s go inside. I’ll show you the instruments. And we’ll talk.’ Michael pulls open the heavy cottage door. ‘It gets stiff, this old thing. But it has to be metal. Wood goes rotten out here.’

I stand on the threshold, eyes wide.

‘I like to do things differently, Liberty. Come on inside now, there’s a girl.’

Lorna

I roar down our street in Nick’s green MG, tears streaming down my face.

He’s got to Cat too. He’s poisoned her mind. She’s drunk the Michael magic potion …

I slow as I reach our house, heart racing.

Who the hell is that?

An orange-jacket delivery guy lurks outside the house, looking around the tall gate then peering through the crack. He won’t be able to see inside. The crack is sealed. I glued the rubber strip on myself with modelling glue.

I screech to a halt, bumping two car tyres onto the sidewalk (pavement, Lorna) and leap out.

We never order goods by mail because I don’t like strangers hanging around the gate. Or strangers, full stop. Nick calls me paranoid, but he’s given in to my cynical world view and now buys his protein bars and neoprene sleeves in town.