‘So, Julie, Dad says that you’re a physio.’

‘That’s right, I specialise in neurological conditions, so people with illnesses such as MS and Parkinson’s or who have had strokes or brain injuries.’

She’s finished her meal too and she picks up the cloth napkin from her lap and folds it on the table as she talks.

‘It must be really rewarding,’ says Miles.

‘It can be. It can be frustrating too, what with the limitations of their injuries or illnesses, but I guess the days when you make that difference and make someone’s life a bit easier and a bit better in quality, those are the days that I take as a win.’

I see the pride in Dad’s eyes and if I was under any kind of illusion that Julie was just another woman that Dad was dating, that look has well and truly shattered it. Miles was right; today was a big deal, but not because he was invited to lunch, but because Julie was. I’ve always hoped that Dad would one day find happiness with someone again, but I never expected for it to hurt so much.

‘I’ll get dessert, shall I?’ says Julie.

She starts to take the plates and when I go to stand up, she tells me to sit back down.

I watch as she and Dad work almost in sync with each other as they get the dessert out of the fridge and the side plates from the cupboard.

‘This looks amazing,’ says Miles as a large banoffee pie gets placed on the table.

‘Julie made it; she’s a wonderful dessert maker.’

‘It’s ever so easy.’ She begins to cut the slices and hands them out.

Dad goes to squirt extra cream on it.

‘I don’t think you need any more than that, there’s already hundreds of calories in it,’ I say.

‘Edie, you fuss too much.’ He squirts a little from the can.

‘I probably should have made something less calorific,’ says Julie, as she takes his plate and scrapes the cream off into the empty side of the pie dish and reduces his slice to a smaller one. ‘There you go.’

She hands him back his plate, and I wait for him to pick up the squirty cream in defiance, but he doesn’t.

‘Oh, you’re probably right,’ he says, taking a bite. ‘It’s delicious. Worth every calorie.’

I stab a little too forcefully at the biscuit base and a bit flies across the table. For so long I’ve been the one to keep Dad on the straight and narrow, trying to reduce his fat intake in the hope of lowering his cholesterol, and now Julie’s only been on the scene five minutes and I already feel like he no longer needs me.

‘Your dad mentioned you did the talk at school for him when I’d locked myself out. I felt terrible.’