But now, having Will here, those fears have been allayed. Our relationship is still intact; if anything, it’s stronger than ever. We’re still each other’s family. That was never in jeopardy. A piece of paper is not going to change that. And it’s made me realize that, ironically, all those people were right after all, only in a different way than they intended. Because it’s true. I am lucky.

‘Someone else is hungry.’

‘Ignore him.’

Harry is on full begging alert. He’s been sitting glued to the table leg all morning. Having been living with a vegetarian for the past six months, he’s no doubt over the moon that Will has arrived, as it means having bacon in the house.

‘Don’t feed him at the table,’ I instruct, as I catch Will sneaking food off his plate.

‘I didn’t know you were into dogs,’ he says, quickly snatching his hand away as Harry nearly wolfs down his fingers along with the scraps.

‘Neither did I,’ I smile.

‘Did you know Mum’s got another cat? I think that makes five now.’

‘No, I didn’t.’ I nod and smile respectfully. David was already divorced when I met him and my relationship with his ex-wife was polite but perfunctory.

‘I told her she was turning into a crazy cat-lady, and she said thanks for the compliment.’

I laugh.

‘She said to send her love by the way.’

I’d presumed she would be secretly gloating, and I feel surprisingly touched.

‘Tell her thanks – same to her.’ As Will finishes cleaning his plate, I take it from him and put it in the sink. ‘So what do you want to do now?’

‘I thought maybe I’d take a snooze.’ He yawns widely, stretching out his tanned arms above his head, his wrists boasting the woven bracelets of a seasoned backpacker. ‘Jet lag sucks.’

‘I’ve got your room ready.’

‘Thanks.’ Pushing back the chair, he stands up. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, by the way.’

I smile, pleased by the compliment. Will wasn’t known for noticing things, hence the plates of rotting food that I used to find in his bedroom.

‘Good job I did the extension, otherwise you’d be hitting your head on the beams in here.’

‘It looks great.’ Looking around, he nods approvingly. ‘I like your style. It’s a lot different from the old house.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

My eyes sweep over the open shelving filled with its piles of mismatched crockery, some of it inherited from my grandparents; various framed photographs of me and Josie; and a few vintage flea-market finds. They all jostle alongside each other, like my books that line the oak bookshelves Ben has built for me along one whole wall. I like having all my things around me where I can see them. I find it comforting, like an extension of myself.

‘Your dad liked everything put away neatly.’

‘Out of sight, out of mind. Like his feelings, huh?’

A look passes between us, and I realize it’s not just the house that’s different. I am. I don’t want things hidden away any more, whether it’s in cupboards or hearts. I want everything out in the open. I want the unsaid things said.