He swallowed hard, the guilt in his eyes palpable.

‘I got frustrated. I told Gisele to pull herself together – that she had a daughter to look after.’

‘You were probably tired.’ I tried to make excuses, but he wouldn’t let me.

‘There’s no excuse for what I did.’ He shook his head, his voice almost breaking. ‘If that wasn’t bad enough, when she did finally bond with Helen, instead of being happy I felt rejected. It was like I didn’t exist and I got jealous. Jealous of my own daughter: what kind of man does that make me?’

Pain flashed across Valentine’s face and my instinct was to comfort him, but I couldn’t find the right words.

‘And there was this woman I was doing some decorating for. She lived on the other side of town. She paid me attention. Flattered me, I suppose. And I was weak and stupid and . . .’ His voice trailed off and he couldn’t bear to look at me. ‘It only lasted a couple of weeks, if that. One evening I walked into the house and Gisele was in the chair rocking Helen, fast asleep, and they looked perfect. They were perfect. And I suddenly realized I risked losing everything I’d ever wanted.’

He hung his head with shame then, while I absorbed his story, trying to make sense of the emotions being triggered in me.

‘I swore I’d never take them for granted again – never do anything like that again – and I swear to God I kept my word. I never saw the woman again.’

Valentine was asking me to believe him and I did believe him. And I believed that he was sorry. And yet I couldn’t help thinking how he’d cheated on Gisele, just as David had cheated on me, and that his confession felt almost like a personal betrayal.

‘But then when Helen died all those years later, I felt like it was my fault. Like I was being punished. I’m not a religious man, but it felt as if God was making me pay for what I’d done – for being unfaithful, for being jealous of my little girl.’

‘But that’s nonsense.’

‘Is it, though?’ His face was racked with pain and, despite my own hurt, I felt a sudden need to protect him.

‘No God worth believing in is going to sit in judgement,’ I told Valentine firmly and, even as I said it, I knew that I couldn’t, either.

‘But I did something very wrong. I betrayed Gisele. I was jealous of my own daughter.’

‘Helen had an asthma attack,’ I said firmly. ‘She didn’t have her inhaler. It was nothing to do with you. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.’

‘But if I hadn’t cheated on my wife . . .’

‘What? Helen wouldn’t have suffered from asthma? She wouldn’t have forgotten her inhaler?’ I looked at him then across the table, my face stern. ‘You know that’s not true, don’t you? You loved your daughter, and she loved you. You mustn’t blame yourself. It was a tragic, tragic accident. You have to believe me.’ I heard my voice rising and felt a sense of urgency.