‘Thanks for the reminder, Bee,’ I say. Dad went on about it for ages when I dropped out of my journalism course. Not that Bee went to uni, either. The two of us: an endless disappointment to our highbrow father.

‘Ah, well, there’s still time.’

Bethany rolls her eyes.

I feel slightly bad that my sister has lured Joe here under false pretences. She told him I’d take photos of the two of them for the book proposal he’s putting together, and what with all the drama going on – Dad not being welcome – I haven’t managed to shoot any.

‘Hey, you know what, Joe, you could have a social-media campaign with a hashtag: #FitInFive.’

‘#FitInFive?’

‘Yeah, and then you could do loads of tips that only take five minutes – five-minute workouts, five-minute stretches, a fiveminute meal plan.’

‘That is genius, mate. Thank you. You are the man. I owe you one.’ He high-fives me.

I grin and feel slightly better about myself.

Dad mutters something about it being chilly in the evenings. He pauses for a moment with his jacket half on, crumpled across his shoulders.

‘You all right, Dad?’ I ask.

He pulls something out of his pocket and places it on the table with a tiny chink. It’s a heart-shaped silver frame, with a photo of my mother and father. It was taken nearly twenty years ago: my father is handsome, his hair thick and brown; my mother’s is long and blonde with a slight wave. They’re both smiling. I get a lump in my throat as I remember they’re smiling at my ten-year-old self. The photo is at a rakish angle because I’d cropped it badly, so part of Dad’s head is missing and there’s a big green space next to Mum. I’d taken it in the garden with Bethany’s camera. At ten, I still thought everything would work out.

‘Where was it?’ Bethany asks.

‘In my pocket.’

As if she’s speaking to a child, she says, ‘Do you think it was there all along?’

‘I could have sworn… I looked everywhere.’

‘So did I,’ I say, puzzled. I’m sure I checked his pockets, but maybe I hadn’t looked in that jacket.

Matt, who has been studiously ignoring my father, now pours a large measure of red wine and pushes the glass over to him.

‘Maybe this will jog your memory.’

Amy inhales sharply, and I bang my beer down, nearly choking on a mouthful. I’ve never thought of Matt as a cruel man, but I guess grief can warp a person. Joe and Luca look stunned. They both leave the table at the same time: Luca heads over to the children, who are playing with the chess pieces on the other side of the pool, and Joe goes into the kitchen. Presumably he’s going to pretend to look at the chicken.