‘There is something I forgot to put on there, but it’s the most important.’

‘Anything you like. Except balloons.’

‘OK. I want to get my hair coloured.’

He sighs. ‘But your mum was dead against it . . .’

‘It’s not dangerous. It’s only that Mum thinks everything is dangerous. Please.’

His jaw goes tight as we turn into the basement car park. ‘Is this because you want to impress Harrison?’

‘Doh! Obviously not. I want to look nice for myself.’

Dad frowns as he gets his bag out of the car. ‘She’d be angry with us both if the next time she sees you you’ve got pink hair.’

‘She’s angry with you most of the time anyway.’

‘Ha, you’re not wrong.’ We take the lift and I’m watching him for clues about what he’s going to decide.

The lift jolts into place on the penthouse floor.

My scalp prickles.

Something’s not right.

‘Dad, do you think somebody has broken . . .’

The doors open.

‘What the fuck—’ Dad shouts as we both see the shadow of a man standing at the window. He jumps towards the intruder, fists tight – a different dad from the one I know. One who can fight.

But I’m not scared, because my body recognizes the intruder before my brain does.

‘Harrison!’

He turns round, his face as shocked as my dad’s. Oh, Harrison is so cute. Even cuter than I’d remembered.

‘Surprise!’

Now the fear’s worn off, I’m embarrassed. My hair’s messy and I don’t have any make-up on. He stares at the floor and I notice a rucksack at his feet.

‘How did you get in?’

Harrison stares up at Dad. Neither of them says anything.

‘We’ve got a key,’ Harrison says eventually. ‘My dad does. A spare key, because your dad is forgetful and has locked himself out loads of times. I borrowed it because I left something behind last night. Sorry, Mr Lennon, I didn’t mean to freak you out.’

‘Call ahead next time,’ Dad says, ‘because I was this close to knocking you halfway to Hotwells with the baseball bat I keep under the sofa.’

They stare at each other. ‘No sweat.’

And now I get it: this is Dad’s way of warning him not to hurt me.

Dad cares.

Harrison cares.

And there’s this tension between them, but that’s the way it should be. Dads and daughters are meant to be close. Boyfriends are supposed to be nervous around fathers.

This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

And it keeps getting better. I’m set up for the most fantastic weekend ever. Gemma called Dad an hour ago to ask if we want to go to the seaside tomorrow afternoon, because her family is having a first birthday party for her sister’s baby.

My dad couldn’t stop smiling, and straight after that he said I can have my hair coloured, so long as it washes out before the end of next week. And when I called the salon – me, calling a salon to ask for my stylist – Pepe had had a cancellation for the morning, before we go to Weston-super-Mare.