Oh, Casey. I want that too.

But I can’t raise her hopes, or explain why it might not happen. ‘Let’s see if I’ve understood this. The cat is Gemma, the otters might be Gemma and me. So who is the upside-down rabbit?’

‘Me. Because they’re always doing weird stuff to me, to get rid of Bob. But if I can just keep going till the end of the week, hopefully everything – and everyone – will be OK. Because I’ll have earned a happy ending.’

I smile. She has earned it. But we don’t always get what we deserve.

After brunch I have some paperwork to catch up on and Casey says it’s cool, as she gets how important my work is, after meeting Finn. She settles down to watch make-up tutorials on YouTube.

I don’t do much paperwork, though, because I’m trying to work out how to tell Gemma my secrets, without making her hate me. I’ve told her some of it already, and she’s been very fair and understanding, especially about the mistakes I made with Casey and Angelica. I know Gemma likes me, but is it enough to make up for the worst things I’ve done?

I take some Post-its and try to rearrange my confessions in the least shocking order:

Mum

Dad

Vaughn

Jail

Penthouse

When I close my eyes, I try to picture Gemma’s face as I reveal each one. After so long lost in my own lies, the idea of somebody seeing me completely – and loving me for it – seems outrageous, but also . . . wonderful. Hope is such an unfamiliar experience. But it’s also good. Too good to be true?

When the intercom goes, it takes me a moment to realize what the sound is.

When I do, I know it has to be Gemma. Bloody hell. I’m not ready.

Except I’ll never be 100 per cent ready. The most important thing is to tell her the truth. Unless her sister has already found out and that’s why Gemma is here . . .

I come down the steps from the mezzanine, smoothing my hair with my fingers, checking my breath by puffing into my closed hands.

‘You look good, Dad,’ Casey says. ‘And she likes you so much it doesn’t matter, anyway.’

‘That obvious?’

‘Totally.’

I can’t help grinning when I pick up the videophone and the screen comes to life.

And then I stop.

Shit.

It’s not Gemma furiously eyeballing the intercom camera.

It’s Angelica.

Chapter 33: Dan

‘Angelica? How did you get here?’

‘Magic carpet.’ She tuts. ‘I drove, obviously. Let me in before I melt, it’s so hot down here.’

Casey is standing next to me and, as my finger hovers over the entry button, she points at her hair.

Shit.

We haven’t worked out the best way to tell Angelica about Casey’s pink streaks. I’d been hoping that by Friday she’d be too preoccupied with the scan – and, hopefully, good news – to worry about her daughter’s hair colour. Or even that the dye might have started to fade.