‘Shh, Bear, it’s going to be OK,’ Casey says.

Gemma’s eyes meet mine and there’s so much sadness. When we get to the floor below the penthouse, the lift stops, and I remember Angelica changed the settings, so my key card won’t let me in. I press the intercom. ‘It’s us. We’re here.’

The lift begins to move up to the top floor. I can do this. Be gracious, smile and let my daughter go.

The doors open.

My fists clench without my knowing why.

I’m looking up, expecting to see Angelica, but she’s not alone.

Blood roars in my ears.

Him.

Older, but still instantly recognizable, from the arrogant way he stands to the cool cruelty in his eyes.

‘Gramps!’ Casey cries out, pushing past me. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Because you’re a drama queen, young lady.’ He leans down to kiss her, oddly formal for a grandfather. ‘I came to be with your mother, she’s been worried sick.’

Now Casey falls into her mum’s arms, but I am staring at Vaughn Parr. Although his hair and skin are twelve years greyer, his sneering expression hasn’t changed.

But I have. Twelve years. Twelve fucking years away from my daughter. Everything would have been so different, if it hadn’t been for him.

‘So you’re Dan,’ he says, as though we’ve never met, and my fists itch with the desire to knock him down.

Violence is for stupid people, Dazzler. A smart guy talks his way out of a situation.

Dad only lashed out if he was cornered and had no other means of escape. But I am not my dad.

It happens so fast, but in slow motion too somehow. My right arm jerks forward, and I love the panic in Vaughn’s eyes as his elbow moves up to protect that loathsome face, and my hand misses by millimetres and I grunt, and someone’s pulling me back, hands on my shoulders, and although they’re not strong, it’s enough of a shock to stop me going for a second punch.

The fear in Vaughn’s eyes has changed to triumph. I peer beyond him to see Casey staring at me, horrified.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Angelica says. ‘That’s my dad – don’t you dare attack him.’

It’s Gemma guiding me backwards into the lift. ‘Come on, this won’t help.’

Too late, I’m understanding the damage I’ve just done. ‘Let me explain,’ I say to Casey, but there is no explanation that makes it OK to throw a punch at your child’s grandfather.

The lift doors are closing and I know I’ve made it a cast-iron certainty that this will be the very last time I see my girl.

‘What the hell was that about?’ Gemma hisses as soon as the lift is moving.

My breath is ragged as the rage ebbs away. ‘He’s Casey’s grandfather.’

‘I worked that out for myself. He’s the spitting image of her, and Angelica. But what did he do to deserve that?’

He really is the spitting image. Even before he’s shown to my table in the visiting hall, I can tell he’s Angelica’s dad, from the sharp chin and the haughty posture. The other visitors grin as soon as they see their partners or dads or sons. Vaughn Parr stands apart, and everything from his clothes to his pained expression screams: This is not my world.