It’s like being in a computer game where Level 1 is Angelica: I need to get past her defences so I can explain why I lashed out at her father, and how much I regret listening to him thirteen years ago. More than that, I have to convince her I want to be different now. If I get through that . . .

Level Two would be talking to Casey. Asking her to give me another chance at being her dad, and proving I can change.

And if that works, Level Three would be going back to Gemma, to thank her and ask her—

Mustn’t get ahead of myself.

At 6 a.m. I message Angelica, asking if she’ll meet me. She must be awake too, because she texts back immediately:

Give me one good reason why I should.

I reply:

I need to tell you what happened when I met your dad thirteen years ago.

She doesn’t reply for a couple of minutes. Then:

Outside, 6:30. You’ve got 5 minutes. No more.

My clothes are still damp, and there’s a crispness in the air when I walk along the deserted Harbourside. I’m early and I sit on the quay, my legs dangling over the side. I breathe in the tang of moss and fuel.

‘Your five minutes start now.’

When I turn, she’s silhouetted against the early light, and her uneven walk on the cobbles reminds me of the very first moment I saw her.

‘I don’t know why I’m even giving you that long,’ she says, ‘after that unprovoked attack on my dad.’

I scramble to my feet, almost slipping. She doesn’t help. ‘That’s what he said, was it? That it was unprovoked?’

When she steps forward, the sun falls in her weary eyes. I think I see a flicker of doubt. ‘You’re down to four minutes now,’ she says.

‘Your dad and I have met before. Two days after you gave birth he came to visit me in prison.’

The doubt turns to disbelief. ‘No, he didn’t. He and Mum were there at the hospital, with me – unlike you. Do you ever stop lying or is it some kind of . . . sickness?’

‘He was there. He came to tell me you’d had Casey. That you’d nearly died and Casey had too.’

‘Now I know you’re talking shit. I did feel like I’d been run over by a double-decker bus, but I was never in real danger.’

So Vaughn did exaggerate. Which must mean he’d found out what happened to my mum, and used that against me? That’s more than cruel. It’s evil.

‘Well, that’s not how your dad explained it. He sat in the visiting hall and said it had been touch and go. Which was terrifying, because you know that my mum did die giving birth to me.’

‘I’m sorry you lost your mum. But you never mentioned this visit before. It’s your word against his, and you are the expert at telling lies to get yourself out of trouble.’