Chapter 10: Dan

Saturday 7 July

The barbecue starts at four, but I won’t rock up till at least six. I’m never in the mood to make sober conversation over catering-sized vats of coleslaw.

Plus I’m enjoying lounging around the penthouse alone. Casey and Angelica left yesterday afternoon and, boy, does it feel good to be able to relax a bit and not worry that I’m about to make yet another stupid parenting mistake. The minute they were gone I opened all the doors and windows. Pollution? UV radiation? Bring it on!

Last night I played music, smoked weed, ordered pizza at 2 a.m. and only went to bed after the sun came up.

And yeah, if I’m delicate this morning, it’s nothing coffee won’t sort. Two double espressos fuel a quick tidy-up, getting rid of any signs that I don’t live alone. I’m not planning to bring someone back, but you never know.

Everyone’s mellow by the time I get to the party, in the garden of a Victorian semi south of the river. The host is the boss of a building company that often takes on our trainees, and I recognize one of my more recent ‘graduates’ hanging out at the end of the garden, flirting with friends of the boss’s daughter. Good luck to him.

As I get myself a beer, someone taps me on the shoulder.

‘This is Dan the Man!’

It takes me a few seconds to recognize the guy standing there, clutching a tiny baby to his chest.

‘Arnie? Mate, it’s good to see you,’ I say, grinning. ‘Is that yours or have you kidnapped it?’

Arnie is a nickname, earned from the impressive muscles sculpted in the prison gym. He laughs. ‘A hundred per cent mine.’ He beckons over a girl who looks so tired I’m surprised she’s still standing. ‘Ems, come over, this is Danny. From the workshop. Danny, meet my fiancée!’

Her smile transforms her face. ‘Hello. So I’ve got you to thank.’

‘What for?’

‘I knew Craig before he went inside, and back then I wouldn’t have trusted him with a house plant, never mind a baby.’ She touches the baby’s head and his eyes open wide.

Craig – yep, that’s his real name, I remember now – nods goofily. ‘Danny did a total number on me. God, I hated you at the time, but now I am all grown-up. An actual dad.’

‘Suits you,’ I say. It does; he’s the proudest of new fathers. ‘How old is he?’

‘Two weeks and three days. And guess what his middle name is?’

‘Arnie?’ I say, and his fiancée looks puzzled.

Arnie – Craig – is blushing. ‘It’s Daniel.’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘We registered his birth last week – he’s Sammy Daniel Flanagan. I was planning to drop into the workshop to tell you and show him off. My dad’s been all Who the hell is Danny? because we didn’t use his name, but you were more use to me than he’s ever been. Plus, who wants a kid’s middle name to be Wayne?’