Vijay places a reassuring hand on my arm. ‘What you never seem to see, Dan, is that people can’t help liking you. I’d kill to have ten per cent of your natural charisma, you lucky bastard.’

He’s wrong. I do see it. I’m that laid-back guy you meet at a party, or a gig, the one with the right playlist to match the mood, or the funny story about your favourite band. You warm to me instantly, easily. An accident of biology means that I am easy on the eye. You might even fall in love with me for five or ten minutes.

And then I’ll walk away and you’ll forget all about me, because that’s easier for everyone. My charisma is a smokescreen, and I learned it from a master illusionist. No one knows what I’m really like, not even Vijay, and we’ve been friends for twelve years.

Though Vijay knows a bit more now than he did three weeks ago. We were on a night out with the festival gang when Casey’s message popped up on Messenger. I’d had a couple of drinks, and I almost deleted it without reading. But something made me open it, and as the words sank in, I couldn’t breathe.

Idoia noticed I’d gone pale and she grabbed my phone, read the message out loud to Veej and Eddie, and the questions started. I recovered fast enough to tell half-truths that didn’t reflect as badly on me as the full story. Yes, I’d known for a while that I had a daughter, as a result of a fling thirteen years ago. No, I’d never met her, because her mother had asked me not to.

But in that moment everything changed. Casey had found me on Facebook and messaged me with terrifying news: she had a brain tumour and was coming to Bristol for specialist treatment. And she needed help.

Of course my gang rallied round, because that’s what decent people do. We all got swept up in the drama. Including me. Even I could handle four weeks of fatherhood.

Except that I’ve already crossed a line by lying to her. Or, at least, not been brave enough to tell her the truth. Casey and her mum needed somewhere to stay, so I offered my flat on Messenger, though I warned her it wasn’t very fancy.

But she instantly sent back a wild tsunami of excited emojis, along with a screenshot she’d taken of a tagged photo showing me at Vijay’s place:

Looks super-fancy to me!

I froze, staring at the picture, as I realized two things: first, that she thought the penthouse was mine. And second, that she must have spent hours on my timeline, building up an idea of her long-lost dad in her head, before summoning up the courage to message me.

I tried to think up a way of breaking it to her, but I couldn’t burst her bubble on bloody Messenger. When I told Veej about the mix-up, he instantly offered us this place for the whole of July. He loved the idea of making her fantasy come true, so she can enjoy all the buzz of the harbour when she’s not at the hospital. And doesn’t Casey deserve this, instead of my poky 1980s flat, with its view of the A-road?