Now. Tell him now. You’re lying to him, and to yourself, by not telling him about the embryos.

But we’re already at the castellated entrance to Ashton Court and Bear is pulling so hard at the lead I almost topple over. When I let him go, he rolls in the grass, making high-pitched squeals of pleasure.

‘OK, Dan. Your turn now. Casey says you work in music. Is that what makes you happy?’

‘For sure. The first time I ever got close to a band playing live – oh, I thought nothing else would ever be that good.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Fourteen. I spent some time in foster care when I was a teenager, and the family lived close to Reading Festival. Me and a school mate, we snuck in. That was me. Hooked for life. I can’t even tell you how it felt.’

I’m curious about the foster-care part, but even more curious about his passion for music. ‘Try. For me.’

He stops, closes his eyes, swaying as though he’s back there. ‘The way the sound travels through you. I’m not a music snob. It could be almost any genre, because when an artist puts everything they’ve got into their act, it transmits to everyone around. You can’t resist, even if you try your hardest, and it’s like we’re all joined up, connected—’ He stops. ‘I sound deranged, don’t I?’

‘No. I like it. I hate small talk. This is real. Passionate.’

He stares at me and I almost regret using that word out loud.

Almost.

Bear has come back to me now, and he’s doing his impatient dance, stepping backwards and forwards, waiting for me to throw the ball. I lob it as far as I can and he races after it.

‘The downer is: it’s a passion that’s left me with tinnitus. So I get ringing and buzzing in my ears and I’ll lose more of my hearing as I get older.’ He laughs. ‘Not exactly selling myself, am I?’

It wouldn’t stop me wanting to get old with you.

Whoa! Stop this right now, Gemma Boxer. ‘So what is it you do at festivals?’

‘A good friend of mine runs one of the big staging companies. Setting up for the artists – lighting, sound systems, even pyrotechnics. I manage the project overall. But that’s seasonal, so I also help run a carpentry training workshop. We take kids who’ve had a rough start and give them skills so they can apply for an apprenticeship.’

‘Sounds rewarding.’

He nods. ‘Yeah. I – I try to give them what I would have needed, when I was a teenager.’

‘Needed but didn’t get?’

Dan doesn’t reply. Bear is back and has dropped the ball at our feet, so now Dan picks it up and throws it.

He watches the dog tear through the grass before speaking again. ‘It’s no biggie. When I was around Casey’s age, my real dad stopped being in my life.’ He’s speaking slowly now, and I can see the effort that’s going into deciding what words to use, and how much to tell me. ‘My foster parents were great, but I’d just hit that adolescent stage when I wouldn’t listen to anyone. It took me till I was well into my twenties to get my shit together.’