‘Ugh! My grandad’s one of those lawyers who does house sales, and that’s boring enough.’ It’s the first time she’s mentioned anyone else in her family.

‘Your mum’s dad?’

‘Yep.’ She steps towards me and speaks in a whisper: ‘My dad hasn’t got any family left. But don’t let that put you off – it’s not his fault and he’s a good guy, honestly.’

Is she trying to ‘sell’ her father to me as a boyfriend? Before I can find out more, Dan’s bringing out a tray. There’s a jug of water, a carton of juice and a bottle of rosé.

The thought of taking a sip makes me feel dizzy. His arm muscles tense as he puts a corkscrew on the top. There is something so desirable about a hot man opening a cold bottle of wine.

But I say, ‘Don’t open it unless you want some. I’ll stick to water.’

He puts the corkscrew down again. ‘Good idea. I shouldn’t have anything while I’m in charge of a twelve-year-old.’

‘Ha, more like this twelve-year-old is in charge of you,’ Casey says, and we’re all laughing because it’s funny and true.

‘Have you got a big family, Gemma?’ Casey asks.

‘Not huge, but close. My grandparents all live a long way away, so mostly it’s me, my parents, my sister, her wife and two kids. They drive me mad – my mum and sister are so nosy and bossy, and my dad is always telling the same stories. But that’s families for you.’

Casey sighs. ‘My grandparents are all I’ve got, except Mum, and they are rubbish. I’ve tried to be funny and interesting, but they hate me because I ruined my mum’s chances of going to university and having a proper career.’

‘Oh. I’m sure they don’t hate you.’

She thinks it over. ‘My grandad might not, I guess. He makes a bit more effort. Gramps will pay the bills if we’re running short, and Mum drives their old car. And they did help out a bit when I got my tumour, but I think that’s so they feel less guilty about me.’

Dan pours Casey a mix of juice and water; his knuckles are white. I guess he’s never met the grandparents. I can’t imagine they’d approve of him deserting their daughter.

‘Some people don’t know how to talk to younger children.’ I’m not sure why I am trying to make excuses for them. ‘So it might improve, now you’re older.’

She shakes her head. ‘Doubt it. My grandma has literally nothing to say to me. She doesn’t have a clue what I’m into, what I’m like.’

I can’t bear the sadness that’s settling on us like drizzle. ‘So what are you into?’ I ask, desperate to change the subject.

‘YouTube. Me and Molly – that’s my best friend – we like watching the makeovers and tutorials. I like meerkat videos too.’ She stops and her deep frown is so like her father’s. ‘I know that sounds lame. But where I live is the most boring place on the planet. There is literally nothing to do. You have to drive for miles to get a Starbucks.’