‘Wow.’

IRL it’s even more amazing than the Facebook photos. We’re in this gigantic room with a massive L-shaped black leather sofa, metal beams holding up the ceiling and windows that span the entire wall, with a huge balcony beyond that. I step forward. What a view! Shops, ships, people. From his sofa I could see more life in a day than I’ve seen in the previous twelve years.

‘Like it?’ my father says, sounding worried. ‘Go ahead, open up the doors.’

Mum’s saying something about pollutants, but I zone out as I step onto the balcony and the city’s warmth hugs my whole body. Down there, the harbour explodes with colour and I want to climb over the glass edges of the terrace and shimmy down to the waterside. To freedom.

My head spins with all the feels. Happiness and excitement and, yeah, a bit of fear. But right now, on this terrace, it’s like I’m on the edge of the biggest adventure of my entire life.

Chapter 4: Dan

She stands with her back to us, taking in the view.

My daughter.

When the lift doors opened and I saw her face, I couldn’t speak. She looked so much like the one photo I have of my mum as a young girl.

Angelica marches over to the edge of the terrace. ‘That’s enough, Casey. It’s not a good idea for you to spend too long outdoors; you’re not used to such poor air quality.’ I hear the criticism – of me, of my adopted city – in her voice, but also her concern for her daughter.

Casey turns round and the familiarity of her face shocks me again. Of course I’ve chatted to her twice on video. But the first time she used digital rabbit ears, and the second she hid her features behind showers of sparkling hearts.

Angelica warned me not to say anything about her plump cheeks – that’s the steroids – or the fact that Casey is small for twelve – they think that might be the tumour delaying her growth. But what I notice most is how pretty Casey is, with my eyes and Angelica’s smooth skin and long blonde hair.

‘This place is amazing. It is giving me all the feels,’ Casey says. Her soft Midlands accent reminds me of her mother’s when we first met. The music is amazing. Glastonbury is amazing.

Angelica was amazing too.

‘Hmm. If I’d known this was how you live, I’d have asked for more child support over the years,’ Angelica says, and though her voice is light, as though she’s joking, her pale eyes are glacier-cold. What happened to her?

Stupid question: I know exactly what happened to her, and who is to blame.

‘I only moved in very recently.’ Should I say tell them it’s Vijay’s place, get it out of the way? Ugh! Not now. Things are awkward enough already.

‘Lucky you.’ She turns round to inspect the iron units that line the brick wall, then runs her finger along the rungs of the ladder to the mezzanine. She frowns, like she’s pissed off there’s no dust. I used half a pack of antibacterial wipes on that.