I carried Sarah’s birthday teapot and cups through, crouched down carefully, put them on the carpet where nobody would kick them or fall on them. ‘It’ll be here in six minutes, man. That should still get you there on time.’

‘Thanks.’ He tied his shoelaces. ‘I don’t even know what happens if I’m late.’

‘The electric chair.’ I crouched again, poured his oolong.

Sarah appeared at the living-room door in her dressing-gown, smiled. ‘You’re still here, Zac?’

‘Just waiting for the Uber. I slept in.’

‘Oolong?’ I said, holding up the teapot.

‘Yeah, why not.’

‘Mummy, breakfast,’ Oliver said, coming into the living room, hugging Sarah’s thighs. Sophie appeared. ‘Can you get us some food?’

Fucking … ‘I’m already getting your breakfast,’ I said. ‘We’re just saying goodbye to Zac. He’s going away now on his business trip.’

‘We already know that,’ Oliver said.

‘Yeah, Daddy, it’s so obvious,’ Sophie said.

If only he’d been guilty. Their guardian and friend was being locked up for stealing – the moral of that story was clear. But their guardian going down for not stealing – I’d conceded it was bonkers, that we had to lie.

‘Te quiero,’ Zac said, hugging Sophie. ‘Mucho mucho. You be a good girl for Mummy and Daddy.’

‘Your turn, Olly,’ I said, pointing at Zac. ‘Hurry, he has to go.’

‘Love you, Zac,’ he mumbled, coming forwards, limp.

Zac curled over him, squeezed. ‘I’ll miss you, mate. You take care.’

My phone. ‘That’s your driver. Enjoy your trip, man. Hope it’s everything you want it to be. Oh, hang on …’

He’d asked Sarah and me to pick books for him to read in prison. Josh had given him Awaken the Giant Within, Mel The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Sarah had bought him The Essential Rumi, said she hoped it brought him serenity, ommm. I’d sweated over my choice, wanted to get him something from Uruguay, a taste of home, had spent an hour itchily back-and-forthing in Readings before rage-quitting and getting a Moleskine notebook, a couple of pencils.

I gave him the bag. ‘There.’

He nodded. ‘Thanks again, dude.’

‘Bye, Zac,’ Sarah said, leaning in for a hug, kissing his cheek, holding … yeah, ha, she was really prolonging that hug, really stretching it out. ‘You’ll phone, yeah?’

‘Yeah, but only on Wednesdays between six and eight in the evening, apparently.’ He squeezed her one last time, released. ‘But don’t worry if I don’t.’ He looked at Sophie and Oliver, back at Sarah, winked. ‘As I’ve said, my, um, boss is a bit funny about phone calls – she only lets me make them if she can see I’m in a good mood. I’ll see you all in four weeks, just in time for Christmas.’

His eyes were moist, Sarah’s too. Sophie and Oliver were kneeling on the floor with the iPad.