‘Let’s get you out, sweetheart.’ I hoisted her, water dripping from her elbows and knees, stood her on the bath mat, wrapped her in a towel, knelt in front of her to dry her hair. She was shivering, blue lips. I got the hairdryer from under the sink, plugged it in, switched it on …

‘Is Zac coming over?’ she said, teeth chattering, goosebumps.

‘Oh, maybe … I don’t know.’ I held her hair up, blasted it.

Valentino clearly wasn’t interested anymore. I’d danced with Sarah to his set, watched him posing behind his decks and not watching her, knowing she wanted him and not me. I’d told her I was going to the bathroom but slouched off to the garden instead. I sat next to some strangers under the outdoor heaters, watched people getting in and out of the hot tub talking about the winter solstice, thought about Biddy, tried to look like I was having a good time and didn’t under any circumstances want company. An hour later, Sarah found me smoking a joint by the rosemary bushes. She said, ‘There you are, spunkrocket,’ and told me she had a strong sexual connection with a man called Mick.

‘Just hold still,’ I said to Sophie. ‘Your hair’s all knotted, sweetheart.’ I reached to the sink for the comb.

She winced. ‘Can we just leave the knots, Daddy?’

‘I need to get them out, sweetheart, hang on.’ I kissed her head, pulled the comb carefully through the matted locks.

It wasn’t the first time Sarah had told me she wanted to be with another man while I was topping out on artificial stimulants. She’d said the same about Nikau a few weeks after their affair, so I knew what to do. A big fake grin. Smile, everyone! Cheese!

He’d rattled her world in the most beautiful way. How she felt about herself afterwards was in total opposition to how she’d felt previously. He’d sung her a Polynesian song about lovers whose paths crossed briefly then diverged. I’d told her to make her choice: Nikau or me.

‘I like Zac,’ Sophie said.

‘Yeah. And I like you. I think you’re incredible.’

‘What does that mean, Daddy?’

I angled the hairdryer away from her, got to my knees, pulled the towel round her more tightly – my burrito love – held her close to my chest, squeezed, inhaled. ‘It means –’

A cough, a sore one. I stayed on my knees, continued combing, drying.

Sarah had pointed to Mick on the dancefloor. What, him? Wasn’t I better looking? She wanted to … what? To fuck him? Would she like me to go introduce myself? What? Oh, Chris, that was a bit weird, she … Yes, OK, go ahead, hun, if that’s what you want to do. She needed to go get some water anyway.