‘You can stay a bit longer, can’t you?’ Biddy said – to us both, nominally, but mainly, I had to assume, to me.

‘I can’t.’ I edged forwards on the sofa. ‘I should have gone hours ago.’

Her hand on my thigh. It was always difficult. But on Jose Cuervo Especial, on the eve of Biddy’s mini-break to Tasmania, with Zac watching our every move so he could give a full and frank account of proceedings to Sarah …

‘Just a bit longer?’ Biddy asked. ‘Please.’

‘Maybe just five minutes,’ I said. ‘But then I need to go. I’m sorry. The kids …’

‘The kids, yeah.’ She fell back into the sofa, looked sad.

‘You knew I couldn’t stay, Biddy. I told you that when I arrived.’

‘What time’s it?’ Zac said.

‘Half past four,’ I said.

‘I’m leaving in a couple of hours,’ Biddy said. ‘Can you just stay here till I get in the Uber?’

‘Sorry.’ I made to stand, my head, oh, quick breathing, breathe. The kids …

‘You have priorities, and I’m not one of them.’ She looked away, at the garage door. ‘It’s fine, I get it.’

I stood in front of her, watched her not watching me. ‘They’re my kids, Biddy.’

No response. Did she have to do this here? Now? In full view of Zac?

‘I suppose you’d better go then.’

Fucking hell – I was being guilted for aspiring to be a responsible parent. Should I die, maybe? Would that make everyone happy?

Zac moped his way from the crack den to the kitchen, was probably taking notes on his phone.

‘OK, so …’ I said.

‘Can we at least hug?’

Fucking hell. I crouched, put my arms around her. She gripped hard, I gripped hard.

‘OK,’ I said, trying to pull away.

‘Just a bit longer?’

‘OK.’ I loosened my grip, squeezed again. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you, Chris. So much. You know this is really hard for me, yeah? Our relationship.’

‘Yeah.’

I walked home with Zac, pushing my bike as quickly as I could, missing Biddy, disliking Biddy, wanting to be back in her arms, to start again, my whole life, just start again.

‘So, Sarah might have mentioned I’ve been pretty down,’ Zac said.

She hadn’t. ‘Yeah, she did.’

‘Pretty dark thoughts, dude.’

That was fine. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘You ever get those?’

All the time. ‘Not really.’

‘Scary stuff, right?’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

‘Do you think you’d ever do it? Take your own life?’

I opened the gate, the front door, didn’t want to speak to him, to anyone, waved him into the living room, to the couch, and then –

What felt like three seconds later, I woke to my phone: a selfie from Biddy – she was at the airport, looked fresh and smiley, how the …

Sarah was showering, hadn’t woken me. I sank my face into her pillow, inhaled.