‘Right,’ Sarah said. ‘Just stay in your seats. Mummy and Daddy won’t be long.’

The bell on the cafe door pierced me. Danna, the owner, looked up from her coffee machine. ‘Hey, Chris.’

‘Hey. This is Sarah. Sarah, Danna.’

‘Hi, Sarah.’ Danna smiled, tried not to stare. She knew Biddy, knew about Sarah. ‘What can I get you both?’

‘We’re actually after some food,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you have any sandwiches?’

‘Yeah, sure. What kind?’

‘Just ham,’ I said. ‘No onions or anything. Just really plain.’

Danna turned, started wiping down the chopping board. I was going to throw up. I flicked through a newspaper someone had abandoned, felt my phone buzzing. Zac. A photo of … of Brienne smiling, a plastic straw in her mouth: Guess where I was last night, dude :)

‘Hey, do you mind if I just go wait in the car?’ I said to Sarah. ‘I’m not feeling great.’

‘Big night?’ Danna said, turning to face us, breadknife in hand.

‘Yeah.’ I smiled, winced. ‘Biddy’s closing night.’

‘Oh, I really wanted to see her show. Was it good?’

I nodded, smiled – it hurt – looked at Sarah. ‘Is that OK?’

‘Of course, hun. Go keep the kids company.’

I opened the door – the fucking bell – kept my head down, heard Oliver crying. ‘Hey, mate, what’s up?’ I said, opening his door.

‘He’s stuck,’ Sophie said.

‘What? Oh, right, I see.’ His seatbelt was wrapped round his chest and abdomen in three separate loops, still fastened at the buckle.

‘I can’t breathe,’ he said, crying, eyes wide with terror. ‘It’s too tight, Dadda, get it off.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ I said under my breath. ‘Let’s get this sorted, shall we? Daddy’s good with his hands.’ I leant across him, unclipped the belt, managed to … The belt spooled back into the seat slightly, wouldn’t come out again. ‘Olly, how did this happen?’ I pulled at the belt. ‘You’re completely stuck.’ And your mum’s a fucking idiot. She’s a fucking idiot, Olly, a stupid fucking dimwitted idiot.

‘It’s not my fault,’ he said.

‘Whose fault is it then?’

‘Yours,’ he shouted, sobbing.

‘I wasn’t even here.’

‘He was trying to do a somersault,’ Sophie said.

‘Shut up, you idiot,’ said Oliver. ‘It’s Daddy’s fault I’m stuck.’

‘Don’t speak to your sister like that.’

There was a solution, I just needed to find it. Every time I loosened the belt it retracted further and wouldn’t come back out, so obviously … ‘OK, buddy, can you lift yourself up a little bit? Hang on.’ I wedged a hand between his thighs and his booster seat, started lifting him, tried to push the seat out of – ‘Right. That’s it. I just need you to wriggle forwards, mate, can you do that? Yeah, now, can you slide down a bit?’

‘I can’t,’ he shouted. ‘It’s too tight, Dadda. I’m dying.’