‘Roland!’ Tom said. ‘You have to be gentle! You can’t twist her into the seat!’

Roland backed away, his hands up. ‘I’m sorry. I’m new to this.’

Tom pushed past him and buckled Jo in. ‘Forget it. I’ll see you later.’

He climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. Roland walked into the house, his head bowed.

‘Fuck it,’ Tom said. ‘The sooner this day is over, the better.’

Alice was at home when he returned. She was watching a wildlife documentary, a mug of herbal tea in her hand.

He sat next to her. Jo was asleep and he rested her on his chest.

The tension was thick. He glanced at her, but her eyes were fixed on the screen.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk. Me first. I’m sorry. I was tired and grumpy, and I shouldn’t have snapped.’

She muted the TV.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry too. How was the pub?’

‘You know. Fine. Kay OK?’ It was a joke he made every time he asked about Kay. Alice rolled her eyes.

‘She’s good.’

‘I saw Mum. And Roland. He nearly dislocated Jo’s arm putting her in the car seat.’

Alice sat up in alarm. ‘Really? What happened?’

‘It was an accident. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But it made me think. What if he had a similar accident, when Jo was at Mum and Dad’s?’

Alice nodded. ‘It’s not impossible.’

‘No. That’s what worries me.’

‘You think he bruised her?’

‘Not deliberately. I think he may have tried to pick her up and nearly dropped her and then held her too tightly.’

Alice pursed her lips. ‘You need to talk to him.’

‘He’ll think I’m accusing him.’

‘You’ll have to be sensitive.’

‘Great. My strong point.’

Alice sipped her tea. ‘Since we’re on the topic of Roland, why don’t you finish the story? You never told me the end.’

‘OK,’ Tom said. ‘Strap yourself in.’

Summer, 2012

Tom

I’d found the watch he’d asked for – a rectangular gold thing he’d somehow ended up with – and so a week after the gig – if you could call it that – I was standing in a dimly lit corridor outside the door to his flat. No one had answered my knock; then again it was before midday and even I was not naïve enough to think they’d all be up at the crack of dawn. Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise: true as they may be, these were not words that my brother lived his life by.