‘And Matthew?’ he asks, unable to look me in the eye when he mentions my brother’s name. ‘What’s he up to these days?’

My stomach flips. I suppose we should just get this part over and done with.

‘He’s living back at home with my parents,’ I tell him, feeling my brow break into a frown at the thought of what has become of Matthew. ‘They’re looking after him as well as they can, but it’s been hard on everyone. It’s been so hard on us all watching him lose interest in everything he worked so hard for.’

Tom lets out a deep sigh that sounds a lot like regret.

‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ he says.

It’s not Tom’s fault. It’s no one’s fault that this darkness has got such a grasp of my once so flamboyant big brother who was always bursting with life and energy, convinced that the sky was the limit when it came to chasing his dreams.

‘He’s got a job in the little corner shop, which takes his mind off his troubles a little,’ I continue. ‘Not exactly the architect or big star he dreamed of becoming, but it gives him a purpose and that’s what we all need, isn’t it? We need something to get out of bed for in the morning.’

I draw imaginary circles on his arm as I speak.

‘Are your parents still living further up north?’ Tom’s face reflects mine as he looks back at me with such a sense of pity. I remember hearing how he visited my home once with Matthew, and of how my mother had rolled out the red carpet as if it was The Beatles coming to visit.

Their band, Déjà Vu, had been offered a record deal at the time with a small label in Belfast and had popped by to see our folks en route to a meeting, which to Mam and Dad was like winning the lottery.

‘Yes, they’re still up in the little village we grew up in, which suits him, away from the city and all his reasons for giving up on everything,’ I tell Tom. Whatever happened between you guys, it shook him. I don’t think he ever got over it.’

Tom wears a deep frown and pinches his eyes.

‘How much do you know, Charlie?’ he asks me. ‘What did Tom tell you about why we all broke up?

They’d been going so well. Marketing plans were being discussed, recording studios lined up, even a fairly decent local tour all backed up by a label who believed in them and were just about to sign them up, but suddenly it was all over. It all went pear-shaped so quickly.

I lean up on one elbow now, mirroring him and take his hand from his face, holding it for reassurance.