I shake my head. Matthew’s darkness moved a black cloud over our whole family as we battled to help him, but he refused to talk. He just closed up and said he’d had enough of life. We’ve been on a time bomb of nerves with him ever since, watching his every move. Tom’s return could be enough to tip him over the edge again.

My phone rings, giving us both a welcome distraction until we see who it is.

‘Oh God, you’ll never believe it but it’s Matthew calling me,’ I whisper, wishing I could just run away from all this mess between these two men who I’ve so much feeling for. Could he have found out where I am today?

‘You should answer it,’ says Tom, rubbing his temples. ‘Would it help if I spoke to him?’

I look at the floor. The smell of Guinness is turning my stomach now and the fire is too hot. I can’t answer. I can’t answer Tom and I can’t answer my phone. Matthew leaves me a voicemail message, but I don’t need to listen to it. I know how his moods have been lately. If he’s heard I’m with Tom, he’ll just spit out a rage at me and I can’t cope with what he has to say right now.

Plus, I’m angry at him. I’m so angry that he couldn’t see past his own ego back then, his own big brother macho attitude or his own jealousy that I might have just an inch more talent than he wanted me to have or might stamp on his toes. How dare he make that decision for me when it was none of his business?

I’m angry at Tom now, too. I can’t believe he didn’t stand up to Matthew more and push through with the band when it was all he ever wanted in life and when they were showing so much potential. How petty of them to throw it all away over some jealous row – unless there was more to it than I’m being told?

‘Aren’t you going to call him back?’ Tom asks me and I shake my head.

I feel a bit sick. I don’t want to talk to Matthew right now.

‘I think I need some fresh air,’ I tell him, lifting my coat.

‘Me too.’

He follows me outside and we stand in the slushy snow watching waves crash on a grey foamy sea in the near distance. I shiver, clutching my bag that holds my dress and other bits and pieces from last night, while Tom paces around me, smoking a cigarette and waiting for a reaction. But I can’t give him one right now.