OK, next Christmas, when Dad starts telling us about his trip again, I am so going to lap up every word.

“But why couldn’t Brent sort out his own life a bit better?” I venture. “I mean, if he was so wise and everything?”

A strange, melancholy expression passes over Dad’s face.

“Not so easy when it’s your own life. He knew he drank too much, even then, although he hid it. I tried to talk to him about it, but…” His hands fall to his lap. “We were young. What did I know about alcoholism?” He looks so downcast. “What a waste.”

There’s a kind of sober little silence. This is such a sad story. And I’m feeling like Dad now. I’m burning with righteous indignation. I want to sort everything out for Brent and crush that vile Corey.

“But I’m not sure where to go from here.” Dad rubs his eyes wearily. “If I can’t get access to Corey…”

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t meet up with you,” I say hotly. “His old friend.”

“He’s built a fortress around himself,” says Dad with a shrug. “Gates, guards, dogs…”

“We only got in because they were holding a children’s birthday party and thought we were guests,” I tell him.

“You did well, love,” says Dad wryly. “I didn’t even manage to get through on the phone.”

“We met his new wife and everything. She actually seems lovely.”

“From what I hear, she’s very sweet-natured.” Dad nods. “I thought perhaps I could get at Corey through her. But Corey controls her. He wants to know where she is at all times, reads her correspondence….” He sips his drink. “I tried to get a meeting with her, after I’d failed with Corey. She emailed back and said it wasn’t possible and not to contact her again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Corey sent the email.”

“Oh, Dad,” I say with sympathy.

“Oh, that wasn’t the worst! I even stood outside the house and called out as they drove away in their Bugatti. Waved my arms, shouted…but no joy.”

I feel a surge of fresh fury at Corey. How dare he demean my dad like that?

“If Brent only knew how much you were doing on his behalf,” I say. “Do you think he has any idea?”

“I doubt it,” says Dad with a rueful chuckle. “I mean, he knew I wanted to help. But I don’t expect he imagined I’d end up on such an escapade—”

He stops at the sound of clicking beads. Something weird passes over his face and he blinks several times. At once I turn to see what it is—and freeze dead.

No way. No way.

It’s all happening! The box-set plot is unfolding before my eyes. It’s like a whole new season is kicking off.

Season 2, Episode 1: Forty-something years later, in a hotel in Sedona, Arizona, Graham Bloomwood and Rebecca Miades finally come face-to-face again.

She’s standing at the beaded curtain, curling a strand of long, dyed-red hair round one finger. She has lots of amber eye shadow round her green eyes, too much kohl, and a long floaty skirt in burgundy. Her matching top is low-cut, displaying lots of cleavage. Her nails are painted black, and she has a henna tattoo snaking up her arm. She looks at Dad and says nothing but smiles slowly in recognition, her eyes crinkling up like a cat’s.