‘Don’t worry about it though, Danny, honestly. It doesn’t matter because you didn’t really lose me, did you? You just let me go for a minute, that’s all.’

It felt like a couple of hours, but my sensible head tells me it was more likely that only a couple of minutes passed while we basked in our own thoughts. I was mostly replaying Lou’s last sentence, but those Hobnob Happy Pies definitely made an appearance too. It was probably them that lulled me off guard.

‘Danny, can we talk about something?’

Aha, so here it is, I thought with a lurch. That’s what that look had been. Because she’s smart, my sister, always was. Hit ’em with the old one-two. You didn’t lose me, but you lost me. It doesn’t matter, but it matters. You’re an angel, you’re an arsehole. Maybe she couldn’t remember the first time I lost her, but she could sure as hell remember the second, and here’s where I get my comeuppance. You watching, Ray?

I straightened the letters on my lap and wondered what those people would think if they knew what I’d said, what I’d done. Who I really was. Because the thing was, when I searched my brain for the sage words to offer comfort, a shoulder to cry on, some kind-hearted wisdom, it was weird that sometimes I had to remind myself I was only a fraud. Because I felt like I might be doing OK.

I didn’t hold out much hope that anything I said to Lou would be able to excuse a sixteen-year absence and half a lifetime of bad behaviour, but I did know a thing or two about getting on the front foot, thanks to Phil Tufnell and Co. Deep breath and batter up, Mulberry.

I’d hesitated a split second too long, though, and isn’t that just the story of my life. My sister gestured to her legs. ‘It’s just I really want . . . I need to tell you something. About all this.’

The leg cast was looking quite a bit the worse for wear these days. The plaster was fraying in places and there were tufts of cotton-wool wadding sticking out around her toes. The artwork was also getting more and more prolific by the day. Underneath Wolfie’s impressive abstract doodles and skull and crossbones, George had contributed To infitiny and beyond, and Dom’s neatly printed Rise up and walk (but only when you’re ready) was now offset by an extra smiley smiley face. My pathetic Get well soon, which I’d finally scrawled self-consciously one day after I’d finished changing her dressings, looked woefully inadequate.

But what did Lou need to tell me about the cast? Did she want me to have another go at some artwork? This time with effort, Danny! Did she need me to expand my medical skills and check on the fracture? Had I missed something while I was so focused on the other leg?

‘I haven’t been entirely honest about things. Not even to Wolfie. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t tell you at first because I . . . well, I couldn’t really think about it myself for a while. But then when I could, it never seemed like the right time. And so I just didn’t.’ Lou splayed her hands and shrugged. ‘But Dom says . . . Well, he thinks I should. And I think maybe I can, now.’