‘I don’t know, George, probably. You’d have to ask her.’

‘Wasn’t Wolfie’s jacket cool? Can I get a leather jacket, Dad?’

‘No, George, I don’t think a leather jacket is appropriate clothing for a six-year-old.’

‘Is so. Can I get a Bob Dylan T-shirt then? What’s appropriate mean?’

But Dom’s Dom and it’s not for nothing he has a flourishing cosmetic surgery practice, takes his summer holidays in Tuscany, and isn’t going to have to worry about money for the rest of his life. He’s strategic. He knows when to hold ’em, when to fold ’em and, most importantly, when to play his hand to perfection. He waited until George was peaking, which is always only a bit of lively banter away, then he threw down an ace.

‘Dad, when’s Wolfie coming back? She’s cool, is she coming back soon? Can we go to her place? Why doesn’t Danny want to go and see her mum, anyway?’

‘Well yes, George, Wolfie is very cool, although I’m not sure when she’s coming back and you’re going to have to take the rest of your issues up with Danny.’ Dom, you lovely sneaky sod.

Of course, I should have come clean the night Wolfie showed up and nipped it in the bud right then. Explained to Dom that he couldn’t possibly have my back this time, no matter how good his intentions, because he didn’t know the full story. No more than an extremely very little part of it. I’d told him early on that I had a sister and he knew we didn’t see each other, but aside from one year on the anniversary of my father’s death when I drank too much dessert wine and (apparently) told them how much I missed her, I’d always managed to shut down any attempts by him or Kath to get me to elaborate on the situation, and eventually they’d stopped trying.

Not long after I came to stay at Dom’s, he told me that when Gentleman and I moved in it had felt like he’d given George a family again, and then he cried. I cried too, but mostly because of what an inadequate substitute I was for the best wife and mother that ever walked the planet. So I always worried that if Dom actually did know the full story about me and Lou, he might consider whether his old mate Danny Mulberry was quite the man he thought, and I really didn’t have the heart for that.

Anyway, I didn’t stand a chance once George unleashed on me, exactly as I have no doubt Dom had planned it all along. Every reason, argument, lie and diversion I could think up was shot down by our pint-sized general and his furry lieutenant, and in a head-spinningly short time, I’d found myself agreeing to face up to the thing I’ve been running away from since I was twenty something. The good old proverbial, should bloody stay where it belongs, past. In principle only, though, no firm plans. I won that point.