‘And just in case you’re wondering, she’s OK. About you, I mean. But I’d just . . .’ Wolfie trailed off. ‘Look, to be honest I only told her today, when Dom rang to say you guys were coming.’ For the first time since we’d got there, she looked me in the eye. ‘So, I don’t know, maybe just go easy or something, yeah?’

If Dom and George hadn’t already been halfway up the stairs, I’d have been out of there like a shot after that bombshell. Probably heading in the direction of the cosy little pub we’d passed on the corner for a quiet regrouping pint. Because while the information that Lou had only had an hour to get used to the idea of me showing up was one thing, it was the go easy comment that really got me. What kind of man did my niece take me for if she thought there was a chance I’d kick an injured woman when she was down? Even if she apparently did look worse than she felt. The one positive was that surely the only way Wolfie’s estimation of me could go after that was up.

‘Go easy. Got it. I mean, right you are. I will.’

She paused, a bit too long for my liking, but then stepped back to let me pass. My escape route slammed shut behind us.

Wolfie took the stairs two by two, and had already opened the door of the flat and dropped the key back under the mat by the time the rest of us got up there. Dom and I exchanged a glance at the lax security, but maybe they were all just one big happy family in this building. I hesitated a couple of steps in; sunlight was streaming into the flat through a huge window at the end of the short hallway and it created a disorienting whiteout effect.

‘Where’s your room, Wolfie? Can I see it? Where’s your mum?’

George charged past, and Dom nudged me gently forward just as a passing cloud brought the room into view. It was small and crowded, with matching bookcases on either side of the TV, three framed prints of the Kew Gardens glasshouse interiors on the wall, and a sofa that was barely visible under a huge pile of crumpled washing. George and Wolfie were already over by the window and a moving car out on the street caught my eye, fast and blue. When I looked back to the room, there she was.

I could see why I’d missed her. She blended almost seamlessly into the pile of laundry on the sofa, every bit as still as the towels and socks, silhouetted against the backlit window. I blinked a few times and her face came into focus. Quick as you like, those sixteen years, two months and – you’d better believe I’d worked it out – three weeks that had been hiding behind a door in the universe, waiting to jump out and scare me, took their shot. Mission accomplished, well done you.