He was going to do the right thing.

Dom glanced over at Wolfie, and the look that passed between them definitely didn’t include me; in fact, he appeared to be avoiding any and all eye contact with me. All that murmuring in the kitchen, that kindness and goodness and big-heartedness; Damn you, Dom, you glorious bastard. I wondered if I could make it to the window before he said it. Step out of my shoes and be gone before he even opened his mouth.

‘Danny’s family to us, me and George. So as far as I’m concerned, you and Wolfie are too, now. I’ve suggested something to Wolfie and I . . . Well, I think you should consider it.’ The distant pounding in my ears started to get louder. ‘I’d like you both to come and stay at my place so you can recuperate, or rest or whatever you want to call it. To heal, I guess. You shouldn’t have to cope here on your own, and Wolfie’s got school to consider and . . . Well, I think it’d be a lot easier on both of you, just for a while. Or as long as you like.’

It definitely served me right, of course. For not trusting my best friend with the truth, the whole truth or even a tiny bit of the truth about my family when I’d had a million chances. But I hadn’t, and so I’m ashamed to say that, for the first time in our thirteen-year friendship, right then I could happily have popped Dom right in his ironically symmetrical nose. Because I might have made it through a few cups of tea and a bit of laundry, but having the past move in under the same roof meant it was going to take some avoiding. Although, in fairness, Dom’s roof was his to do with what he liked, and I wasn’t even officially under it myself.

Lou didn’t say anything for a long time. She kept her eyes down and picked at the chunks of cotton wool poking out of the top of her cast. Several small tufts at first, then a large bit that kept on coming. She seemed to think twice about that one and tucked it back in, carefully, neatly, like it had never happened. Like I wished Dom could reach out and tuck those words he’d just said back down, and we could all say our goodbyes and go home.

‘Wolfie? Is this what you want? Has all this . . .’ Lou waved her hand at her legs and around the flat. ‘Has it been too much for you? I know I’m . . . it’s . . . is it too hard on you?’

Even as the words left Lou’s mouth, Wolfie was across the room.

‘No! No. It’s fine. It’s been fine. I’m OK, it’s . . . fine.’ She perched on the arm of the sofa and her eyes flicked over to Dom. She looked as guilty as hell, like she’d been found out for whatever they’d been cooking up out there in the kitchen, which had clearly been more than tea. Then – and it was so slight that anyone who wasn’t his best mate would have missed it – Dom gave her a nod that almost wasn’t. An unspoken, unsaid assurance. Go ahead. I’ve got your back.