‘You can do it, Sid,’ Brendan said. He was still standing out near the edge. Not an ounce of fear. ‘It’s easy. You want me to show you?’

‘I just want to get down,’ Sidney said.

‘Are you crying?’

‘Shut up!’

‘You just gotta jump, Sid. Nothing magic to it. You just gotta grow a set of balls.’

And without further comment his brother jumped backwards into the air. Sidney gasped as he hurtled towards the rocks below. It seemed as though he’d strike them and his blood would be strewn all over his friends, but instead he slid, like that graceful needle, into the deep water. He soon came up smiling and kicking on his back.

Sidney stayed where he was, enduring the jeering of his brother’s friends until they grew tired of the sport. Only then did he struggle his way down.

In her crib his daughter with one arm up. He remembered when she’d needed a dummy to fall asleep. Not any longer. Just her kangaroo now, a soft toy he’d bought her on a whim, tucked in next to her, held by her chubby left fist. Seemed there was a lot of strength in that grip. He marvelled at it, how she pulled his beard so hard it made him wince, and he had to pry those little fingers free. How she clung to him whenever she was afraid.

He touched her arms, the soft skin, the whispery hair. Leaning over, he kissed her gently on her brow and whispered that he loved her, that she was special, that he would always love her. Barely any force behind his words. Just a breath.

As he straightened he heard his wife’s voice in the doorway. ‘What do you say to her?’

‘Just telling her I love her.’

‘You don’t tell me that.’

He turned to her. She had just showered and her hair was all wet. It shone under the lightbulb. ‘Come here.’

‘No, I don’t want you telling me ’cause I asked.’

‘I do love you,’ he said. ‘You know that.’

‘I know,’ she said, and shuffled her foot on the carpet.

‘Come here.’

‘No.’

He walked to her, leaned over and whispered into her ear, ‘I want a sandwich.’

‘You arsehole,’ she said, laughing. She shoved him gently. ‘Come on, I’ll get you something before you go.’

His mother was seated at the kitchen table before a bowl of porridge spread too thick with honey. Always struck Sidney as weird how she ate porridge at night. She was tiny in contrast with the size of the room, the size of the table. A marvel such a woman had borne somebody as huge as Brendan. She smiled at Sidney as he walked in.

‘You heading out, sweetheart?’

‘He is,’ Sarah answered for him. ‘I’m just making him something.’

As Sarah opened the fridge Brendan crashed into Sidney from behind, shoving him forwards, making him collide with the fridge door. Sarah yelled out and shoved back.