‘Dad, please. I don’t need a matchmaker. What were you thinking asking him in without me knowing? What if I’d come down in my underwear, or just a towel? I’d have been mortified.’

He blinked at her, clearly confused. ‘I was just thinking it’s about time you got yourself a husband and a couple of kids, you’re not getting any younger, and I won’t be around forever, Shelly love. I’m afraid you’ll be all by yourself here.’

‘Aww, you’re worried I’ll end up a lonely old spinster? Dad, you’re really sweet. But times have changed. There’s nothing wrong with not marrying, or living alone. Us women are in control of our lives and careers these days.’

‘But what about . . .’ He appeared to be struggling for the right word.

She smiled. ‘If I want company, Dad, I can go into any pub and snap my fingers. Honestly, you don’t have to worry about me.’

He stared at her, processing what he’d heard. ‘I think you’ve done a wonderful job getting yourself through university, taking care of me and setting up the surgery. Your mother would be as proud as I am.’ Then, he blurted as an afterthought, ‘But what about me grandchildren? I’m not blind to the fact that time’s running out.’

They stared at each other for a moment, both saddened and confused by the series of thoughts, words, and memories that lunged from the past. Shelly’s anger rose and she had to turn away from him before she said something she knew she would always regret. How could he forget? It was his fault he didn’t have grandchildren around! She stared out of the window lost in her rising feelings. ‘Dad . . .’

‘No, wait, Shelly love, I’ve got to say this. I think about it every day and it’s been too many years. But I could never get the words said. Help me out by keeping your back turned, and don’t speak till I’ve finished.’

There was a sickening silence while she sensed his emotional struggle. She heard him sigh, then realised she could see his reflection quite clearly in the glass.

‘Shelly, what I did after your mother died was wrong. I want to say, I’m really sorry, and I’ve regretted it for decades. My only excuse is that I think I had some kind of breakdown.’

She watched his reflection. He dragged a big white handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face before he continued. ‘What I did, making you give DJ up after your mother died, well, I could have handled it better. I want to say how sorry I am for all the hurt I caused you . . . and I’ve been trying lately, you know, to be nicer.’ He blew his nose noisily. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’