It’s the first time he’s mentioned doing anything at all with his father, so it must be a very special memory.

‘It was freezing, with a wind as biting as the one tonight. He was reasonably sober that night, not wanting to let himself down in front of the other men. It was when he was still functioning, on his good days, that is. As we headed out, he started to talk about the past for some reason. When I was a small boy, he often took me out exploring and it was strange, hearing him talk about that with a genuine fondness. I realised then that he harboured a real sense of regret for what might have been. The life he could have had, I suppose, if he’d gotten his demons under control.’

Nico lays his head back against the wall, one leg out straight in front of him and the other bent. His arm rests on his knee, holding his wine glass. He’s deep in thought, and not wishing to disturb him I say nothing but turn my head, looking up towards the heavens.

And then I see it.

‘A shooting star!’ I yell, and he jumps, spilling wine down the leg of his jeans and laughing at me. ‘Did you see it, too?’ I ask, hoping he did.

His smile is broad. ‘I caught it. Make a wish, quickly – but don’t tell me what it is.’

I smile, nodding. The words were on my lips the moment I first saw that little flash of light making a perfect arc against the almost pitch-black sky. Keep everyone safe and take us where we are meant to be.

‘I’m not sure I believe in that,’ I admit. ‘But you never know, I suppose.’

‘Do wishes ever come true? For most of my childhood and teenage life, all I longed for was that my mother would feel a sense of peace. When my father died, I thought her life would be easier, but she crumbled, a lonely and disappointed woman who felt an acute sense of having failed. Looking after him had become the driving factor which kept her going; it was all about getting through each day as best she could. Suddenly, there was this emptiness, a void she told me. I thought that was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. How can you miss someone who was so selfish and abusive? Someone who stole her life, like a thief.’

It’s incredible to think a parent would put their child through something like that, let alone a partner.

‘You must have missed her when she returned to Spain,’ I remark. My voice is low as I monitor Nico’s reaction. He wrinkles his brow, staring down into his glass.