‘Thank you, love, I appreciate that.’ It’s hard to read my father’s expression when his feelings are not reflected in his eyes. I can’t see hurt in them now, for example, but I know that hurt is there. We keep walking. ‘Sometimes I don’t know if I’m more sad or angry about it, you know?’ he says, and I am surprised, as he has never said anything like this to me before, either. ‘I came so close to being an architect. I was qualified. I was ready. And then it all just slipped away. So easily. Maybe I let it slip away so easily—’

I jump in, feet first. ‘It’s not necessarily all over for you, you know. You could still do something, in architecture. Consultancy or research or teaching or—’

‘What are you talking about?’ He is angry, I think. ‘You’re not going to go on about that architect in Hawaii again, are you – that John somebody?’

‘John Harrison Burrows,’ I say weakly.

‘I’m blind, Prue. I went blind a long time ago and the opportunities to do any of the stuff you’re talking about also went a long time ago. I gave up, you know. I realize that. And I’m sixty-four. Like in The Beatles song.’ I think of my mother; she would also be sixty-four. Does Dad think of that, too? ‘I’m too old for anything. And I don’t bloody live in Hawaii!’

‘Norman Foster is over eighty.’

‘Norman Foster is not blind and has been an architect for six decades! There is absolutely no comparison!’

‘I know, sorry. I’m just saying. I’m just saying it’s never too late, Dad.’

‘Does that also apply to you?’

I fall silent. Dad does, too. We’re on the final escalator up to street level. Near the top, he sighs, then in a voice so quiet I can barely hear him, he says, ‘You know, if anyone should be sorry, it should be me.’

‘Whatever for? Careful, Dad, we’re at the top of the escalator. Step off – now – that’s it.’

He retakes my arm.

‘For going blind in the first place. For jabbering on like the young excited idiot I was and walking straight into that metal beam.’

‘A metal beam that shouldn’t have been there! A metal beam that defied all safety regulations. That was in breach of about a million things. It was an accident. An on-site contravention. You remember what they said in the compensation case! Don’t blame yourself.’

‘Oh, but I do,’ he says. ‘I do. I couldn’t afford to go blind! Your mother had left, I was a single father – it was the stupidest thing that could ever have happened. And because of it I’ve brought you down, over all these years, and Angela’s not here.’