Dad’s confession has floored me. I want to cry for him. I want to stand on this street and weep for my father. He has never told me this. He is telling me secrets from deep down inside of him, when I have failed to reveal mine. He is starting to forget, when I remember everything but cannot put my worst memories into words.

I am still clinging on to his arm. A man in security uniform walks round us and disappears into the mouth of the Shard.

‘You know, there are some things I’ll never forget,’ says Dad. ‘Never in my life. And two of those are yours and Angela’s faces when you were born.’

I attempt a laugh. ‘Well, you would hardly forget mine, would you? I bet the massive birthmark was quite a surprise!’

‘I’m not talking about that,’ says Dad. ‘Angela was all scrunched up, yelling at the world, making herself heard. You were quiet, after an initial yell. You just looked and looked – your eyes huge, as though you were saying, “OK, well, this is where I am now, is it?”’

‘Did I already look pissed off?’

‘No! You looked serene, all knowing.’

‘I’m so glad you can’t see me now.’

‘Stop it, Prue. I don’t need to see you. Seeing is not knowing. What you say and how you say it, how your personality is, that’s more important than how you look.’

‘But my personality is terrible,’ I say, only half teasing (I won’t mention Angela’s).

‘You’re crazy, aren’t you?’ says Dad. ‘You are a loving woman with a big heart. You have a lot of love to give and deserve to receive a lot of love in return. You just need to see that. You just need to see you can be happy.’

I have no answer to this. I think of Salvi. Is he someone who I could love and maybe have him love me in return? Is he my happiness, waiting at the end of the tunnel? I’ve never thought I deserve love. Not from my mother or my sister or from any man out there. Only from my father.

‘Actually, I’m glad I can’t see you,’ continues Dad, ‘as I know you’ll have that look on your face right now that you had when you were a little girl. Cross and obstinate and disbelieving.’

‘Maybe,’ I say, although I know I am not looking like that. I’m sure, if I saw myself, that I would be looking a tiny bit hopeful.

‘You were lovely as a child and you are lovely now,’ he says softly. ‘And that’s the end of it.’