He feels for my hand and I take his – like a lifeline – and hold it tight, then he slips it from me and holds his arms out, as best he can, with the cane, and, in front of the Shard, as bemused and smiling pedestrians goldfish around us and restrain from saying ‘Bless you’, we hug. We haven’t hugged for a very long time. I need this hug. Maybe he does, too. I hang on to my dad for dear life, here on the street, and it is a dear life we have been given, if we choose to see it, and we should make the most of it, while we are here, and not waste it sitting silently in the dark, with our eyes closed.

Eventually, Dad laughs, in my ear, a laugh of relief and of a little joy, I hope, and I laugh too and he takes my elbow and rights his cane and we set off again around the perimeter of the Shard, in the summer sun.

CHAPTER 26

‘I left my sunglasses.’

Kemp is at the door this morning. I’ve just seen him from the window – Converse, jeans and a white T-shirt, standing on the pavement, hands in his back pockets – and now I am at the door I am continuing to ignore how the sight of him makes me feel, as I can’t even begin to qualify it. Nostalgia, probably. Muscle memory for the potential of us, long expired? I expect so. I shouldn’t get this slight jolt to the heart when I see him, I shouldn’t be immediately remembering how he once made me feel. For goodness’ sake, I have the memory of a hot man’s warm lips on me that is mere days old and the excitement of an upcoming lunch date! I should be sticking to those things like a bloody limpet and nothing should be jolting.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come back for them.’

‘They’re my varifocal ones,’ he says. ‘Ha, I sound old.’

‘You are old.’

There’s a noise from the stairs, behind me.

‘Prue?’

‘Yes, I’m here, Dad.’

Dad is clanking slowly down the metal steps, his hand on the railing. He insisted he didn’t need my help. He insisted he was ready for the next trip on the list.

‘Where’re you off to now?’ asks Kemp.

‘Kenwood House, at Hampstead,’ I mutter, looking at the ground.

‘Oh, right. In that case, I can get them on the way back. My sunglasses.’

‘The way back?’ I snap my head up.

‘Well, I’ll come with you, shall I?’ says Kemp. He’s grinning at me and his eyes are all twinkly and mischievous. I know that look. It usually preceded a trilogy on the karaoke in the pub: Def Leppard, Aerosmith and Guns N’ Roses. ‘I could do with the walk.’