I think that as I look at them again now – twelve or so portraits of Dad, in pencil, or oil paint, or watercolour, and the other sketches and paintings I’ve done. I look at them critically, each and every one. They’re just not good enough.

I put them away again. Under the photo album in the tall cupboard. Some things we don’t mention. Lots of things we keep hidden away. Still, it’s a hobby. And a woman who sits in a flat for years on end doing bugger all needs a hobby.

CHAPTER 11

‘Bloody hell, Dad, this is amazing!’

‘I told you it was beautiful!’

‘Yeah, but this, this … How come I’ve never heard of this place?’

‘Not a lot of people have. It’s one of London’s best kept secrets.’

‘But you remembered it.’

‘Of course I remembered it!’

It’s Wednesday. We nearly didn’t come here today. To St Dunstan in the East. We were all ready to head out the door – me in a chambray sundress that has never seen the light of day; Dad in navy chinos and a black Fred Perry – when Dad said, ‘Why are we doing this, Prue? I don’t want to go out today.’

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘You were looking forward to this – Dunstan in the Whatsit …’

‘I’m not sure I can face it,’ he said, hovering in the doorway and looking anxious. ‘London, the crowds, the whole bloody difficulty of getting anywhere, Prue.’

He’s scared, I thought. He told me he was scared and he is.

‘Well, I think we should try,’ I said perkily. It threw me, seeing him like that. I didn’t like it. But I knew, suddenly, that I wanted to stick to Dad’s list, to see it through, step by step. I knew we had a long way to go. I knew the road was going to be difficult, and stressful, but we were taking those steps, one at a time, and we were talking more, too. Just a little. I felt panicked at the thought of that stopping, of us going back to the way we were.

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘Let’s go. We’ve got water and we can pick up a few snacks en route, and we can stop any time we like …’ I am trying to jolly him out the door. ‘Let’s go, Dad.’

Dad sighed. ‘It’s just so hard,’ he said, his hand on the door frame as though he were about to pivot himself around and go back to his chair.

‘I know. I know it is. But let’s just go, shall we? See how we feel. Please don’t be scared, Dad.’