Theo thanks him, and waves goodbye, watching Larry getting smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror as he turns out of the street. He suddenly hates his dad with a passion. He grips the steering wheel tightly, imagining that the faux-leather beneath his hands is his dad’s sinewy throat. But then Theo releases his grip. He hasn’t got a violent bone in him. He’s so fucking angry with his dad, but he knows he could never hurt him: if he did, that would make him no better than his father.

The woman could have lied. The idea pops into his head and he wants to believe it – oh, how he wants to. But he can’t. He thinks of her, Cynthia, struggling to make her voice heard in the mid-1970s when a man like his father would have held all the power. If he refuses to believe her now he’s no different. For a mad second he’s actually relieved his mum is no longer around to hear about it. What would she have done if she knew? Would she have had the strength to leave him?

Arctic Monkeys’ ‘R U Mine?’ comes on the radio and he turns it up loud, trying to drown his thoughts. What should he do next? There is no point in confronting his dad about it. It’s not like he’ll suddenly turn around to Theo and admit it. He’ll just get angry again, then defensive and nasty.

And then another thought pops into his head.

If his dad is capable of sexually assaulting someone, what other terrible things has he done?

Jen is sitting up in bed watching Friends. He’d popped into the garage to buy her a giant bag of Maltesers on his way home, like he promised, and her eyes light up when he walks into the bedroom dangling them enticingly, making sure he’s plastered a cheerful mask over his anxious face before entering the room.

‘Perfect,’ she says, her knees sinking into the mattress as she reaches up and throws her arms around his neck. He climbs onto the bed and lies fully clothed next to her.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, as she settles down and opens the packet, shoving a handful into her mouth.

‘Better now,’ she mumbles, through the Maltesers, offering him one. He shakes his head.

She pauses the telly, even though it’s an episode they’ve both seen umpteen times and one of Theo’s favourites – the one when the girls lose their apartment to the boys in a bet. Jen could probably quote it verbatim. Comfort telly, she calls it, and she’s right. It’s not lost on him that it’s the episode when Phoebe finds out she’s pregnant.

‘Well?’ she asks, swallowing her mouthful. ‘How did it go?’ Concern flashes in her eyes. ‘You seem sad.’

He shrugs. ‘I’m not a good actor, am I?’