The crunching sound of gravel under tyres makes him jump and he stands up to look out of the study window. His dad is pulling his Mercedes onto the driveway next to his old Volvo. Bollocks. He’d thought he had more time. His dad will see his car and know he’s here. In the house. Alone. Something he hasn’t done since moving out properly after university.

He shoves the folder back on top of the newspaper cuttings and drops the shelf on top, slamming the cupboard door shut, his heart hammering so hard he can feel the pound of it in his ears. He dreads to think how apoplectic his dad will be if he catches him in his study. He tries to relock the cupboard but no amount of wriggling of the paperclip works. Sweat breaks out on his forehead. He has no choice but to leave it and hope his dad thinks he just forgot to lock it.

He goes to the window again. His dad is standing in the driveway frowning at Theo’s car, his hand stroking the back of his head. Then, he looks up at his study and Theo has to duck. Shit, was he seen?

He crawls on his hands and knees away from the window and exits the study, running down the elaborate staircase, his trainers squeaking on the parquet as he races into the kitchen. He can hear his dad’s key in the lock. Theo grabs himself a glass of water and sits at the island, trying to catch his breath and make it look like he’s been sitting there the whole time.

The soles of his dad’s expensive brogues echo in the hallway. And then he’s there, filling the doorway, all six foot three inches of him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he growls.

‘Mavis let me in. I wanted to see you to – to apologize for the other day.’

His dad eyes him warily, as though unsure whether to believe him.

‘She told me you’d be back soon.’ The lie slips surprisingly easily from Theo’s tongue but he blushes anyway, like he used to do at school when he was caught out by a teacher.

His dad goes over to the kettle and switches it on. He looks tired. There are new lines under his eyes and he places both hands on his lower back and does a kind of stretch.

‘Are you all right for food?’ asks Theo.

‘Of course I am. I’m a grown man. I can look after myself. I did do national service.’

Christ, thinks Theo, mentally rolling his eyes, not that old chestnut. His father had been in the last cohort to do national service and, growing up, he never let Theo forget it.