‘Sure,’ says Theo, shrugging, trying to look unruffled, when his heart is racing and his palms sweating at the thought of having it out with his father after all this time. ‘Because you’re so forthcoming with information. I’ve tried asking you before but you’re never straight with me.’

‘It saddens me that you feel you have to snoop.’

Theo folds his arms across his chest. Should he deny it? There’s no point.

‘I know you’ve been in my study,’ says his dad, in the same deathly calm voice. ‘You left the cupboard door unlocked.’

‘Why do you have a file of random women and a bunch of newspaper reports about Mum?’

His dad stares at him, his face impassive. And Theo suspects that he probably rehearsed exactly what he’d say before he got here. ‘The newspaper reports are old, from the time of your mum’s death. I’d forgotten all about them. And the file is just patients I’ve helped, over the years, that’s all. You wouldn’t understand, not being in the medical profession yourself, but you get attached to people you’ve helped. I wanted to remember them.’

Something doesn’t add up. ‘Then why hide both under lock and key?’

His dad makes a pff sound with his mouth. ‘Oh, give up on the Colombo act, for goodness’ sake. You’re making something out of nothing. I just forgot about them. You know I retired years ago.’ He crosses his legs, looking at Theo with a smug expression.

Theo pushes back his hair, feeling flustered. He can’t allow his dad to wiggle out of this. Not now he’s here. Not now he’s brought this up.

‘So Cynthia was lying, was she?’

His father adjusts the knee of his trousers. ‘It’s complicated. I did nothing wrong. She had a boyfriend, she got hysterical and tried to make out I’d acted inappropriately. I wasn’t with your mother then. It was before we met. I don’t need to force women to be with me, Theo.’

Theo wants to believe him but he doesn’t. He’s being too nice, too helpful. Like he’s been backed into a corner.

‘Then why the newspaper article on your desk with the words Find Her scribbled on it? Why –’

‘Why, why, why?’ he spits. ‘I thought I’d come here, be nice, try to explain. But no, it’s not enough for you, is it? Nagging. Just like your mother.’ He gathers up his jacket and stands up.

‘Look, Dad, this is a conversation to have in private. I get off in half an hour. I could come over and –’

But before he can finish his sentence, his dad pushes past him, and Theo loses his footing, stumbling into the table behind him, which thankfully is empty.