Much later, I tiptoed up the stairs carefully avoiding the squeaky board, glancing at the door to Dad’s room which was closed as usual. I gingerly opened my door without putting on the light as usual and:

‘There you are,’ came Dad’s voice out of the darkness. I yelped and flicked on the light.

‘What are you doing?’ I shrieked, my heart racing. ‘You made me jump out of my skin!’

There was a weird expression on his face – not quite anger. Disappointment, maybe? I’d never seen him look like that before. He was holding something in his hands but I couldn’t see quite what. ‘Been out for another walk?’ he sneered.

Oh God. ‘Yes,’ I whispered hoarsely. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

He raised his arm and I flinched as he hurled something across the room. It smashed against the wall and broke into several pieces – my phone. It ricocheted back towards him and he stamped on it, again, again and again, then picked up the pieces and stormed out of the room. I heard a splash and then the sound of the toilet flushing.

Bile rose in my throat. ‘I’m sorry, Dad …’

He barrelled back into the room and grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Sorry?!’ he spat. ‘You’re sorry are you? I’ve spent all these years trying to keep you safe, protect you and then you do this, literally the first boy you see, literally the first boy, and you’re doing God knows what, given the state of those messages and …’

His face crumpled as he let go of my shoulders and sank down on my bed. He started sobbing, loud, hiccupping sobs as he buried his face in his hands. I touched his shoulder gently. ‘Dad, please don’t cry …’

Tears were running down my face. He looked up at me. ‘I’m sorry, Laura. I failed you.’

I start to cry too. ‘No. You didn’t,’ I say. ‘You were trying to protect me, I understand that.’ I thought he meant that he realized he’d sheltered me too much and had realized he had to let me live a little. He hadn’t failed. I knew he loved me. I should have—

‘I FAILED!!!’ he burst out. ‘This boy – he got to you! You could be pregnant! He could have killed you, or hurt you. I can’t let you carry on seeing him, he would hurt you eventually, they all do …’ he babbled.

‘He hasn’t hurt me! I love—’ I broke off.

‘Oh Laura,’ he said, his voice low. ‘You don’t love him.’

‘How do you know?’ I cried.

Dad took me in his arms, but I stiffened. I didn’t want him to touch me. ‘I love you. No one can love you like I do,’ he said. He moved away and held me at arm’s length, looking into my eyes.

‘You understand that, don’t you?’