‘Dunno. Maybe because my mum died when I was born and we don’t have any other family? Because I’m all he has now?’

‘Maybe. Doesn’t it … get on your nerves though?’

I sat up and crossed my legs so that I was looking down at him. ‘Kind of,’ I lie. I’d never thought much about it until now. I thought it was normal. ‘But I’m used to it. I added. ‘And I know he only does it because he cares about me – doesn’t want me to get hurt. He says the world’s a dangerous place.’

‘And you put up with that?’

I shrugged. ‘Yeah. He’s just keeping me safe.’ I paused. ‘But … since I’ve met you, I do kind of wish we could go out somewhere together. Like a real couple might.’ Like I’d seen in the films. That must be real, surely? ‘That would be fun.’

He rolled over onto his back. ‘We could do that.’

My stomach lurched with excitement. ‘But Dad would never agree to it.’

He put his hand on my knee and trailed it gently up towards my thigh and then into my jeans again. ‘But he wouldn’t have to know, would he?’

Fred and I agreed a date for a few days later. I literally counted the hours until it was time.

After dinner I yawned extravagantly and stretched. ‘I’m so tired, Dad. I think I’m going to head upstairs to read and have an early night.’

He frowned. ‘It’s very early. I hope you’re not coming down with something.’

‘No!’ I said, perhaps a little too firmly – the last thing I wanted was Dad barging in to check I hadn’t died in my sleep or if I needed some paracetamol. ‘No – I’m sure it’s nothing a good sleep won’t sort out. I feel fine, just tired. I just feel like a bit of time to myself,’ I added, hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck. ‘About to get my period,’ I lied, to make sure he wouldn’t ask any more questions. ‘That’s probably all it is.’

Dad smiled indulgently. ‘OK, Sweetpea. You sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Thanks, Dad. You too. Night.’

‘Night, darling.’

Up in my room I quietly changed into my favourite jeans, which were slightly more fitted than the others and, I noticed, tighter on me today than usual. Was I putting on weight? I made a mental note to stop baking so many cakes. I picked out a T-shirt with plastic jewels studded into it which Dad had bought me for my last birthday, brushed my hair and twisted it up the back of my head, securing it with a clip.