‘Dad wasn’t an easy man to grow up with. Not that he was there much.’ I sigh heavily.

‘Okay, start with your mum if it’s easier, and I’ll try and fill in the blanks.’ He smiles at me disarmingly.

Mum is easier. Well her relationship with me is, I’m not sure about the one she has with Dad. ‘Mum is lovely.’

‘Like you.’ He smiles.

‘Flatterer! She is though, lovely, but a bit batty at times. No, don’t say it! She was stunning when she was young, really gorgeous in her wedding photos, and of all the men she could have married, she had to fall for Dad.’

It’s hard, he’s my dad. You don’t think nasty things about your dad when you’re young, do you? They can never do any wrong. Annoy you maybe, but you don’t see the real flaws. I’m starting to see the real flaws. It’s horrible, it’s casting a shadow on my childhood, a longer one than noticing he wasn’t there at the time. But, I mean, how bad is it when you realise that you’re comparing possible boyfriends to your dad and instantly binning any that show any similarities at all. When I started to date Robbie I did it self-consciously, pompously aware that they were very different, and quite proud of myself and my wise choice. Since I’ve been a single woman again there’s been a beacon flashing in my head shouting out loud and clear that trusting any man with a flirt gene is impossible for me.

I hate him. Dad. He has effectively stamped out any desire (well, maybe not desire) to follow my heart in a search of passion. Mum might think I’m missing out, but really? Is passion really that great, great enough to risk a broken heart?

‘She’s still pretty okay.’ I flick through my phone, as a distraction, show him a recent snap of the two of us.

Noah peers closely. ‘More than pretty okay. She looks beautiful. Obvious family resemblance, though you of course aren’t quite …’

‘Cheeky bugger.’ I play thump his arm, then stare at the photo again. ‘She was so glamorous, so confident and bubbly when I was little.’ I smile to myself. ‘The coolest mum at school pick-up time. But,’ I’ve only realised this bit recently, ‘she was doing it mainly for him I reckon. She was chasing him, trying to make sure he still loved her.’

‘Is that so bad?’ he says softly.

‘What do you think?’ I square up to him. ‘Was love worth it for your mate, Jed?’

‘I’m talking about you, not him. He’s not here to say.’

‘Look, I reckon Mum was dead sexy, really confident when she was younger. Well, that’s what I get from what my grandparents say. They actually thought Mum and Dad were a really good match, and even though she was brilliant, fun, everything a man should have wanted,’ I glare, challenging him to contradict me, he doesn’t, ‘he still cheated on her.’