I think I might have come close to pushing on that door the day Norman and Jax made their poster for the Five-Year Plan with all the talk of Edinburgh and that old photo of my father that I hadn’t seen for years. But I slunk away. Because maybe, just maybe, I was too busy trying to prove I was enough for my son to make up for not being quite enough for my father. And maybe I had never wanted to consider that Norman might actually want a say in it. But now it was looking like I might have to crack that door wide-open. Even if behind it was the risk of a booby prize like Adam Linley.

“Sadie! Hey, you there!” Like I hadn’t seen him coming and as if you could miss him in that bloody great lump of a mobility scooter. Adam’s navigation left a lot to be desired and, as well as taking out several chairs on the way through the café, there were a couple of small children that had very near misses. At the sound of Adam’s voice, I felt Norman involuntarily shrink down in his seat like he might be trying to disappear. You and me both, kid. I grabbed his hand under the table and held on tight.

Adam’s scooter jerked to a halt at our table, running over my bag in the process and barely missing Norman’s legs, which he swung out of the way just in time.

“Hello again, Adam. Lovely to...mmm. Norman, this is Adam. Adam, Norman.” Norman stuck out his hand and gave him a nervous smile, but Adam barely even looked at him.

“You ordered yet, love?”

For one too-good-to-be-true moment I thought Adam was going to reveal a redeeming feature by offering to buy our drinks. But before I could say, thanks but actually, yes, I already have and in fact here they are now and please don’t reverse into the waitress carrying our hot chocolates, Adam shattered my delusion.

“Ah, be a doll and order me a coffee then, would you? Caramel latte, double shot of caramel, three sugars. This thing’s a bastard to get up to the counter and those fuckers always try to pretend they can’t see me. Excuse my French. Go on now, there’s a love. Me and Norman will be okay here.”

There was no offer of any money, but if we could get through this meeting for the cost of a coffee, even with the extra shot, I thought we’d be doing okay. On my way up to the counter I turned to look back over my shoulder. Neither of them had moved. Adam was leaning back in the scooter with his hands behind his head, most definitely now looking at Norman, who was staring downward, scuffing the floor with his trainers. I knew I needed to get back there quick before Adam and his motor mouth plowed into my son’s tender heart at full tilt.

But with four people ahead of me and none of them under seventy it took a good ten minutes to get served. I was sweating on Norman being on his own at the mercy of Adam, but when I finally pushed my way back to the table around a clutch of schoolgirls and a couple of backed-up prams, my son was alive and well and his body, soul and spirit all seemed very much intact.