It was no one’s fault. There was no one to blame. He had tried – blaming the doctors who came running, the nurse who was there, the ineffective resuscitation pads, and once, in a particularly dark moment, he had wondered if Rosie and Kaz had done something wrong. He was ashamed of that, but the thought had dug its way into his mind and he had to struggle to keep it flattened down. He told himself he must never think it – and, when that did not work, he swore to never speak it out loud.

He wondered if it was something that had been passed on. From Cris. He retreated deeper into his thoughts and shook his head as Cris offered lunch, a walk, a talk. None of it was any use. Karl would not sleep.

He had tried so hard, throughout his adult life, to be a good parent. He could remember when Kaz was born, how he’d sat up late at night with him, when he was restless, and formed lists in his mind of what he’d do for his child. Some nights he imagined teaching him to swim. Sometimes it was picking him up from school in the car to save him cycling home through heavy rain. His father had done that for him once, and he still remembered the gratitude of seeing that car, its windows misted and its lights on, outside the school gate. He’d spent ages running through all the possible types of advice he could give – advice about school, relationships, work, how to fix a leaking tap, repot a house plant, how to dance, how to be gentle, how to be strong. But it wasn’t the advice he could give that really mattered. What he wanted to do was listen. He would listen to his son, he promised himself. He’d be a father who knew how to listen without offering advice. But the thing was, now he needed someone to do that for him. He achingly wanted his own father to sit down opposite him, to remind him of the beautiful feeling that came from knowing there was someone who would appear just when he needed them, in the car, its windows misted and its lights on, offering him a drive home.

He looked up at Cris and felt his eyes starting to water before he blinked that away – he shouldn’t be the one crying about this.

‘I know,’ Cris said.

But Karl hadn’t spoken. When was the last time he had spoken?