The curtains were open when I walked up the path at Dad’s. I got my key out but the images of him unconscious rushed into my mind. I put the key away and knocked instead. We did have a doorbell but the batteries had run out ages ago and we hadn’t replaced them.

Dad was frowning when he opened the door but it evaporated when he saw me. ‘Tom. Great to see you. Come in,’ he said, reversing out of the way. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘I’m not stopping.’

‘Oh, right. Well, come in anyway.’ He went through to the kitchen. I followed but had a shufti into the living room as I passed. There were no empty bottles that I could see.

He leaned back against the worktop and looked at me. I put my bag down and stared at the floor. This was well weird. I was starting to heat up. The silence filled the room, sucking the air from it.

At last he spoke and I was so relieved. ‘I’ve been to my first AA meeting,’ he said. He sounded unsure.

‘How was it?’

‘Yeah. Okay. I don’t know what I was expecting but they were all ordinary people. Nice people. We just chatted and listened. It was a bit strange at first but I’ll go again.’

‘That’s good.’ I wanted to ask if he’d stopped drinking but looking at him he seemed different. His skin was a normal colour and the dark rings under his eyes weren’t as bad as before. His hair was washed and he was keeping up with the shaving.

‘My counsellor suggested you and I have a chat about how you felt… you know. About my drinking.’

I didn’t know what to say. I feared if I started to tell him, I’d end up shouting at him. I shrugged instead.

‘How did it make you feel, Tom?’

One word shot into my mind. ‘Shit.’ I think that summed it up quite well.

‘Right.’ Dad nodded. He was no more equipped for this conversation than I was.

I remembered the cake and it felt like a lifeline. I hurriedly got it out of my bag. It was still intact. Maggie would be proud of me. ‘Here. Maggie made it.’ I handed it over.

Dad looked at the brown paper package like I’d handed him a hand grenade with no pin. ‘Thanks, I guess.’

‘You guess?’ How rude was that? ‘It’s lemon drizzle cake.’ The words sounded like an accusation. ‘It’s exactly like Mum used to make.’ This was no good. I was getting cross. I was always going to be angry with him. I snatched up my bag. ‘I have to go.’

‘Why?’

I stopped and looked at him. He was clutching the cake and his face was a mix of sadness and confusion.