He hung his head then, chin tucked into his chest, as he swirled a small puddle of lager around the base of his glass. I said nothing.

‘Fuck it!’ He gripped his hair with his fingers and covered his face with the palms of his hands. ‘I’ve screwed everything up, haven’t I?’

There are some decisions that alter the course of your future; pivotal moments in life where you find yourself standing at a crossroads. Go left and you’re off down that path and there’s no turning back. Same if you go right.

‘Bollocks.’ The wooden picnic table shook as Mark got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, Claire, you’re better off without me.’

He strode across the patio with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward.

‘Mark!’ My throat was too tight and his name came out as a whisper. ‘Mark!’

I had no choice but to go after him.

‘Mark!’ I grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me. Don’t you dare!’

He stopped walking but said nothing.

‘Is that it?’ I said. ‘You tell me you had a shit childhood, then you walk away? You’re not the only one who had a rough time, you know, but you don’t see me feeling sorry for myself and—’

He grabbed me around the waist and pressed his lips so hard against mine that our teeth clashed and my neck cricked as he leaned his weight into me.

‘Give me another chance,’ he breathed as he pulled away. ‘Give me another chance and I swear I’ll never let you down again, Claire. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.’

I didn’t have to think twice. I was eighteen years old. I was in love.

Now the back door clicks open and I catch the briefest glimpse of a baseball cap before it ducks back outside and the door slams shut.

‘Wait!’ I jump up from my chair and sprint across the kitchen. ‘Come back!’

Chapter 13

‘Jake! Wait! We need to talk.’

My eldest son ignores me. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a key. He stoops to place it into the lock, wincing as he shifts his weight onto his bad foot, then turns the handle and yanks the garage door open.

He hobbles inside, swears at the pool of oil puddled around Mark’s lawnmower, then fiddles with the dusty stereo on the shelf at the back of the garage. Pounding rock music fills the room as he straddles the weights bench and shuffles onto his back. His fingers wrap around the silver bar and his biceps tense as he lifts the dumbbell off the bar.

‘Jake! Are you ignoring me?’

He doesn’t reply. Instead he grunts as he dips the bar down to his chest and then presses it into the air.