Dad sees me looking at her. ‘She’s a friend,’ he says, nodding in her direction. And that’s enough to make her walk over, her x mouth unpuckering into a smile.

‘Is this your girl, Dan?’

‘This is my Joanna.’

The woman studies me. She waves her empty glass towards Dad. ‘It’s about time love, isn’t it?’ she says, putting a hand on Dad’s shoulder. ‘She’s a lovely looking girl, Dan.’

‘She is.’

She bends towards me and the crystal drops swing forward to her chin. ‘Look after your dad, Joanna. He deserves it.’ I smell gin.

After she’s gone, Dad downs half his pint. ‘Joan,’ he says, shaking his head and smiling. ‘She means well.’ He glances at the bar and she raises her glass to him. ‘Looks out for me.’

‘Do you know everyone in here?’

‘I’ve come in quite a bit. It was lonely. You know. At first.’ He looks into his pint. ‘Anyway. You’re here now.’ He pats my knee.

‘I’ll have a burger,’ I say. ‘No onion.’

He goes to the bar, gets another pint.

We sit looking at the door, as if we’re waiting for someone else to appear.

‘How’s your mother?’ Dad asks.

‘She’s fine. The usual.’

Dad nods. ‘I don’t hear from her.’ He sups his pint. Pauses. ‘And school. How’s school?’

‘Usual.’

‘Shane?’

I don’t say anything for a while. I study the swing doors, imagining him pushing his way in.

‘Joanna?’

‘He’s – usual.’

‘Do you see him much?’

‘More than usual.’ A hotness pulses in my face. I look down at the menu. ‘Have they got ice cream?’

‘You’re looking after each other?’

‘Yes.’

Dad puts his elbows on the table and breathes out through his nose. The sleeve of his jumper dips in a puddle of beer. ‘He needs looking after, you know. It’s not his fault. Any of it.’

My eyes feel hot again. ‘What isn’t?’

‘Being – like he is. It’s not his fault.’

I run a finger down the condensation on my glass, tracing the bump near the lip. I think about my hand in Shane’s pocket.

Dad drains his pint. ‘It’s not been easy for Sheila.’

‘No.’

‘Or for me.’ He looks into his empty glass. ‘Want another?’

When Dad comes back from the bar, I’ve destroyed his beer mat. Shreds of soggy cardboard are scattered across the table. But he manages to clear a little space for his pint. ‘How’s school?’

‘You already asked me that.’

‘Oh.’ He gulps more beer, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and belches softly.

‘Are you remembering what I told you? About working hard?’

I flick my hair over my shoulder. ‘Simon’s helping me with my homework.’

Dad’s knee jiggles up and down, making the table shake.