‘Let me finish. Please, Sal.’ He’s searching to make contact with my eyes but I turn my head away. ‘Sal, you have to understand, I was under fierce pressure, I didn’t know what to do. I planned to tell you as soon as the time was right… as soon as the moment was right and then, when you mentioned it on Saturday you… you caught me off guard, I wasn’t prepared and I… I just panicked.’

It didn’t look like panic to me. In fact, he was pretty relaxed as far as I can remember. If I was asked for my honest opinion in a court of law, I would say Tom thought the problem would go away. That this boy would be happy to have a distant relationship with him and Sally Cooper wouldn’t have to know a thing about it.

So what has gone wrong? Why is Tom telling me now? And why were the cops here? Maybe it’s time for me to ask a few questions.

‘Were you with me at the time this son was conceived?’ I can’t hide my bitterness.

‘No, Sal, it happened before I met you.’

‘What age is he?’

‘Sixteen.’

I want to vomit. My heart is about to explode. If the kid is sixteen, which ties in with what Charlie said: Tom was with me; Amber is fifteen. Does he think I’m a fucking idiot, that I can’t do the maths?

‘Tom, you were with me,’ I say, working hard to keep my voice even.

He’s taking deep breaths now.

‘Not really, Sal, I’d met you but we weren’t going steady or married so…’ He takes a few steps closer to me. ‘We weren’t together, Sal, I was never unfaithful to you.’

Standing to avoid any pathetic attempt he might be dreaming up to soothe me, my face creases with anger. He steps closer, I can smell the woody scent of his aftershave and it turns my stomach even more. Lifting both my hands in the air I take a step backwards to warn him off. I will need the exact dates to work out if Tom and I were going steady at the time: if we were, it changes everything; if we weren’t, he’s a liar and a dickhead.

‘When were you planning on telling me all this? If I hadn’t seen that photo would I ever have known?’ And then I remember what started this all off. ‘Why were the police here today, Tom?’

Tom rubs his chin looking up at the ceiling and letting out what I can only describe as a sound an animal might make, a squeaky groan. Something tells me this is going to get worse.

‘Well… that’s the thing,’ he says.

Chapter Fifteen