‘Dad, what’s wrong?’ She knows something is up when both of us want to talk to her together. It hasn’t happened since she ‘experimented,’ as she describes it, with the vodka last year. Tom had sat beside her on that occasion, talking to her like she was a victim. ‘Who gave it to you, princess?’ ‘Did you feel pressured into taking it?’ etc., etc. There was something about the way he said it that made me laugh out loud, so loud that both of them turned and stared at me. I tried to stop but I couldn’t. I laughed and laughed and laughed even more at their still faces, mouths open with shock. Tom asked what I was laughing at but I couldn’t stop to tell him. All I could see was sneaky little Amber, who finally admitted to me that she had robbed the vodka from the cupboard in our kitchen, hid it at the bottom of her bag, then took it to her friend’s house where she disguised it in a bottle of Coke. Then she had the audacity to drink it in front of her friend’s mother while she drove them to the venue. Poor Amber my arse. And there’s Tom talking to her like she was kidnapped and held down while someone poured vodka down her throat. I got up from the table leaving the two of them staring at me as I left the room. ‘You’re grounded for a month,’ I said, then closed the door behind me.

Before sitting down I check that Cian and Aaron are still engrossed with Peppa Pig while munching on their Rice Krispies. Leaving the door slightly ajar in case either of them calls me, I return to my seat at the table.

I don’t think Tom will be laughing this time. Looking at Amber’s pale face bracing herself for what she presumes is bad news, I want to cry. The poor kid shouldn’t have to deal with this. What’s she going to think? Amber has always looked up to Tom, respected him, trusted him. I don’t want her to think less of him, I’m doing enough of that for both of us. It could knock her self-confidence, one of Amber’s greatest assets.

Her belief in herself impresses me. I never had that kind of self-belief at her age. I could never argue a topic with someone older than me, especially not my dad. He scared me. Mom was already gone. Please God, do not let this crazy situation put a crack in Amber’s armour.

‘Hurry up, Ma, I haven’t all day,’ she says. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Sarah at eleven.’ Her phone sits on the table in front of her, upside down of course. God forbid anyone else looked at it. Tom is rubbing his hands on his jeans, looking at me nervously as I sit opposite them.