The boy stands almost as tall as Tom. Dark hair falls in a thick shiny fringe down one side of his face. His skin is glowing red with embarrassment. He must be nervous, he looks nervous, fidgeting with his hands as he walks over to the table. Tom smiles at me when they get closer, introducing me to Kenny who holds out his hand like I’m about to interview him. It probably feels like that to him. That I’m the one who’ll decide if he stays or if he goes. Kenny is finding it hard to look at me, his eyes darting all over the place before eventually settling on mine. And then I see it. The similarity. Tom’s smile, his blue eyes, the jutting chin and square forehead. It might have taken a DNA test to convince Tom but I see it the moment my eyes land on the boy. He even stands like Tom: straight back, chest out like a peacock. Getting up from the table I take Kenny’s hand and shake it. His palms are sweaty like mine. This is not a natural introduction. It feels weird, like none of us should be here.

‘This is Sally, my wife,’ Tom says as Kenny and I shake hands.

‘Sal, this is Kenny.’

The whole thing feels so strange my instinct is to laugh out loud, bring the house down. But I don’t, instead I chew on the inside of my lip trying to hold a serious face. Am I really sitting in McDonald’s being introduced to Tom’s secret child?

Saoirse the social worker suggested McDonald’s, said it would be a good spot to meet as Kenny and Tom have been here many times. Saoirse seems to know a lot more about Tom’s relationship with Kenny than I do. I wonder what else he’s told her?

She said it would be less intimidating than some formal restaurant or even our house where Kenny would feel like a stranger. So here we are, two big Macs and a chicken wrap away from forming our judgements.

The thing is, I don’t care what Kenny thinks of me. I’m not the one trying to impress, even though I’m pretty sure Tom cares what I think of Kenny. He shouldn’t, my opinion on the matter is nothing to do with Kenny himself, I don’t want any stranger moving in with us.

‘What would you like to eat?’ Tom asks Kenny as he shuffles into the seat on the opposite side of the table to me.

‘Eh, just a drink, thanks.’

‘Ah, eat something. Will I get you the usual?’