‘Ah. Not exactly. My mistake. Maybe you do not think I am clear enough in how I express my thoughts. Maybe you even, secretly, entertain doubts about me in other aspects of this dire and demeaning situation.’ He had let go of her wrists and was leaning back in his chair, looking at her down the length of his nose, his irises glinting under the hoods of his eyelids.

‘No doubts,’ Heidi said firmly, resolving to ignore the iciness in his tone. Her father’s voice was in her head again. ‘I trust you, Lucas,’ she said solemnly. ‘In everything.’

‘Well, there’s a matter for rejoicing.’ He picked up his glass again, draining it. ‘Hallelujah.’

A disbelieving laugh escaped her. ‘Lucas, I am trying to make things better. I have said something important. How dare you be angry with me?’

‘I am not angry, Heidi,’ he countered, his voice so harsh she felt her stomach turn over. ‘I fully understand that, albeit unwittingly, I allowed Moira to feel threatened and overwhelmed by my educated male privilege, that she felt invaded instead of helped, as I intended. More than anything, however, I am just so utterly fed up with the whole subject of Moira Giddings, and the way she has been allowed, on the basis of virtually nothing, to throw a giant, fucking spanner into my – our – entire life.’ He reached again for the bottle, freezing in momentarily comical astonishment when Heidi swiped it off the table first.

‘I hate you drinking. It changes you.’ She clutched the bottle to her chest.

‘No, it doesn’t. It’s just a fun thing to do from time to time. And sometimes, yes, when the world is throwing crap at you, it can help. A crutch, of sorts, if you will.’

‘And would your father have said the same thing?’