The eyelids fluttered, and he took a few steps back, gripping the edge of the leather armchair. ‘Dylan was sad, Lucas. About a girl. And hating his new school. And because of you and Esther—’

‘Me and Esther? How dare you?’

‘Yes, you keep saying that. But I dare, Lucas,’ he rasped, the anger stirring, as Lucas knew it would.

‘How the hell did you know, anyway? About me and Esther?’

He blinked properly, for a moment looking almost sheepish. ‘Patrick drops me a line. From time to time. Grandfathers united… look, I was sorry to hear it…’

‘Patrick had no right. And you have no business being sorry. I do not care what you feel, about anything, do you hear? About me. Or Esther. Or the world. And for the record, you don’t fool me about the booze either. Whatever sob stories you’ve spun to the children, or anyone else. I know you. I know you. Which is why I have kept away, and will continue to do so. As will my children. My children. So, if you ever try to make contact with Dylan or Lily again—’

‘You’ll what, Lucas? They’re adults. And I shall contact whomsoever I choose. Tired now,’ he mumbled suddenly, starting to edge round to the front of the armchair, using both hands for support. He lowered himself into the seat with a heavy sigh. ‘Lucas.’ He paused to breathe again. ‘I am sorry I wasn’t a better father, but there were pressures. Your mother…’

‘Don’t you dare…’ Lucas let the sentence hang, aware how often he had used the phrase, and in danger suddenly of feeling feeble. He focussed on swallowing instead, trying to disperse an extraordinary and unexpected lump suddenly clogging the back of his throat.

‘She was a depressive, Lucas.’ He had covered his face with his hands and was speaking through his fingers, his voice thin and weary. ‘She threatened countless times to take her life. I kept it from you. She wouldn’t stick with her medication. Sometimes, it felt as though she wanted to punish me with her misery.’

‘Punish you?’ Lucas managed a scornful laugh. In spite of himself, his mother was in his head, not the usual unbearable imagined scene, but a close-up of her face, her smile, with its sad, haunted eyes.

‘It was bad. I was bad. It was hard. I lost my nerve… at work… at life… found pleasure elsewhere, wherever the hell I could… behaved so terribly…’ He turned in his seat, ensnaring Lucas with his piercing eyes. ‘But these are things I have dared to imagine you might know a little about yourself now…’

‘Stop. Shut up. Not another word. I am nothing like you. Nothing.’ The monstrous shameful throat lump had given way, making it necessary to shout his way through the words.