‘Yes, she does. Now and then.’ He put his finger to the text on the page, moving it down, line by line, as he started to read. Just as he always had, Lucas remembered, even when it was a bedtime story. He had done the voices too: squawking parrots, roaring bears, croaking frogs, spouting whales. He had been good at the voices.

‘Thank you for the napkin ring.’

He nodded.

‘And Dylan, he seems okay.’ Lucas’s nails whitened as he gripped the plate. He balled his free hand into a fist. His father never made anything easy, for himself or anyone else, and maybe there was something to respect in that, even if there had been no hope of seeing it as a child. ‘You are right, Dylan and Lily are both old enough to choose whom they see, and I won’t stand in the way of that.’

His father turned the page of his book, his eyes making a show of travelling, but the tracking finger had fallen still.

‘Thank you for what you told me. About Mum.’ Lucas had to wrench each word from his throat. Esther’s verdict on forgiveness had been insightful and impossible to disagree with, but that didn’t make it easy. There were some places no magic wand could reach. ‘Look, I said some harsh things, Dad. I didn’t trust you. But I shall try to, all right? From now on.’ He crossed the room and set the plate on the little table next to the bed. ‘There. That’s what I wanted to say. And also, eat the damned toast. For Christ’s sake, Dad, you’re a bag of bones.’

He went back and placed a hand on the bony shoulder, lightly, feeling no revulsion, only pity, and then hurried from the room.

Downstairs only Esther remained in the hall.

‘All set, then?’ she asked blithely, fiddling with the buckle on her handbag, though it didn’t look as if it needed fiddling with.

‘Esther, come here. Please?’ Lucas held out his hands. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, seeing the reluctance and suspicion flood her face. ‘Just a hug. And a thank you. You were right,’ he murmured, as their arms, firm and kind, encircled each other. ‘Last night. It would have been wrong.’

‘Yes. It would.’

‘You always were the wiser one,’ he said softly as they stepped apart. ‘Please forgive me for not being better at appreciating that.’

‘Okay, thanks. No violins necessary. But thanks. The kids are good to go.’ She led the way out of the house, to where Lily and Dylan were already settled on the back seat of the car, with both the front doors open and waiting. ‘Lucas?’ she called, as he hung back. ‘What is it?’