‘Show some respect!’ The words flew out of Lucas’s throat before he could stop them, blocking the image of his beleaguered child, now frantically swiping at tears, and replacing it with his own father four decades before, towering over him, thundering the same impossible command. To demand respect meant you hadn’t earned it. Lucas had known that even at twelve, just as he had known that his father, gripping his battered medical bag, his thick hair pitifully askew, late for work and the school drop-off as usual, knew it too. ‘Look, Dylan…’ Lucas stammered. His body was prickling all over suddenly, like the pins and needles after numbness. It felt like fear. To lose control, it wasn’t how he behaved. Ever. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. The fact is, things went wrong between Mum and me for all sorts of reasons…’

The flat’s entrance door slammed.

‘Only me,’ came Lily’s clear soprano from the hall. ‘Anybody home?’

‘In here,’ Lucas called back, stepping towards the door to shield Dylan, hastily drying his face on the duvet. ‘Encouraging your brother to get his act together.’

‘Ah. A reveille. I see. Well, I am honoured. At least, I think I am…’ Lily peered round Lucas as she leant against the door jamb, crossing her arms. There was an atmosphere, but Lily was an old hand at that and alert enough to guess that Dylan’s dire exam results would have been at the heart of it. Attired in the formal dark clothes and scholarly gown required for the graduation ceremony, with dabs of colour – blue eye shadow, spots of blusher, pinkish lips – highlighting her neat features, she resembled an exotic flower. Her skin still glowed from the recent sojourn in Italy, and her hair, bleached silvery-white, was pinned into a tight ball on the top of her head, ringed by a piece of black velvet ribbon that matched the one round her neck.

‘I was thinking breakfast en famille might be nice. I’ve even brought muffins and my own soya milk for coffee. Mum has texted to say she is running a bit late, so can we get there early to field Gran and Grandad. Matteo’s going to meet us there too.’

‘All sounds good to me,’ Lucas said briskly, ‘and you look very smart, sweetheart.’ He hugged her, careful not to mess up the bun. ‘Coffee coming right up. After I’ve found your brother a decent something.’ He flashed a mollified expression at Dylan before heading off to the kitchen, wondering what it would take to make the boy see that all the fatherly raging came from love and the sheer despair of witnessing the squandering of so much potential.

‘Okay, Dyl?’

‘Sure, Boo. You?’