I take off my coat and sit down, knowing better than to object. I swear Dad doesn’t use any of the other downstairs rooms apart from the kitchen and the loo. He has a little TV above the breakfast bar that he watches, even in the evenings, despite the fact that I bought him a flat-screen TV for the lounge last Christmas. And the dining room is completely redundant. I don’t think anyone has set foot in there for over a year.

Mum used to love it when we all sat in the dining room for Sunday lunch. She would make an occasion of it, with all the best china and glasses. And she loved having Christmas dinner in there too. Every year we would decorate the room with tinsel and table decorations, play seasonal music and light a cheerful fire in the hearth. A couple of years after she died, I tried to recreate a similar Christmas day for the three of us. But Dina was disappointed that Dad had forgotten to get us any presents, so she spent the whole day in her bedroom refusing to come out even when I begged her to join us for lunch. If only she had been a bit more willing to try. To meet me halfway… but it’s no good wishing. Not now anyway.

Dad walks over to the sink. ‘Water, you say?’

I nod and he pours me a glass before making himself a cup of tea.

‘I’ve got some news.’

‘Oh yeah?’ He spoons sugar into his mug and turns around, stirring his tea.

‘How would you like to be a grandad?’

He glances up sharply. ‘You’re…?’

‘Yep. Due in July.’

‘Oh, Zoe.’ He puts his mug on the counter and nods, his eyes softening. ‘Congratulations, love.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You feeling all right?’

‘A bit tired, but I’m okay.’

‘Your mum had terrible sickness with Dina. Not so much with you.’

‘I haven’t had much. Just a bit at the beginning. On my wedding day actually.’

‘Good, glad you’re feeling okay. Thought it was a bit strange you not having a cuppa.’

‘I’ve gone right off caffeine.’

‘So, July?’

‘That’s right.’

He nods and picks up his mug. Blows on his tea before taking a sip. I’d thought he might at least have given me a hug or something. But old habits die hard. Dad never has been one for displays of affection.

‘Have you heard from Dina lately?’ I ask.

‘Not for a while, no. Still in Thailand I take it?’

‘That’s the thing, Dad. We texted before Christmas, but I haven’t heard anything since. I tried her mobile yesterday but the number’s out of service.’ I’m hoping my sister didn’t change her number on purpose, just to worry me, or to cut off contact. I wouldn’t put it past her. ‘Have you got another number for her?’