She sings. Even when I drop a spoon to throw a pillow at her, and even when she laughs so hard she almost falls off the bed, she keeps on singing. And when she gets to the chorus at the end, I do my best to sing the in-between notes usually reserved for Fake Mel C, and it sounds like something is dying in my throat.

The song ends and she flops back on to my pillow. ‘How did my daughter end up with a voice like that? You must’ve got it from your dad – he couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow, either.’

I tut at her. ‘Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you.’

We get our breath back as the light leaks out of the sky outside, and the music seems to disappear with it. I watch the last of the sun swirling round the ceiling like water disappearing down a drain.

‘Do you miss it? Singing,’ I whisper.

I feel her breathing freeze. Just for a moment. Then she smiles. ‘Nah. Touring was the worst – they always put us in the most awful hotels. I tell you, the real Vicky Beckham wouldn’t have stood for it.’

She laughs, but it doesn’t quite cover the sadness sitting on the back of her tongue. It doesn’t quite cover the lie.

She heaves herself up, shutting off the TV and picking up our dinner plates.

It’s a different kind of dance to the one she used to do, but it’s just as graceful. Just as practised and refined.

She bends down to kiss me on the head.

‘You okay?’ she asks.

And I may not be able to sing, but I can do these moves with her, perfectly synchronized.

‘I’m wonderful,’ I smile.

41

Rowan

And now I am with someone who’s waiting outside the Aquatic Centre for me like I’m actually joining him there – not just via the internet. And there’s something lovely about that, especially as the wind is so strong that it’s whipping the sea over cars in the car park.

If I weren’t strapped to his chest, I’d run up to him. Hang off his arm.

‘Hi,’ I say instead.

Finally,

she’s online.

‘Shall we go in?’

I shout over the wind.

He doesn’t wait for an answer and I’m pleased. We step between the glass doors and dive into a world of unopened post and cardboard boxes, a plastic shark hanging from the ceiling with its nose missing, and I can’t help but think –

I’m home.

I’ve never seen such a dump.

‘It’s a tenner to come in here?’

For that, I could

feed Jonah and me for

two whole days.

‘Just you wait.’