‘Yes.’ I wonder why he wants to know: I wish I knew how this will end. Perhaps I asked this question because he reaches out and grips my wrist. Hard. Oh, how quickly we revert to the old days. I think I might even tell him he’s hurting me, just to reminisce. That’s all it would be because it certainly wouldn’t make him stop – it never did.

Then I look at his hand, consider what he’s just said, think of the speed in which Nick sped off. ‘What did you do, Jack? Where is your dad?’

He lets go of me. ‘He’s on an errand.’

Now that he’s here, I’ve got the perfect opportunity to talk to him. To buy time until I can figure something out – some way of saving Jack from him – but also because I suspect I might never get another opportunity to try to get answers for the thousand questions I have about my son. ‘Now it’s just us, maybe we could talk a little more. Perhaps we could be honest about a few more things.’

‘Like what?’

‘I just want to know where we all went wrong for us.’

‘Do you mean why I’m different?’

I’m surprised – I’ve never heard him acknowledge that he’s different before. I wasn’t even sure that he knew. I’m not sure if it’s a trap. I play safe and raise one eyebrow: ‘Different from . . .?’

‘Oh, don’t pretend. Or is this your way of being tactful?’

I don’t say anything.

‘Let me help you out. You’re wondering why I just don’t really care about anyone? You’re wondering if it’s something you’ve done. Oh!’ he says, raising his voice to mimic me again. ‘Oh! Are you all right? Poor little Jack! Poor baby! But don’t mind me while I –’ his face twists in fury and his voice drops an octave – ‘while I drift into a drug-induced haze for a few hours and leave you all alone with nothing to do and no one to play with!’

I hold my breath. I’m scared of him, but I’m even more scared of the truth being reviewed like this. I thought I wanted honesty.

‘But you don’t want to hear that, do you? I’ll tell you instead that it was fine; you were fine. It was all fine. I just don’t care. I never have.’