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‘Oh my God, Dad!’

‘I’m sorry, Fliss. Come in. Let’s talk.’

Fliss moved automatically through the familiar narrow hallway, seeing but not taking in the old-fashioned shoe rack and framed school pictures on the wall. The living room felt emptier than usual, the bookshelves largely empty and her mother’s ornaments missing. Fliss wondered with horror if her father had already begun the process of sorting through his possessions and getting rid of anything he no longer needed.

She sank down on the sofa whilst her father sat down in his usual chair, exactly as Fliss had pictured him during their calls, the landline on the table beside him, next to a framed photograph of the three of them during happier times. His face was incredibly pale and drawn, his eyes huge in his sunken face.

When Fliss eventually spoke, her voice shook. ‘Dad? W-what’s going on?’

‘I should have told you sooner, Fliss, but I wanted to tell you in person, and then …’

‘Then I was so preoccupied with work I didn’t come to see you.’ There was a sick feeling in her stomach.

‘None of that, pet, it’s not your fault,’ John said, in his soft Northumbrian burr. ‘I could have asked you to come sooner. But I didn’t want to spoil things for you. I’m so proud of how well you’ve been doing. Your mum would be too.’

Fliss bit her lip to keep from crying. She wanted to be strong for her father. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s lung cancer. You and Jacqui always told me I needed to give up smoking. And you were right.’ He smiled weakly and Fliss wanted to sob. ‘I haven’t got long – could be a few months, or more likely a few weeks. The doctors didn’t want to commit. I have good days and bad days, y’know …’

‘I can’t believe I didn’t know! I should have come sooner, I should have looked after you …’ Waves of guilt washed over Fliss, remembering the times she had called to tell him her frivolous bits of news, prattling on about work or about Kit. And all the time he was dealing alone with the diagnosis, visiting the hospital, undergoing painful, invasive tests and treatments.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ John said gently. ‘You’re a young woman, living your life. That’s exactly how it should be. Not wasting your time fussing over me.’

‘Are they absolutely sure that there’s no cure? Isn’t there anything they can try? They’re always coming up with new treatments …’

Her father looked down at the old-fashioned carpet, his positive demeanour faltering for a moment, and Fliss knew what he was going to say. ‘It’s spread, love. Had done so even before I went for the tests, they reckon. It’s – it’s everywhere so there’s not a lot they can do except try and manage the pain.’

‘Dad …’ Fliss rushed over to him, unable to hold back any longer. The floodgates opened and he held her whilst she sobbed, his scruffy old jumper becoming wet with tears. He felt so frail and weak in her arms that it was almost impossible to believe that this was the same man who had swung her high into the air as a child, who had carried her for miles on his shoulders when she was too exhausted to walk, who had run alongside her right across the park when she was learning to ride a bike. Now he looked as though he could barely make it across the room.

John waited patiently whilst Fliss cried, handing her tissues and stroking her hair, but as her tears subsided he became agitated once again.

‘Fliss …’ he said, and there was something in his tone that made her look up through shining wet eyes. ‘… there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

Fliss swallowed. It was clearly something serious and she didn’t think she could take any more shocks today. But what more could her father possibly have to tell her? ‘What is it?’

‘Take a seat. You might need it.’

Fear clutching at her stomach, Fliss did as she was told, moving back to her place on the sofa. She didn’t take her eyes off her father the whole time, as though he might suddenly vanish, taking his secret with him.

John exhaled slowly, scrabbling around on the side table for a blister pack of pills. He popped one out and drank it down with the glass of water beside them. He took another deep breath, before he spoke. ‘You know that your mum and I met in London …’

Fliss nodded.

‘Well, we … We weren’t entirely honest with you about the circumstances. But trust me, Fliss, we did it for a good reason.’

Fliss frowned, not understanding where her father was going with this story.

‘The first time I met your mother, she was five months pregnant … With you …’

Chapter 28

It took Fliss a moment to realise what he was saying, and then she gasped.

‘She wasn’t showing yet and I didn’t realise at first. We got chatting in a pub in Marylebone and she thought I’d vanish the second I found out. But I didn’t. I stuck by her …’

Fliss’s world was spinning, she thought she might faint.

‘S-so you’re not …?’