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Half an hour later, they were wandering through the middle of town with the dog trotting along beside them, his lead in Lauren’s left hand and Carly’s hand in her right. They’d decided to walk to the care home to burn off both the hangover and nerves.

Town was dead, the way it only was on New Year’s Day. Shuttered shops, a traffic cone on a bench, party popper streamers in the gutters. Nothing open, nobody about. The whole place looked like it was sleeping one off.

Carly used the quiet to plan.

Introductions first. Dad, then Lauren, then the dog. No. Berkeley first, because Berkeley would decide the matter himself the second the door opened, and a plan that ignored the dog wasn’t a plan. Then Lauren. Keep it short. Dad, this is Lauren. Not my girlfriend, not yet, not because it wasn’t true but because Samantha would be watching, and words at that table had a way of being minuted.

Then lunch. Then whatever came after lunch. She built the running order twice, found the weak points, built a contingency for each. It was easier than thinking about the part where all of it happened in the same room: her dad, her sisters, her girlfriend, his dog. She had spent two years keeping those things in separate compartments, visiting them one at a time, and in about twenty minutes the walls were coming out whether she was ready or not.

At the corner by the bank, Berkeley tried to turn left.

Lauren checked him gently and glanced back. “He wants to go somewhere.”

“The gym.” Carly watched him give up on the turn and fall back into step. “He walked it with Dad every morning.”

Lauren didn’t say anything to that. She shortened the lead and rubbed his ear at the next kerb, and Carly had to look at the shop windows for a while.

Years of left at the bank. Nobody had told the dog.

The care home appeared at the end of the road, red brick behind bare trees, a wreath still on the entrance arch.

Carly’s legs wanted to slow down. She didn’t let them.

“Ready?” Lauren asked.

“No,” Carly said, but she kept walking.

39

Lauren

Only having one parent to meet should have been a relief. It wasn’t. Apart from Paige’s mum, Lauren had never met anyone’s parents, and she was starting with the man Carly had followed into the army and come home from it for. Everyone in this family was arranged around him. In an hour she’d know whether she measured up to that, and so would everybody else.

Her grip tightened around Berkeley’s lead as they reached the care home car park.

Beth was already there. She’d parked facing the building and was sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine off, and Lauren couldn’t tell how long she’d been like that. Then she got out and strode towards them in a pair of jackboots, her chin tucked into a long black mohair coat, looking like she was here to carry out a hit rather than share a cosy cup of tea with family.

“Is she here yet?” Beth asked, no greeting.

Lauren looked from one to the other. Maybe she wasn’t going to be the source of any tension after all.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Carly surveyed the smattering of vehicles. “I can’t see her car, so you might be in luck.”

“Thank goodness Samantha didn’t join the military too, or she might be on time.” Beth turned to address Lauren. “Brace yourself. Our father is about to become the last of your problems.”

Carly squeezed Lauren’s hand. “Don’t listen to her.”

“No. Listen to me.” Beth glanced up at the building, then away again. “And save yourself now, if you can.”

Lauren looked over at the red brick and the entrance arch, adorned with a Christmas wreath that might have felt welcoming under other circumstances. She hadn’t even considered Samantha until now. They’d met once, at the gym’s relaunch, and Lauren had come away with the distinct impression that Carly’s steel-eyed stare was the warm version.

Carly stopped a few feet short of the doors. Lauren went ahead and held one open for her.

Then, at reception, Berkeley tried to go on ahead too.

Lauren moved her hand along his lead to rein him back in. “Steady,” she said. He tried again, so she told him to sit. He sat, but he didn’t take his eyes off the lounge area revealed behind full-height panes of glass. He wasn’t sniffing the air or casting about the way he did somewhere new. He was watching one particular chair.

“Dad,” Carly said, once she’d finished signing them in.