57 The short drive home from the station to my parents’ house is tinged with an odd atmosphere. It takes me a few moments to work out what it is, but I realise it’s probably down to the way things were left the last time I saw Mum and Dad, when I asked them to leave after they turned up at my house out of the blue. The timing was dreadful, not that I’ve been having any particularly fantastic times recently. ‘Look, I just wanted to say sorry about last time,’ I say, punctuating the silence. I hate having to apologise for anything. Generally speaking, I try to avoid doing anything that means I’m going to have to apologise in the first place. ‘Don’t worry about it. I told your mum we shouldn’t turn up unannounced. She wouldn’t like it if someone did it to her.’ I can tell we’re both think

