Following my nocturnal activity, I must have slept soundly because I wake at 8.15 feeling well rested. I can’t hear any activity in the house, so, not wanting to wake my parents, I tiptoe through to the bathroom to wash away any remaining drowsiness before returning to my room to put on jeans and a sweatshirt. I sneak downstairs to the kitchen and flick on the kettle so I can make tea.
Before it has time to boil, Dad appears behind me. He looks fresh and rested, his colour restored. He closes the door quietly and whispers, “Your mum isn’t awake yet. I’m sorry about last night. I came on a bit strong. I shouldn’t have. It’s because what you told us came as such a shock.”
I’m uncertain whether he’s talking about the interrogation I was given by him and Mum, or his threatening outbursts lat
