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‘And then what?’ she says.

‘At which point did someone chop those last two trees down and plonk the noticeboard there instead?

‘You’re not understanding the point—’

‘That’s a horrible, awful story. Who came up with itanyway? I’m no book nerd, but I know a plot hole when I see one, and this story is the Swiss cheese of plot holes. It makes no sense.’

Miss M tuts in disapproval, then sniffs the air. ‘Do you smell that? I think someone’s eating pizza.’

‘Thanks, Miss M,’ I say and place a kiss on her papery cheek, grateful for the distraction she offered. Grateful to have her in my life.

‘Silly boy! Think about what I just told you. You might learn something!’ she shouts as I dash out the door.

The smell of olive oil on warm bread fills the staircase, and I almost fall down the steps in my rush to get back to our flat.

‘How’s Miss M?’ Dad asks when I enter the lounge.

‘She told me to ask Simo for his hand in marriage unless I want to turn into an apple tree.’ Dad nods, like he expected nothing less. ‘Um, I know we eat a lot, but this –’ I wave to the tower of boxes on the coffee table – ‘will feed us for a week.’

‘Tell that to Daniel. I asked for two margheritas, and I got pear and Gorgonzola, honey and chilli, Parmesan and rucola, a load of garlic bread, a bowl of pumpkin ravioli and half a tray of tiramisu, plus salad and a ton of olives.’

My eyes dart from him to the food and back again. ‘If I can just throw this out there . . .’

‘Don’t,’ Dad warns.

‘. . . I’d say Daniel likes you.’

We’ve not exchanged banter like this in a minute, but Dad’s lips twitch in a way that shows me he’s OK.

‘He just feels guilty for drinking all my coffee.’

‘Or he likes you.’

‘Eat and be quiet, child.’ He holds up a fork and a bowl of ravioli, and because I’m happy to be bribed with pasta, I do as I’m told.

Two hours later, Cate Blanchett’s performance as Carol, a mother who falls for a younger woman but is trapped in a straight marriage, has me crying into my dessert. Dad keeps dabbing his eyes with his sleeve.

‘Carol’s right, you know,’ he says with a croaky voice.

‘Huh?’ I say, and wipe my nose with a tissue.

‘What she says about being a parent. How she can’t be a good mum if she lives against her own nature.’

‘Dad, I literally just stopped crying.’

‘No, listen.’ He turns to me, his face serious. ‘When you were born, I didn’t just come out for myself. I came out for you. For my son, who should never be anyone but himself. How could I be a good example to you if I was scared of myself? As a teenager, I’d felt so much shame. My parents made it clear that a gay son wasn’t going to be tolerated beneath their roof. They might have come a long way, but I’m having a hard time letting go of years of fear and mistrust. As you might have noticed. That’s why, when I knew I was going to be a dad, I made a promise that you wouldn’t have to feel shame for anything ever. And in that way, you freed me.’

‘Dad,’ I say, but that’s all I get out before I have to reach for another tissue. I can see that he’s struggling from the way he takes several long breaths before he continues.

‘Poppy and I had a deal. Once you were born, we’d stop pretending. We weren’t meant to be a couple, and we didn’twant that to come between us being friends. We were so much better as friends. I didn’t expect it, but I loved being a dad. I loved my little family of three, and I’d never been happier. For the first time I didn’t pretend to be someone else. I had Poppy and I had you. That’s all I needed.’

He reaches out and wipes my cheek with his thumb. For a few seconds, he keeps it there, before his expression clouds over. ‘Leave it to my parents to destroy my little utopia. But it’s not their fault, is it? Not entirely. I thought I’d changed since leaving them behind, but a minute in their presence and I fall into old habits. I don’t like who I become around them. And once again, it was you who reminded me that I can’t give up on myself, because that would mean giving up on you. And in this life, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.’

He lifts an arm, and I don’t hesitate. I snuggle close, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He places his chin on my head and holds me until I run out of tears.

‘Your mum also gave me a good talking to. Called me an anger muppet.’

‘She never lectures me, you know.’