I’d assumed his competence with practical tasks meant we shared the same ideas about comfort.

The next morning Dad and Mabel returned from the garden with a paper bag of souvenirs and a story about a butterfly that landed on his hat.

Mabel climbed into my lap and told me every detail.

Halfway through she stopped and glanced toward the hallway.

‘Is it okay if I sit here even though I’m big?’ I said yes.

She stayed until she grew restless and went to build a tower out of blocks.