I sat beside her on the carpet.

‘Where would you like to stand?’ She pointed at my side, then glanced at the picture as though she’d made an unreasonable request.

I took a crayon and drew her beside me, with her hand inside mine.

She smiled, but when I asked whether the picture was better, she said, ‘Matthew says I can’t always stand there.’

The following day I called my father and almost told him I was frightened.

Instead I asked whether he’d pick up the cake stand from the bakery.