The three tellers were watching.

There was an elderly man at the second window with a deposit slip who had stopped filling it in.

I picked up the towel and the book and walked past my father without looking at his face, which is a thing I had done perhaps forty times in my life and which I have not had to do since.

He followed me into the car park.

He put his hand on the top of my car door while I was sitting in it, and leaned down, and said in a completely different voice — low, and reasonable, and this is the voice that frightens me — “Your grandmother was a confused old woman who didn’t understand how any of this works.