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      “You mean, like … he’s a spy, or something?”

      I said, “Sort of.”

      “You mean he works for MI5?”

      “I can’t tell you,” I said. “It’s confidential.”

      It was so confidential I’m not sure that even Mum knew. ‘Cos one time when I asked her she said, in this weary voice, that my guess was as good as hers. I said, “Mum, he’s not a … a criminal, is he?”

      It was something that had been worrying me. I had these visions of Dad climbing up drainpipes and going through windows and helping himself to stuff from people’s houses. Tellies and videos and jewellery, and stuff. I didn’t imagine him holding up petrol stations or anything like that; I didn’t think he would ever be violent. Mum was the violent one, if anyone was! She was the one who threw things. But I was really scared that he might be a thief. I was quite relieved when Mum gave this short laugh and said, “Nothing so energetic! You have to have staying power for that … you have to be organised. That’s the last thing you could accuse your dad of!” She said that Dad was an “opportunist”.

      “He just goes along for the ride.”

      I said, “You mean, he gets on trains without a ticket?”

      “Something like that,” said Mum.

      “Oh, well! That’s not so bad,” I said.

      “It’s not so good, either,” said Mum.

      She sounded very bitter. I didn’t like it when Mum sounded bitter. This was my dad she was talking about! My dad, who bought us trampolines and camcorders. Mum never bought us anything like that. I was still only little when we had this conversation, when I got worried in case Dad was a criminal; I mean, I was still at Juniors. I was in Year 8 by the time Mum threw the frying pan. I still loved Dad, I still hated it when Mum got bitter, but I was beginning to understand why she did. There were moments when I felt really sorry for Mum. She tried so hard! And just as she thought she’d got everything back on track, like paying off the arrears on the gas bill, or saving up for a new cooker, Dad would go and blow it all. He didn’t mean to! It was like he just couldn’t stop himself.

      The day after Mum threw the frying pan, Dad left home. The Afterthought said that Mum got rid of him, and I think for once she may have been right. Mum was certainly very fed up. She said that Dad spending her cooker money was the last straw.

      I don’t think that she and Dad had a row; at any rate, I never heard any sounds of shouting. I think she simply told him to go, and he went. He was there when we left for school in the morning – and gone by the time we got back. Mum sat us down at the kitchen table and broke the news to us.

      “Your dad and I have decided to live apart. You’ll still see him – he’s still your dad – but we’re just not going to be living together any more. It’s best for all of us.”

      Well! Mum may have thought it was best, but me and the Afterthought were stunned. How could Dad leave us, just like that? Without any warning? Without even saying goodbye?

      “It was Mum,” sobbed the Afterthought. “She threw him out!”

      That was what Dad said, too, when he rang us later that same evening. He said, “Well, kids —” we were both listening in, me on the extension “ —it looks like this is it for your poor old dad. Given my marching orders! Seems I’ve upset her Royal Highness just once too often. Now she won’t have me in the house any more.”

      Dad was trying to make light of it, ‘cos that was Dad. He was always joking and fooling around, he never took anything seriously. But I could tell he was quite shaken. I don’t think he ever dreamt that Mum would really throw him out. Always, in the past, he’d managed to get round her. They’d kiss and make up, and Mum would end up laughing, in spite of herself, and saying that Dad was shameless. But not this time! This time, he’d really blown it.

      “She’s had enough of me,” said Dad. “She doesn’t love me any more.”

      “Dad, I’m sure she does!” I said.

      “She doesn’t, Steph. She told me … Daniel Rose, I’ve had it with you. You get out of my life once and for all. Those were her words. That’s what she said to me. I’ve had it with you.”

      Oh, Dad, I thought, stop! I can’t bear it!

      “She’s a cow!” shrieked the Afterthought, all shrill.

      “No, Sam. Never say that about your mum. She’s had a lot to put up with.”

      “So have you!” shrieked the Afterthought.

      “Ah, well … I’ve probably deserved it,” said Dad. He was being ever so meek about it all. Taking the blame, not letting us say anything bad about Mum. Meek wasn’t like my dad! But that, somehow, just made it all the worse, what she’d done to him.

      “Dad, what are you going to do?” I said.

      “I don’t know, Steph, and that’s a fact. I’m a bit shaken up just at the moment. Got to get my act together.”

      “Shall I try asking Mum if she’ll let you come back?”

      “Better hadn’t. Only set her off again.”

      “But you don’t want to go, do you, Dad?”

      “Want to? What do you think?” said Dad. “Go and leave my two girls? It’s breaking my heart, Pusskin!”

      He had me crying, in the end. If he’d been spitting blood, like Mum, I wouldn’t have felt quite so bad about it. I mean, I’d still have felt utterly miserable at the thought of him not being with us, but at least I’d have understood that he and Mum just couldn’t go on living together any more. But Dad still thought Mum was the bee’s knees! It’s what he’d always called her: the bee’s knees. He wasn’t the one that wanted to break up. It was Mum who was ruining everything.

      “Couldn’t you just give him one last chance?” I begged.

      “Stephanie, I have lost count of all the last chances I’ve given that man,” said Mum. “I’m sorry, but enough is enough. He has turned my life into turmoil!”

      It is very upsetting, when one of your parents suddenly isn’t there any more; it’s like a big black hole. The poor old Afterthought took it very hard. She went into a crying fit that lasted for days, and when she couldn’t cry

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