How could any man just switch off his love for a little girl? Unless his ‘love’ had been little more than vanity?

Gino tried to get into the mind of a man who could simply abandon a child like an unwanted puppy, at the very moment when she needed him most. But he couldn’t do it. All he could feel was helpless rage which he concealed behind a smile.

It was the child who turned the pages back to the last picture where the man could be seen.

‘That was Daddy,’ she said softly, touching the face.

‘Yes,’ Gino said, floundering for something to say. ‘He looks-he looks-quite a fellow.’

‘He taught me to swim. He said he’d teach me to draw one day, when I was older. Only he died.’

‘Died?’ Gino couldn’t keep the astonishment out of his voice.

‘Yes, he’s dead,’ Nikki said calmly. ‘My daddy’s dead.’

Gino drew a long breath, sensing that he was walking across eggshells.

‘He’d have been proud of that drawing you showed me,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’

She beamed. ‘Daddy was good at drawing. I want to be as good as Daddy.’

‘I’m sure you will be,’ he said lamely. It was the best he could manage while his mind was whirling. Nikki seemed satisfied.

But she had another bombshell for him. As she closed the album she whispered, ‘Don’t tell Mum what we talked about. She doesn’t know that I know, and I don’t want to worry her.’

He nodded, bereft of speech. He was aghast.

When Nikki had gone to bed he took a walk through the quiet streets. The last of the summer night was fading, and by the time he was ready to turn back it was completely dark.

Just ahead of him was a pub, with a sign proclaiming The Running Sheep, and he felt in need of a beer after this evening. Inside, it was a small, attractive place with a pleasant, old-fashioned atmosphere. The barman sold him a pint of bitter, and he went to sit at a table in the corner.