Fox opened the lid of the box and lifted out a handful of snaps. Some had writing on the back: names, dates, places. But there were question marks, too. Lots of question marks… and something that looked like a tear stain. Fox rubbed a finger across it, then turned the photo over. His mother dandled a child on either knee. She was seated on the edge of a rockery.

‘This one only goes back thirty years,’ Fox said, holding the photo up for his father to see. Mitch peered at it.

‘Blackpool maybe,’ he said. ‘You and Jude…’

‘And Mum.’

Mitch Fox nodded slowly. ‘Any water there?’ he asked. Fox looked, but there was no jug on the bedside cabinet. ‘Get me some, will you?’

Fox went into the adjoining bathroom. The jug was there, along with a plastic tumbler. He reckoned the staff didn’t want Mitchell Fox guzzling water at night, not if it meant trouble in the morning. The pack of incontinence pads sat in full view next to the sink. Fox filled jug and tumbler both and took them through.

‘Good lad,’ his father said. A few drops dribbled from his chin as he drank, but he needed no help placing the drained tumbler next to him by the bed. ‘You’ll tell Jude not to worry?’

‘Sure.’ Fox sat down again.

‘And you’ll manage to do it without falling out?’

‘I’ll try my best.’

‘Takes two to make an argument.’

‘You sure about that? I think Jude could have a pretty good go in an empty room.’

‘Maybe so, but you don’t always help.’

‘Is this you and me arguing now?’ Fox watched his father give a tired smile. ‘Want me to go so you can get back to sleep?’

‘I don’t sleep. I just lie here, waiting.’

Fox knew what the answer to his next question would be, so he didn’t ask it. Instead, he told his father that he’d just spent a fruitless day over in Fife.