Here you are, arriving late home again after work. This was the same excuse as it usually had been these past few weeks, you had ‘gone shopping’ and it had taken you an hour to get only one lousy bag of groceries.

Price was lazing on the sofa with your daughter, Amy, watching cartoons as you came through the door. “Evening, love,” he says gruffly.

His eyes tell you all you need to know — he isn’t fully trusting of your ‘shopping trips’, but he can’t confront you with Amy around.