“Just like that. Good girl,” Clive says softly, knelt on the ground watching as his daughter clumsily strokes Torgal’s fur. She has his eyes and your whole face, and when he looks at her, it’s like he’s looking at a dream he never thought possible.

Now his baby is already nine months old and learning to walk. The whole Hideaway loves and cherishes her, none more so than Clive who spoils her and brings her things from his travels. His gaze flickers back to you and a small smile forms on his face. “To think, just yesterday she could fit in one of my hands,” he says, eyes impossibly tender.