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Emilia continued to stare at her father in disbelief, scarcely taking in his words. He had tried to explain his situation, to flesh out the details of his condition, but Emilia could only think about why he was telling her this. What he might stand to gain from this sudden confession.

‘Look, back up a bit, will you?’ she demanded. ‘Have you got any proof that this is actually real ?’

‘You think I’m bullshitting you?’ her father fired back. ‘Of course I’ve got proof . You can check with the prison medical staff. I’ve … I’ve got stage four lung cancer. It’s my own stupid fault, of course, but there it is. They say I’ve got three months left, six tops.’

Emilia stared at him. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting from today’s meeting, but it wasn’t this .

‘Look, I haven’t asked you here to perform miracles, Emilia. I’ve got several years left on my sentence. Even if I tried to get that commuted because of my illness, I’d be dead before anyone got near considering my case. I’m going to die in this place and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

Despite herself, Emilia felt a pang of compassion. Her father deserved to suffer for what he’d done to her, but even so, dying in this crumbling dump was a pitiful way to go.

‘I don’t want your sympathy, nor do I expect your love,’ he continued. ‘But I would like to do what I can to make up for the past. I … I want to die with a clear conscience.’

‘And you think you can do that by offering me an apology?’ Emilia scoffed.

‘There’s nothing you can possibly say that could make up for the way you exploited us, the way you abandoned us.

Your arrest killed Mum, you do know that, don’t you?

And who was left to pick up the pieces? To bring up your children? ’

Ernesto dropped his gaze to his feet, his shame clear. As he did so, the prison bell rang loudly in the background, signalling the end of visiting time, but Emilia wasn’t finished yet.

‘So, forgive me if I don’t go all gooey when you offer up a mea culpa. Words are cheap, Dad, it’s actions that count. And throughout your life you’ve not done a single thing – not one thing – that’s helped us. All you did was hurt us and that’s something you’ll have to live – and die – with.’

Had she been expecting those words to crush her father? That her damning verdict would render him speechless and tearful? If so, she was to be disappointed, her father nodding thoughtfully, as he replied:

‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Emilia. You are a chip off the old block.’

Emilia shook her head angrily, dismissing the notion.

‘But I do think there is a way I can help you. That’s why I asked you here. But it must remain between you and me for now. You cannot under any circumstances tell your brothers and sisters. It’s our secret, OK?’

He angled a glance at the prison officers, who were now starting to move the visitors on. Leaning in closer, Ernesto lowered his voice as he continued:

‘Come back again tomorrow and I’ll tell you how I intend to help you. Trust me, it’ll be worth your while …’

Emilia looked at her father, confused and unsettled, fighting the curiosity that was bubbling inside her.

‘What do you mean, Dad? What are you talk—’

But Ernesto had already risen, turning back briefly to place a meaningful finger to his lips, before taking his place amongst the departing throng.