My mother’s voice cracked through the phone, high and frantic. “Our realtor just called your father. He says the seller is pulling out of the bungalow. You can’t do this to us!” I told her, calmly, that the ownership transfer had never happened and the house was still mine. She went silent, and I heard the phone being handed over, fumbled, almost dropped.

When Dad spoke, he did not sound like the man who had said everything was easier without me. His voice was small and shaking. “Please don’t hang up. We sold our house three weeks ago. The new owners get the keys on Saturday, and we have nowhere else to go.” Then he lowered his voice and told me the real reason they had kept me away from Christmas.