"Hey Dad."

Alfred was standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing only a pair of ratty plaid pyjama bottoms. Arthur watched him disconnectedly as he took a carton of soya milk and drank straight from it.

"I'm going to be late at school today," Alfred said, wiping an off-white streak from his upper lip. "I've got football practice."

"You're on the team, then? Jolly good," Arthur said quietly. He wished that he didn't sound so disinterested. "Alfred..."

"Yeah?"

"How long has your brother been..."

He couldn't even finish the sentence. Part of his throat closed up and left him mute.

"Maddie's just as she's always been," Alfred said shortly. "And I'm sure she'd prefer it if you talked to her about it rather than me."

"But how long have you known about this without telling me?"

"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have been the one to tell you in the first place," Alfred said, and turned to Arthur before going up the stairs. "She wants you to understand, not just to know. Talk to her."

He bounded upstairs to get dressed, and left without a word.