I happen to be out front, talking with my doormen, when a car pulls up, the window slides open, and Alastair leans across from the driver's seat.
"Alright to park in the yard?" he asks.
I nod. "I'll let you in the back way."
He drives round the side, and I go back inside the club, behind the bar into the corridor. I step into the kitchen for a moment: Steven is leaning on the island, glugging a glass of water while he scrolls on his phone.
He straightens up when he sees me.
"Ain't skiving," he says. "This is the first time I've had, like, two seconds' break. I've just sent six plates up, just now."
"I won't sack you, then." We smile, then I nod to the kitchen window as a car's headlights slide across it. "That's Alastair, though. You better look busy."
"Oh, right."
I wink at Steven. "Later, alligator."
I leave him, and go and open the back door.
"Perfect timing," Alastair says. "How are you, Brendan?"
We shake hands, and he comes in.
"Coming to my office?"
"No, no. I came the other day, and Maria kindly let me run my eyes over the books – she'll have told you, I'm sure."
"She did. Let me take you upstairs in that case, get you a drink." I lead the way up the back staircase to the members' floor.
"I shan't stay for long," Alastair says. "Just wanted to touch base with you as I'm in the area."
"I'll join you in a minute," I tell him. "In the mean time, I'll leave you in Sophie's capable hands. Sophie – whatever Alastair wants to drink, please, and find him somewhere to sit."
"Sure," Sophie says, and she smiles at him and says, "Welcome back. What can I get you?"
I leave them talking across the bar.
Maria is greeting outside the members' door.
"Alastair's inside," I say to her. "I brought him in the back way."
"Oh, okay. Do I need to keep him company?"
"He's on his own, but no, Sophie's got it covered – I'm just gonna get the builder's quote, then I'll be up. He says it's a flying visit, anyways."
I go downstairs and edge my way to the office and back again. Open my jacket when I'm back upstairs, to show Maria the quotation letter in my inside pocket.
"Good luck," she says.
I spot Alastair sitting at an out-of-the-way table, and Sophie is standing talking to him. I go over.
"You'll have a drink, Brendan?" Alastair says.
He's got a cup of coffee. I say to Sophie, "I'll have the same. Thank you."
"Won't be a minute," she says, and off she goes.
I sit.
I want to know why Alastair is here.
"I'm sorry I missed you when you dropped by the other day," I say.
"Not at all. How was your weekend break?"
"Good."
"Maria mentioned it was your anniversary. I don't think I was aware how recently married you were when you started working here."
"No reason why you should'a been." I look round to the bar: Sophie has poured my coffee. "I'll save her the trip," I say, and I get up and go and get it, hoping Alastair will come to his point when I return.
He does.
"I won't take up much of your time, Brendan, as I said. I just wanted to catch up, as it's coming up to a year since you started your job here."
"End of January, yeah," I say. "Or a couple of weeks before that, if you count shadowing your man before I took over from him."
"Of course, yes." He puts down his coffee cup, leans back in his seat, looks at me. "You know, when I hired you, I would've bet good money on you not being here a year later."
"Why – did you think I'd quit? Or get myself fired?"
"I thought you might quit. Going by your work history, which wasn't exactly linear, or conventional. In fact, aside from what you told me about the club you'd owned and run previously, all I knew was what our mutual friend Debbie told me when she suggested you for this job. She said you turned around the fortunes of the club you managed in Liverpool, in challenging circumstances – "
"She was right about that – it was a dive when I got there, and by the time I left, it was... Put it this way: there were fewer fights."
"That's what Debbie told me." He pauses, then he says, "She also told me that you left that club without telling anyone you were going."
Okay.
"I got the that job on a handshake – didn't break my contract when I left, because I never had one. Whereas I signed a contract with you."
"You didn't strike me as a man who would stay put if he didn't want to, contract or not."
"Yet still you hired me..."
He laughs. "Call it instinct. I've never set much store by a polished CV. Although I didn't stop suspecting you might leave, until the day you approached me with Ste's proposal for the kitchen. I thought, if you were thinking along those lines, you wouldn't be intending to do a moonlight flit."
"I might have, if you'd said no to him," I say.
:::::::
I've shown Alastair the figures for the work on the staff room, and now I'm downstairs with him, and I've talked him through the plan in situ, so he can visualise it.
"As you can see," I say, "It's overdue. Far as I can see, all it's had in the past is a new coat of paint."
"I do see what you mean."
"I can get more quotes if you want, only this outfit made a good job of the kitchen, and we know they show up and get it done."
"The quote looks fair to me," says Alastair. "Would you be able to open as normal while the staff room is out of action?"
"Yep. We'll make temporary arrangements – move the lockers to my office, and so forth. Make sure the builders clear the corridor when they pack up each day. It'll be a fast job, anyways."
"I can't say it doesn't need upgrading. Go ahead, then, Brendan. Email me when you need the money transferred over."
"Appreciated."
"Who's cooking tonight? Ste?"
"He is."
"I'll say hello to him before I go."
"By all means." I lead the way into the kitchen; Steven is busy this time, arranging food onto plates laid out on the island. "Visitor," I say to him.
"Oh, hiya. Alright?"
"Evening, Ste. Don't let me interrupt."
Steven continues what he's doing, but he's self-conscious now that he knows he's being watched.
"Alastair's just come to say hello."
He loads the plates into the dumb waiter, and sends it up.
"It's good to see you back in action," says Alastair. "It was quite a scare you had, I hear."
"We never closed the kitchen, though. We was always open, weren't we, with Pearl, plus Tony – he's my mate, but he's a proper chef an' all, so it weren't like I just went off without someone being here to do the..."
He trails off when – out of Alastair's eyeline – I shake my head at him. Steven doesn't have to justify himself to Alastair, or anyone.
"Kitchen's doing good business," I say. "Not just the Christmas and New Year spike, either. Maria will have talked you through the numbers on the Members' side – members coming more often, and staying longer when they do. The food service is instrumental in that."
Alastair nods. "It was a good direction to take. A good investment."
:::::::
I don't get a chance to chat with Steven for the rest of the night – it's Friday, busy – but when I get home and I'm stood in the kitchen, eating the sandwich he's left for me, he appears from bed, hugging his dressing gown around him.
I put my arm out for him and he pads across in his socks, and I kiss his hair. He smells good.
"Thanks for the sandwich," I say.
"You're welcome."
The only light I've switched on is one of the ones under the cabinets, just so I could see to pour my whiskey; still, it's dark enough that we keep our voices low.
"You didn't have to get up."
"I woke up anyway."
"Okay." I eat, one-handed, my other arm around him; his arms round my middle, holding himself up, I think, because he's half asleep. "So, Alastair didn't sack me, anyways..."
Steven looks at me. "Did you think he was gonna?"
"No. I dunno. No. Maybe it crossed my mind..."
"Why?"
"The timing. Half way through my contract, ain't I."
"I know. But why would that mean he was gonna sack you?"
"It don't mean he was gonna. He could'a, though. There's a break clause at twelve months, is all."
"What does that mean?"
"Means he could end it, without having to go through a process. A window of opportunity, so to speak. I could, too, come to that."
"End it? You don't want to, though, do you?"
"No."
"But you were worried that he might?"
"Not worried, exactly, no. Just, it was a possibility."
"Why would he, though? You're doing a good job."
"Thank you." I give Steven a smile for his vote of confidence; sip my drink. "You never know, though. It's not been smooth sailing – wrong kind of publicity I've brought him, whatever."
"Yeah, but that was ages ago now."
"He started talking about when he gave me the job, y'know? Said he thought I'd walk out, right at the start."
"That dun't make sense, for a start. You needed the job, didn't you."
"Because no one else wanted me, you mean?"
Steven shoves me. I manage to keep hold of my sandwich.
"That's not what I mean," he says. "I mean, because it was, like, perfect. If you had to have a job, what could've been better than this one, eh? He lets you get on with it, dun't he. I mean, I don't think anybody even thinks about Alastair being the actual owner, except if he turns up. Ask anyone who the boss is, they'd say you."
"Who's the boss?"
Slight smile, slight roll of the eyes: "You."
"Good." I offer him a taste of my whiskey; he declines, so I drink it myself. "Remember Deborah?"
"The one that told Alastair about you, that knew you from whatsisname's club?"
"Yeah. Well, he mentioned her tonight – apparently she told him how I left whatsisname's club, when she was first suggesting me for the job."
"How did you leave there?"
"Walked out without telling anyone I was going, is all. I'm surprised it didn't put Alastair off, that out."
"Well, he wanted you, didn't he. You was obviously the right person. I mean, if you think about it, yeah, he must've known that club was dodgy, cos he's in the club business, so he would've heard things, plus Debbie would've told him, because they're friends. He must've thought, yeah, if Brendan Brady can manage that place, he can manage anywhere. And that's not changed, has it – he's not gonna give you the sack now."
I shrug. "Could'a been something else, though. The other fella could'a got tired of Melbourne and want his job back, for all I knew."
"The other manager, who you took over from?"
"Yeah. They're mates, ain't they, him and Alastair, so if he'd wanted to come back a year early..."
"You're just making that up, though, right? You've not heard nothing, like, rumours or anything?"
"No, nothing like that. Just, y'know, considering possible scenarios..."
Steven sighs. "I know why you're doing that, Brendan – it's because you think things are too good now, so something's got to go wrong. But that's not true, it's not how things work. Cos, like, crappy things happen to people who've already got crappy lives, don't they, even more than crappy things happen to people who've got nice lives. God's not sat there on his cloud, scratching his beard, thinking, 'Oh, look, Brendan and Ste have had an amazing anniversary, so I better get Brendan fired.' That's just stupid."
I laugh. I love him. I'm grateful.
"You're right, anyways. He's happy with the way things are."
"Who is? God?"
"Alastair."
"Oh." Steven laughs. The laugh turns into a yawn.
"Think you better get back to bed. I'll just have a shower, then I'll be in."
"Alright. Don't be long." He kisses my lips.
:::::::
He's not asleep when I get into bed. He makes room.
"We fetching the kids in the morning?" I ask.
"No, Amy's bringing them."
"Wee bit more of a lie-in, then. Good."
We're both wanting sleep. Got no idea of doing anything, only, our proximity stirs things up.
It does tend to do that.
He's just got his underpants on with his T-shirt, I find, when I stroke his backside as we're getting comfortable. Which is more than I've got on, having discarded my towel.
"Love you," he says.
"Love you too."
A goodnight kiss, which turns out not to be.
"You got a stiffy?" he says: he must have felt something when he cuddled up.
"Inadvertently," I say.
He smiles against my lips; says, "'Inadvertently'," and laughs briefly, softly.
I feel his crotch.
"What's this?" I draw a line along his dick with my finger.
He takes mine in his hand. Steven has got the hands of an artisan – clever and strong – but they stay soft from stroking his lotions all over his body every day.
It's pleasing, picturing that.
"Can you get the towel?" he says.
I roll out of bed, pick it off the floor where I dropped it, and give it to him. I can see him in the almost-dark, positioning it on the mattress.
"Give us your hand," I tell him.
I switch my bedside lamp on. Too bright, so I dim it. Get the lube, give him a squirt of it in his palm.
"Ta."
I get back into bed, and we grasp hands – his right, my left – to share the lubrication.
There's something to be said for a handjob. A lot, in fact.
You can see it all, for one thing. Your cock in his fist. His in yours, powerful and vulnerable, mesmerising and at your mercy. His face, looking down at what you're doing to him and at what he's doing to you, your feelings manifesting in your bodies, blatantly.
His face, when he looks at you: could be like he's thinking, ain't this ridiculous? Could be like he wants it slower, or faster. Could be like he thinks it's a competition. Could be thinking about this to put off thinking about something that's not so easy. Could be laughing. Whichever, whatever, it's shared.
This time, it ought to be a quick one because we're both after fast satisfaction to send us off to the sleep we need. Only, our tiredness makes our efforts lazy, and our reactions slow. We even stop at one point to rest and breathe. Laugh at ourselves, and kiss, and get back to it, and finally watch ourselves come.
:::::::
Steven gets a text from Amy's number in the morning.
"It's from the kids, look. Amy must be driving."
He shows me.
Hello it's me and Lucas. Mum says 10 minutes. Please can you come down to get our bikes and bring our bed chair so mum can take it back please. Mum can't stay she's got to go. Love from Leah
Plenty of emojis interspersed, naturally. Signed off with a few hearts.
The spare bed we borrowed for Declan over New Year, is still where it was when the lads left, folded into its chair form, although I don't think it's been sat on since then.
"Might as well take it downstairs now," I say. "I'll park it in the hallway down there if they're not here yet."
"Okay. I'll text and tell them to buzz when they get here, and we'll come and help put it in their car."
I close the chair up flat, and carry it down. Look out of the entrance door in case they've arrived, but they haven't, so I go back up.
"Ain't there yet," I say to Steven.
"Look, Brendan."
I look where he's pointing, at the place where the chair was. "What am I looking at?"
"Christmas tree spikes. What are they called? Needles? Christmas tree needles. Aw, that's a bit sad, seeing them left behind."
Nevertheless, he sweeps them into the dustpan.
"You didn't take all the lights down, I noticed..."
"Well, I did. But then, yeah, I put the ones in our bedroom up again. Cos they're blue, in't they, so they're not a Christmassy colour, like red and green or something, plus they look nice round that picture, so they're staying."
"Far be it from me to argue with the interior decorator..."
He laughs. "Well, in that case, I want curtains."
"Curtains?"
"Yeah. In here and in our room, anyway. Cos, have you seen the state of the blinds? It takes for ever to clean them properly, so we just don't, do we – just flick a duster over them, if that. You wouldn't notice with your bat eyes, but they're a bit grubby now. I reckon the people before us must've got proper cleaners in before they sold us the flat, but that was nearly a year ago. So, yeah, I want curtains instead. Like the hotel."
"Be like living with Hugo, would it?" I say, and he looks at me like I'm insane. "Only joking. Because he lives in the hotel, and you... Okay."
"You better be joking, mate."
"I said I was."
"Cos you weren't joking, were you, when you went off on one at the hotel. I still can't believe that you actually thought I was swapping numbers with him because I wanted to get off with him, in the middle of our anniversary weekend."
"We're gonna go through this again, are we? I thought we sorted it out."
"Eh? You brought it up."
"As a joke."
"Not a very funny one, Brendan, thinking I'm the sort of person who would do that to you."
"You would'a thought the same, if you saw me doing that."
"No I wouldn't."
"You would. You did."
"What are you on about now?"
"You did. You saw me with that lad from prison, when he came to the club. I was taking his phone number just to get rid of him, and your reaction was..."
"That was completely different."
"It was exactly the same."
"No. No, because you and that Damian were actually a thing."
"We were not a 'thing'."
"Yeah you were. 'Not a thing'" – He does quote-marks with his fingers when he say that – "Is like me and Hugo. If you can't see the difference, then I'm just..."
"Alright. Yes, there's a difference, obviously. I'm just... I was just trying to point out that it's not just me that gets... or can get..."
"Jealous."
"Yeah."
"And paranoid."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"Okay then," he says, and we catch eyes for a fraction of a second.
"Okay." I walk to the window, look up at where the blinds are attached. "We'll have to get some filler, fill in the holes once we've unscrewed this. We've got some of the paint left, make it look okay."
The intercom buzzes then, and he answers it, "Hiya. Just a sec, we'll come down."
Downstairs, I put my hand on the handle of the front door, but pause before I pull it open.
"Are we good?" I say.
He looks at me like he doesn't know why I'm even asking.
"Course we're good," he says.
Then he holds the door open, I pick up the chair, and we step outside. The kids come running, and we're in the here and now, instead of wherever we'd gone to.
I carry the chair to Amy's car. She's unloading the bicycles from the boot.
"This'll fit, will it?" I ask her.
"I think so." She moves the stuff that's in there – plastic bags, wellington boots, the usual kind of stuff – to the sides, and I put the chair in, wedging it so it won't slide around, and she says, "Thanks."
"Thanks for loaning it to us."
"You're welcome."
"Also, thanks for the card saying thanks for the weekend. We were gonna send you a card saying thanks for the card saying thanks for the weekend, but..."
Amy looks at me sideways.
Someone's laughing: Lucas. "That's funny," he says.
"See?" I say to Amy. "Funny."
Steven's here too now. "Right, we got everything?"
"They've put their bags over there by the door, and the bikes are here," Amy says.
She and Steven give each other a hug and a kiss.
"You're not coming in for a cuppa, then?" he says to her.
"No, I've got to get back. We've got friends coming over, and I've got some shopping to get first."
"Alright. Well, have a nice time with your friends. And we'll see you when we bring the kids back tomorrow night."
"Let me know when you're leaving," she says, then she calls to the kids, who are on their bikes by now, "Bye bye, then, you two. I'm going now."
They cycle over and say goodbye.
"Brendan's not working Sunday nights now, Ames, so we haven't got to leave home so early now, when we bring them back."
"Oh, okay. Not too late though, because of school in the morning."
"I know, yeah. Course not."
She opens her car door, but before she gets in, she says, "I meant to say, it's parents' evening this week coming. I don't know if you'll be able to go, because you work in the evenings, but it starts at three-thirty, so if you went at the beginning of the session, you'd have time to get back from Manchester after you've seen their teachers."
Steven looks surprised.
"What night is it?" he asks.
"It's two nights – Tuesday and Wednesday. Just a second..." She looks it up on her phone. "Yes, Tuesday and Wednesday, three-thirty till six. We're not sure which night we're going yet. Anyway, let me know if you're going to make it, then I can fill you in about their teachers first."
"We'll make it," I say.
Steven glances at me, then back to Amy. "Yeah, we'll make it."
They say goodbye, and we all wait till she's driven off, then go back up to the flat.
:::::::
First chance we get for a minute on our own in the kitchen, while the kids are off unpacking their bags, I stay to Steven, "You okay?"
"Yeah. Parents' evening..."
"Yeah."
"I mean, I know it's not what you want to be doing, is it, but thanks for saying we can go."
"You've got every right to be there."
"So have you. As much right as Simon's got."
"You go to it, usually, do you? Or..?"
He hasn't been since I came back from my time away – I would know if he had. I don't know how often they hold parents' evenings, but there would have been one at the same time last year, I'm guessing, and I know for sure he didn't go to that one.
"Amy's not told me about them before," he says. "I've only known they've happened if the kids have said something after, but like... No, I've not been. I mean, I used to, when I had the kids full time, years ago, before everything that happened. But all the time they've lived in Manchester and gone to the school they're at now, I've not been, ever."
"So this is new. Amy, telling you, is new."
He nods. "I'm..."
He covers his face with his hands.
"Steven?"
"A bit of me is angry, for what I've missed." He's leaning back against the worktop, his hands gripping its edge now, white-knuckled.
"Angry with Amy?" I ask.
"With Amy. With me, for messing things up so bad that me own kids' mum didn't want me showing me face in their school."
"That wasn't your fault."
"What wasn't? The drugs, and the people, and the state of me flat, and the state of me?"
"It wasn't. Wasn't your fault."
"It dun't matter now, does it. Makes no difference. So, yeah, a bit of me is angry. But the other bit is like, this is amazing. Because it is, innit, after all that? It's amazing."
"What's amazing?" asks Leah.
"You could be a spy, creeping up on people like that," I say.
She laughs. "What's amazing though?"
"Parents' evening. Me and Daddy Brendan are going – so you better've been good, cos your teachers'll be grassing you up, won't they, eh?"
"We're always good," says Lucas, appearing from behind his sister.
"I'm a helper," says Leah. "I've got to take parents and carers to the classrooms."
"That's good, innit? Very responsible."
"I've got to stay at school when Mummy and Simon come to see the teachers," Lucas says, "Because I can't go home on my own."
"That'll be a long day for you," his dad says to him. "But I expect some of your mates will be staying an' all, so it won't be too bad."
"We're going to have biscuits. I saw them – a big box, all chocolate ones."
"Kidding me," I say to Lucas. "Worth staying late every night of the week, if there's gonna be chocolate biscuits."
:::::::
I don't mention that, for the first time, Steven will be on his own in charge of the kids. He doesn't mention it either.
Wasn't planned: I think with Christmas three weekends ago, New Year two weekends ago, and last weekend, the anniversary, we've got out of the habit of arranging for someone to come round to our place to keep Steven company on a Saturday night. So, I don't know when it dawned on him, or if it even has, but it doesn't occur to me until I'm changing into my suit ready for work.
I think about who I could call at this point. Maybe his sisters, or his father: they would rustle up someone between them, if I asked.
Steven and the kids are on the sofa when I come back from the bedroom. Relaxed. Happy. As normal as any Saturday before the thing that happened to him.
I don't phone anyone.
"Alright?" I say. "Be good."
"You off?" Steven says, and he gets up and comes to the flat door with me. "Have a good night. I love you."
"You too. See you later. I love you too." I go; I stop, turn back. "Text me. When they've gone to bed. Okay."
I kept the fear out of my voice. I know how to do that, at least.
Go to work with a lead weight in my belly.
:::::::
L and L in bed bit late because was showing them photos of last wkd. Am watching a film its rubbish lol. Early nite I thing xxx
A few seconds later, *think xxx
I text back, Let me know when you're in bed... X
Ok love you xxx
An hour goes by. I text him, Still up?
Gimme a chance xxx
Another hour, or maybe it's less – I couldn't say. Anyhow, his message comes: In bed now. Hope work is good. Love you see you later xxx
Okay.
Sleep tight. X
:::::::
He lifts the cover for me to get into bed.
"Did I wake you?" I whisper.
"Not till you was faffing around trying to find a T-shirt to put on." He kisses me, and settles his head on my outstretched arm.
"Sorry. Didn't want to put the light on. Woke you up anyways though, so..."
"Dun't matter. How was work?"
"Alright, yeah. Busier than last week, according to Maria."
"Everything was fine here," Steven whispers. "You didn't need to worry."
So he knows I was worried, and he knows why.
I pull him into my arms, hug him hard. He stays when I loosen my hold.
"It's..."
"I know," says Steven.
:::::::
Sunday night, we drop Leah and Lucas off at their mother's, and we're away from there not long after seven, considering what to do with our new found freedom.
"So, out for dinner?" I say, when we're almost back in Chester, having not come to a decision. "See what's on at the cinema? Go for a pint or two? Any combination of the aforementioned..?"
"Could go clubbing."
A brief look at him is enough for me to see that he's joking.
"Could get a takeaway, and go home," I say. "We've got beers in the fridge."
"Chinese?"
We glance at each other; smile.
"Suits me."
:::::::
"This is what you watch, is it, on a Sunday?" I say to Steven.
"Not really. Well, I've seen bits of it. It's good sometimes."
"So it's Sherlock Holmes, but this is now, yeah, the present day. What is he – a time traveller?"
"No. It's just when it is. He lives nowadays, in this show. Now, shush, it's the last episode."
I try watching for a minute. Kind of try, anyways.
"I don't know what's going on."
"Look, you might do, Brendan, if you watched the telly, instead of digging in all the Chinese boxes, picking out the best bits."
"Okay, alright, I'm watching."
For a few minutes now, we both concentrate on the television.
Then Steven says, "D'you know what? I don't know what's going on either."
"It's fucking perplexing. Thank god it's not just me."
He laughs. "It might make sense if we'd watched it from the start, eh?"
"Possibly..."
"Might as well leave it on now, though. I wanna see if him and the other bloke get together at the end."
"Excuse me?"
"Any of them dumplings left, or have you nicked the lot?"
There's one left. I feed it to him myself.
:::::::
Wednesday, I get a phone call from Anne.
I answer it, "Happy birthday to you..."
"Thank you! I'm disappointed you didn't sing it, but one can't have everything. Ha."
"You having a good one?"
"I'm being spoilt rotten. And I'm phoning to say thank you for my beautiful roses, which just arrived at the door. I think Richard thought I had a secret lover, until I showed him the card and he saw they were from you two."
"You're welcome."
"Ste around?"
"He's in the kitchen, putting something together to eat before we head over to Manchester this afternoon."
"Manchester?"
"Parents' evening."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"You haven't done that before, have you?"
"Nope." I walk into the bedroom, pull the door shut. "It's a big deal for him. Amy's kept that side of things to herself till now."
"Well, she probably saw you together more over that weekend away than she's seen in the rest of your lives put together. She's seen what you're really like, the two of you."
"I guess that's it, yeah."
"And your reward is, to get to mingle with other harrassed parents and their brats at parents' evening."
"Great."
She laughs. "Seriously though, I'm made up for you both."
"Cheers, yeah, it... it matters to Steven. Anyways. Listen, I'll let you go, let you go and get spoiled by the fiance."
"Okay. Hopefully I'll see you soon, anyway – it's funny, I miss that part of the world more now I'm in London than I did when I was in the States."
"You know you're always welcome here." Then before she can accuse me of getting sentimental, I ask, "You want a word with the boy before you go?"
"Yes please."
I go and find Steven in the kitchen. "Anne for you."
"Oh, ta." He takes my phone. "Hiya, Mitz. Happy birthday."
I leave him to talk to her, and go and sit down.
He's not long. Comes in and gives me my phone back.
"She told you she liked the flowers?" I say.
"Yeah, she was well pleased." He sits on the arm of the sofa, near to me. "She said you told her about going to the parents' evening."
"Did I?"
"Yes." He leans down and kisses me. "You did."