Dear Madam,

Thank you for your request to know which time period I would travel to. Your own answers were varied and erudite, and I’m sure the people of the Middle Ages would be grateful for your antidote to the Black Death. On reflection, I would travel back five years, to tell my younger self that my hairstyle doesn’t suit me.

Kind Regards,

 

 

I enter the playground, looking warily around. It’s home time and time to pick up Billy, but this simple trip every day has become a little like one of the labours of Hercules. As if on cue, I hear a fluting voice call out Jude, and repressing a sigh I look over to find Hilary, one of the heads of the mummy mafia, or coven, as I prefer to think of them. She’s standing holding court to her minions, pontificating on some item of world importance like the price of a manicure, while they titter and slavishly nod.

I met her on my first day of collecting Billy. She sidled in next to me and proceeded to cross question me for half an hour, while I shot increasingly desperate looks around for a rescue that wasn’t happening. If the KGB ever needed help, she’d be an automatic choice. When Billy came out and made a beeline for me, her gaze had sharpened with even more interest.

“You’re with Asa Jacobs?”

I reluctantly nodded, and she looked me up and down, her gaze lingering far too long on my package. I hadn’t been so thoroughly looked over since my old agent, who never understood the phrase ‘look, don’t touch’.

“In what capacity?” she finally asked. I stared at her, wondering what she was implying. Then, with her next words, I realised she wasn’t bothering with any polite hints. “Are you the new flavour of the month? Asa has an eye for the pretty ones.” She looked me up and down. “Men or women. It doesn’t matter.”

I muttered a vague disclaimer, and after that I have tried to avoid her, which is more difficult than I ever would have imagined. I had no idea of what a school playground was like. In my naivety, I imagined cosy chats around the gates, offers of coffee and play dates. Instead, it’s something more akin to purgatory, and with more factions than the court of Versailles, with the parents all standing in their little groups looking down on the others. It’s dominated by Hilary’s clique who rock up in their expensive SUVs, all uniformly black and making the school look like a mafia convention. Then they stand around judging everyone by how they dress, what car they drive, their husbands’ jobs. It’s like Anna Wintour crossed with Simon Cowell, but a million times more vicious.

I give her a nervous wave, and slot myself in behind a pregnant woman pushing a double buggy. She looks knackered and zombie like, and is currently ferociously chewing on a Mars bar, so I think I’m safe for the time being.

I hear a deep, low chuckle and when a voice says, ‘you look like prey’, I turn around to see a red-haired woman, who is rather incongruously wearing jogging bottoms with Birkenstocks and a bright blue fake fur coat. Her hair is scrunched up in a very uneven bun, and secured with what looks like a paintbrush, and she has paint all over her hands.

I instantly recognise her as she has a unique status in that she appears to be ostracized by every single group in the playground. She’s obviously an artist and the mother of two rather naughty looking boys. She also seems to be chaotically disorganised, because she always seems to be dropping the children off very late, and she usually dresses very inappropriately for the weather. She’ll rock up in shorts and a t-shirt when it’s tipping down, and a winter coat in the sunshine. She has a raffish charm about her.

“Not prey, so much as road kill if she catches me again,” I say morosely, and she throws back her head giving a hoarse chuckle, her face alive with amusement.

“You’re safe enough, darling. You’re a pretty man, so you’re no competition, and besides, you’re Asa’s nanny. That’s the magic key to get to him. They’re all after him, wanting his scalp on their belts. You should see it during Parents’ Evening. It’s like the catwalk during Paris Fashion Week.”

I laugh and then pause. “How do you know I’m his nanny?”

She smiles. “My twin boys are Milo and Blue. Billy was round the other night talking about you. He said you were getting your photo taken by a man with a very big camera. Sounded interestingly seedy.”

I laugh. “I remember. I was at work. Peggy brought him.”

She laughs. “Along with a ton of cake and the equivalent in gossip.”

“Well, at least you’re reliably informed,” I say sourly. “Hilary and her coven seem to forget I have a perfectly workable pair of ears, so I can hear all the reasons I’m apparently staying with Asa. The only one I haven’t heard so far is human trafficking.”

“That’s next week,” she says, and we laugh. She holds her hand out. “I’m Rachel. My husband and I are friends of Asa. James and he play a very competitive game of squash together.” She pauses and looks at me. “The coven are also interested in you because of the fact you really do look like someone who used to come and collect Billy.” I know what she’s going to say before she says it. “Phillip.”

My interest sharpens. “Ah, the mysterious Phillip. And I look like him?”

She nods. “Same black hair, olive skin and lean figure.” She smiles. “Asa’s got a type alright.”

I open my mouth to ask what she means, but the doors open and teachers appear with little people dancing around their legs, insisting they can see their mums. I raise my hand to attract Billy’s attention, and he grins widely and fidgets about as if burning to get away. In the pause while I wait for the teacher to hear him, I look at Rachel.

“So, I’m Asa’s type, then?”

She shoots me a keen glance, and then smiles crookedly and almost sadly. “Probably not anymore. Sorry.”

I shake my head. “I’m not with Asa you know. I’m just helping him out with Billy.”

“Well, you’re certainly easier to talk to than Nanny McPhee.” I laugh and she looks keenly at me. “You must have impressed him though. He doesn’t hand Billy over casually. Especially not since -”

“Not since what?” I ask, but then a weight hits my knees and Billy is wrapped around my legs. “Hi, mate,” I say, reaching down and giving him a hug. “Did you have a good day?”

He straightens up and clutches his rucksack close, giving me a quick glance full of entreaty. “Can we go now please, Jude?”

“Okay, Bill.” I wonder what’s got him riled up.

I look at Rachel and she smiles, scrabbling in her pocket for a piece of paper and then scribbling on it. When she hands it to me I’m amused to see it’s a receipt for Ann Summers. “Give me a ring,” she says cheerfully. “We’ll have a coffee after drop off one morning. It’s so nice to meet a friendly face.”

“I bet,” I say with feeling, and give her a wave before setting off with Billy for the walk home.

I normally like this time of the day, as he can give full rein to his inner chatterbox. Usually, he jumps and skips along, giving me every minute detail of his day. Today however, he’s quiet and obviously determined to get home as fast as possible. However, when one of you is three and a half foot and five years old, it takes a while. Shooting him a quick glance, I ascertain that he seems okay. He’s a wear your heart on your sleeve sort of person, so if something’s bothering him, it will come out anyway, so I leave him to it and occupy myself in thought.

The last month has flown by, and I’m surprised by how much I’ve enjoyed it. Billy is a gorgeous little boy, open and kind and happy. He’s slightly dramatic which has shades of his father, and has a droll sense of humour. My job therefore, is relatively easy as I’d hate to deal with a brat.

However, as he has more social engagements than me, it’s taken the organisational routine of the British army to get through. Weekly swimming lessons, playdates, visits to the library and children’s parties, my life is so far removed from my career as a model, it’s ridiculous. Perhaps that’s why I love it so much. There’s no expectation of how I should look. Instead, I can sling on jeans and a ratty old top, leave off shaving and let my hair fall over my face, yet no one cares. The only requirement Billy has is that I’m there. He’s remarkably easy to please, and flourishes under my care, like a tiny neglected begonia which is given water.

I also love the fact my brain can move freely again. At work, I can’t talk about anything that matters to me, like books. It’s usually a frenetic, bellicose atmosphere which doesn’t encourage any real interaction. I’m not stereotyping, because there are a lot of well-read people in the industry, but it’s a concrete fact that there are also a lot of people like Dean, whose only real concerns are looking good and being seen to be looking good. Hardly anyone talks to each other anyway, because there is such a cutthroat, competitive air to the job.

In Asa’s house, I suppose I’m like a plant too. I thrive sitting in his kitchen eating supper with whoever turns up, talking and laughing and arguing. Meals are lively occasions where anyone is welcome, and obviously everyone knows when he’s at home, because the doorbell never stops ringing and people keep appearing. Last night for example, I ate chilli with Asa, his plumber Michael, and a very high-powered Hollywood agent. The agent looked slightly askance at Asa and Michael laughing at war stories about burst pipes, but he was quite obviously too wary of offending Asa, so in the end, he unbent and seemed to enjoy himself.

The key to this though is Asa, and he seems better now I’m not making my usual frantic attempts to aggravate him. I suppose he’s relaxed now he can trust someone with his child.

I’ve found out too, that he’s kind when not being pushed to his limits by me. He would give his last penny to help someone, and things touch him deeply. He’s the epitome of a gentle giant, which is as far removed from his screen persona as I am to touching Brad Pitt’s bottom. Over the weeks I’ve watched him succumb to any sob story going, and had to restrain myself from stepping in to stop him being used.

I don’t know where this protective element is coming from, but it can just fuck right off. It’s inconvenient and stupid, but it didn’t stop me from pointing out acerbically the other night that the man telling him a sob story about how he needed a holiday, could actually sell the expensive Rolex adorning his wrist. I’d handed the guy the number of a pawn broker and hustled him out of the house, ignoring Asa’s grateful smile, because I didn’t want him chipping another fucking stone out of my wall of reserve.

I try so hard to bolster this wall, but it just keeps collapsing like a soggy card tower, because he’s around me a lot. Where before he would usually vanish after Billy had gone to bed, disappearing out to tom cat about as Peggy calls it dismissively. Now, he stays home with me until late, sitting in the study, drinking wine and sharing funny life stories, and having endless passionate debates with me over politics and books we’ve read.

I’ve seen Peggy shoot us looks over the last month, as if she imagines something else is happening. I shake my head because that is never going to happen. No matter how our minds seem to spark from each other and we never seem to run out of things to say, only the time in which to say them. No matter how close we grow, and I am now foolishly starting to consider him a friend, it still won’t go anywhere. It can’t.

I know there’s attraction on his side too, because I can feel it, but it seems he views it the same way as me. Whenever we laugh or I become enthusiastic about something, waving my glass about and watching his eyes darken, they will always clear and then he will invariably mention Dean’s name, as if he’s the ghost at a feast.

It occurs to me to wonder why I don’t drop into conversation the fact we’re not boyfriends, because I haven’t yet. Something stops me every time. Maybe it’s the knowledge Asa is dangerous to me. Now he’s not looking at me in disgust, now he laughs with me and listens to me, he’s eerily close to the man I imagined being with when I was younger. I imagined someone larger than life, someone charismatic and bohemian. I imagined a warm, artistic household, chaotic and loving, and despite later events disabusing me of any notion that this will be my fate, I’m obviously still clinging to that dream. So instead of telling him, when he mentions Dean, I smile and retreat to my room. Then if, when I jerk off and come, Asa’s name is on my lips, well that’s my affair.

We come to the bottom of the hill leading to home, and I look down at Billy. “Want a lift, mate?”

He nods eagerly. It’s become our custom for me to carry him up the hill on my shoulders, as he’s usually tired at this point. Today, however, he hesitates, still clutching his bag closely, and I narrow my eyes. I learned quickly over the last month that when a child goes quiet, it’s the time to be worried.

“What’s up, Bill? You’re very quiet.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he says determinedly. “If you pick me up though, Jude, can you be very, very careful, because my bag mustn’t be bumped about.”

“Why?” I ask cautiously, but he gets the same stubborn look his dad wore the other day when he was told he couldn’t do his own stunts. I shake my head. No point in forcing it here. I bend down so he can climb on my back, and once he’s situated with his arms in a stranglehold around my neck, we bound up the hill with him making horse noises.

We bang through the door and instantly I know Asa’s home, even before I hear his shout of Billy from the kitchen. It’s almost like the particles become more charged around him. Billy wriggles so I set him down carefully, and he darts into the kitchen, obviously forgetting about the need to keep his rucksack still.

I straighten and hesitate, because the flare of excitement and heat which rushes through me at just the sound of his deep drawl sends a burst of fear down my spine. I don’t need this. I really don’t fucking need this, because some deep part of me, some native instinct tells me he spells danger to all my resolve.

My eyes catch on Billy’s bag that he dropped at the door, and my mind seizes on the diversion. Maybe he’s got something for Asa that he made at school. Asa’s been away from home for two days, in Ireland for costume fittings, and Billy usually makes something for his return.

I follow him slowly, pausing in the door to pick up the discarded bag. I walk in slowly, and as soon as I catch Asa’s eyes I exhale slowly, because shit, the heat in his eyes as he sends them slowly down my body is a mirror of mine. Slightly more worrying is the brief flare of happiness when he sees me. Fuck, it’s not one sided either. Then I stutter in amazement. “Dylan, what are you doing here?”

Dylan manages to drag his attention away from his intense perusal of Asa while he’s occupied with Billy, and smiles at me. I shake my head. If he was an emoji, he’d be that slightly scary one with hearts for eyes and a little, round mouth.

I smirk. “Dylan! God, it’s been years since I last saw you.” I tap my chin. “Weren’t we twenty last time I saw you? I can’t even begin to imagine why you’ve chosen now to reconnect.”

I want to laugh as he looks slightly panicked, as if he thinks Asa is going to summon a burly security guard from the pantry and throw him out. If he actually looked at Asa, he’d know this isn’t true, as he already knows I’m lying and is smiling. I don’t know how he always sees through me, but it’s irritating. I drag my eyes away from his tanned face, sparkling brown eyes and the smirk pulling at his full lips under his beard, and shake my head at Dylan. Making sure Billy can’t see my mouth, I look at Dylan sternly and mouth fame whore.

“I am not,” Dylan says indignantly, as Asa bursts into laughter. He turns frantically to Asa. “I swear I saw him last weekend. I’m his best friend.” He shoots me a very stern look. “Tell him the truth, Jude, right now.”

I laugh and wave my hand cavalierly at Asa. “He knows I’m lying.”

Dylan shoots Asa a startled look. “You’re one of the few then. Jude’s the most open closed book I’ve ever met.”

My ‘that makes no sense’ is drowned out by Asa. “Yes. That’s exactly the way to describe him.”

“Excuse me,” I say coolly. “I have no idea why you’ve decided to join forces with my former best friend, Asa, but I’d advise against it, given the level of his teenage crush on you.”

“Jude,” Dylan hisses, turning bright red. “That’s a complete lie.”

“Is it? That’s rich coming from Asa’s child bride,” I say evilly, and Asa laughs loudly.

“Another one? If I’d been inclined to polyamory, I’d have been set in my twenties.”

Dylan shakes his head, and gives Asa the wry look I love on him. It twists his perfect features, making him look a little deranged. It’s the way I like him best, and I’m under no illusions that he won’t get me back for this. “Okay, I give in,” he says calmly. “I did actually convince myself I was going to marry you, which took teenage delusion to very dizzy heights. I also might have hopped on the train to visit your home and throw myself at you. Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, my mother followed me and rugby tackled me to the floor at St Pancras station.”

I laugh out loud until I’m holding my sides. “Oh my God, that was him?”

Asa straightens. “Don’t say it like it’s out of the ballpark. In my day, I had many lunacy induced proposals, and the police had to perform huge numbers of interventions in my doorway. Huge,” he emphasises, glaring at me.

“I’ll take your word for it, but just be very careful not to accept any drinks or food from Dylan. He has a very passionate nature according to him, but others term it obsessive and slightly scary.”

I shake my head at him when they both laugh, and turn to Billy. “Do you want an apple and some milk, Bill?”

He nods enthusiastically, and Dylan examines me keenly. “I know you said you were nannying, but I couldn’t quite believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Hey!” I say crossly. “I’m an absolutely epic nanny.”

“Hmm,” he says.

Asa looks curiously at me. “You do remember Father’s Day, don’t you?”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. I can actually feel my ears turning red. “Oh no, don’t tell Dylan. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“What did you do?” Dylan asks gleefully, and Asa starts to laugh.

“Jude and Billy made me a card which had a very strange addition to it.”

“What?” Dylan is leaning forward, and I shake my head.

“He said Peggy had stickers in her room. How was I supposed to know what they were? I thought she’d got some sticky stars or something.”

“What was it?” Dylan asks, and I bang my head on the table.

“You tell him. I can’t even say it,” I say into the wood.

Asa roars with laughter. “So, he and Billy brought me breakfast in bed, and this lovely card with lots of stars and spaceships, and then inside it was a -” He starts to laugh helplessly.

I groan. “Oh God. I can’t even bear to listen.”

Asa has tears running down his face, and can’t speak for a second. After a long interlude when he struggles to get his words out, with many pauses while he breaks into laughter again, he finally manages to get control. “Inside it was one of Peggy’s sanitary towels.”

Dylan breaks into peals of laughter, and the two idiots lean on each other while they get their breath. I glare at them.

“Ignoring that slight misunderstanding, I am an excellent nanny. I’m a complete natural.” They look at me doubtfully and I nod. “I am,” I say emphatically. “Bill, tell them I’m an amazingly incredible and smashing nanny.”

Bill grins his gap-toothed grin. “Jude let me go to bed without washing my face last night, and he said if I stopped talking while he was watching ‘Casualty’, I could watch ‘Ninja Warrior’ and not clean my teeth for one whole night.” He nods emphatically. “Jude is brilliant.”

“Et tu, Brute?” I say sadly, sinking into my chair as Asa and Dylan laugh their heads off. Bill climbs off Asa’s lap and settles onto mine, hugging me close as the two men continue laughing like drains. He gives me a wet kiss on the cheek. “Thanks mate,” I say, brushing his curls off his face and feeling the delicate bones of his skull underneath. I look up and still at the deep, almost tender expression on Asa’s face, but he blanks it before I can stare, focusing instead on Billy.

“Tell me about school today,” he says deeply, and Billy jumps down from my lap. He immediately proceeds to almost act his day out, pacing up and down the kitchen and relating friendship break ups and tellings off, and someone pouring their milk down the back of a radiator because they didn’t want it, while Asa listens to him as if fascinated. Looking up, he catches my eye and we exchange a deep smile.

My face burns as he turns back to Billy, and I look up knowing I’m going to have Dylan’s heat seeking missile of nosiness directed at me. I look at him, and yes, I was right. He looks between the two of us and some form of comprehension rushes across it, before he shutters it with a look that says he’s going to cross examine me later.

I shake my head. “Lovely as this visit is, did you need me for anything?”

He grins widely and reaches down by his feet to a big carrier bag. Even before he places the objects on the table, I groan. “You didn’t have to do this. I told you to ignore it.”

Asa looks at me. “Is it your birthday?”

“No,” I say quickly, but Dylan is even quicker.

“At the weekend,” he says happily. The traitor. He taps one of the packages wrapped in bright wrapping paper. “This is from me and Gabe. This one is from Henry, and the others are from your mum and dad and my family.” He shrugs. “Bet you can guess what Ben’s present is.”

Asa captures Billy’s hands as they stray towards the magnetic attraction which is a surprise present. “No, mate,” he says calmly. “They’re Jude’s presents.” He looks at me. “Weren’t you going to tell me?” His voice is calm and even, but for some reason I get the impression he’s almost hurt.

I rush into speech. “I don’t normally celebrate my birthday.” I point at Dylan. “He tries to celebrate it. Usually until he has to have the next morning off. Me, I’m not so keen.” I falter, because how can I explain why my birthday has so many dark memories associated with it? I look up, intending to catch Dylan’s eye to subtly implore him to change the subject, but instead, for some reason, I catch Asa’s expression, and something else comes out. “I don’t have good associations with that day,” I say slowly. “It’s not usually a good day for me, so I prefer to hole up and ignore it.” I see Dylan start out of the corner of my eye.

Asa’s eyes are busily taking in our body language, but he merely nods slowly and calmly. “Okay, fair enough.”

Tension flows away, to immediately flood back in when he says in a tone of confusion, “Isn’t Dean coming to celebrate?”

Dylan huffs. “The only time Dean would drag himself out of his mirror obsession would be if we made a special Saint Dean Day, and I have to tell you, he’d still have a hard time leaving his image.”

“Dylan!” I hiss. “Have I introduced you to Dean’s stepbrother?”

“Oh, bugger,” he says faintly, and then claps his hand over his mouth, but luckily, Billy is now ignoring us in favour of attempting to unobtrusively wander out of the room clutching his bag.

Asa looks at Dylan, stone faced. “You definitely can’t marry me now. Marry me, marry my family.”

Dylan snorts. “No amount of short togas and bare chests would ever make me marry Dean. I’m sorry.”

He and Asa break into laughter, but I look at Billy’s movements, and my interest sharpens. “Billy, hand me your bag,” I say calmly. “I just want to get your lunchbox out for the dishwasher, and see if Daddy’s got any letters from school.”

He looks extremely shifty. “It’s okay, Jude,” he says quickly. “My munch box will be okay for a bit.”

I hold out my hand and he slinks towards me, putting the bag in my hand with a tiny flounce. Dimly aware of Dylan busily telling Asa that Dean wouldn’t have any reason to visit me, I take the bag to the counter and unzip it. I cautiously open the top flap, and when nothing happens I shoot Billy a puzzled glance. Perhaps I misinterpreted him. Maybe he has got something for Asa, like I originally thought. I smile at him and pull out his Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox, and hand him the rucksack. “Okay mate, here’s your bag. You can take it upstairs and put it in your bedroom. Okay?”

He scrubs his foot against the opposite leg, blinking furiously. “Can I take my munch box upstairs?” he says urgently. “I haven’t eaten my lunch yet. Can I picnic in my bedroom?”

I smile at him. “Maybe leave the box with me so I can wash it. I’ll just take the food out and put it on a plate for you, and Holy Mother of God!” I shout the last out loud, and slam the lid of the box down as quickly as I opened it. “Jesus Christ!” I gasp looking at Billy, and then Asa and Dylan, who are staring at me open mouthed. I shake my head a few times. “Maybe this is a hallucination,” I say slowly. “Maybe all that alcohol at university has damaged my brain.”

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Asa says slowly, before jumping to his feet as I open the lunchbox again. “What the … What the hell is that?”

We all stare open mouthed at the tiny hamster who is sitting upright in Billy’s lunchbox, looking rather groggy and covered in the remnants of Billy’s yoghurt.

“I think my predominant emotion at the moment is relief because you all see him too,” I say slowly, and Dylan nods.

“I can understand that, babe. Hallucinations are no joke.”

“Well, not unless they’re good ones. Do you remember the time I -”

“Focus,” Asa says harshly. “There is a rat in my son’s lunchbox.”

“He is not a rat, Daddy,” Billy says indignantly. “He is a hamster called Mr Miffles.”

Dylan’s snort of laughter distracts me at first from the fact that Asa is slowly and steadily moving away, putting the table between him and the tiny hamster. My interest sharpens. “Asa, are you frightened of rodents?”

“No!” he says shrilly, and then obviously makes an attempt to lower his voice to a deeper level. “I’m not frightened of them. I just don’t like them very much.”

“Daddy, you’ll hurt Mr Miffles’ feelings,” Billy says indignantly, and I laugh.

“You don’t like them because you’re scared of them.”

“You shouldn’t mock other people’s fears,” Asa says primly, and then glares at me when I burst into laughter. “Oh, shut up, Jude. Most people would think a fear of clowns is more laughable.”

My laughter dies, and Dylan and I instantly sober. “Point taken,” we say in unison, and Asa stares at us.

“What? Both of you?”

We nod resolutely. “We’ll never say why,” I reply firmly, and Dylan nods emphatically, making the motion of zipping his lips.

Asa shakes his head and opens his mouth, but I’ll never know what he’s going to say, because he issues a very high-pitched shriek and jumps on his chair, as with a sudden jerk, the hamster recovers from his yoghurt coma, leaps out of the box, jumps down from the counter, and scurries out of the kitchen. Unfortunately, Peggy is bringing in a bag of shopping at this point. For a second I think it’s going to be alright, but then she lets out a scream which I swear unblocks one of my ears, and throws the contents of the bag everywhere.

Faced with obvious lunacy, the hamster does the sensible thing and scarpers in the direction of the study.

Asa groans. “Not in there. He’ll eat my books. Catch him, someone.”

However, he’s drowned out by Billy shouting crossly, “You have all frightened him. You are very, very naughty people and Mr Miffles will definitely not want to stay here with us now.”

“He’s not staying here anyway,” Asa exclaims, and I sigh and roll my eyes. 

“Come on, Bill. Let’s get a biscuit and some lettuce and carrots and see if Mr Miffles will come out.”

“You’re giving him a three-course meal. He’ll think it’s the bloody Ritz.” Asa sounds scandalized, and I give a long-suffering sigh.

“We are going to tempt him out, and then put him in a nice cardboard box and take him home.” Billy huffs, and I crouch down. “Where did he come from?”

He folds his arms. “He’s the class hamster and he wanted to come home with me.” He huffs. “He told me, Jude. He was really bored in his cage, and he wanted to come home and meet Daddy.” He shoots Asa a dark look. “Only now he thinks Daddy is a bit rude, and should remember that Mr Miffles is a guest in this house and so he should be polite.” This is obviously a piece of a lecture Asa has given him before, and I repress a smile.

“Well, he can’t stay here, Bill. His home is the classroom, and if he stayed with us he’d miss all the other children and Mrs Clark, because you’re all his family.” Billy ponders this, and then nods slowly. “Look at it this way,” I say cheerfully. “We can’t take him back until tomorrow anyway, so you can keep him for the night. Now, how about getting some lettuce from Peggy?” I shoot a glance at Peggy who is now perched on the table, bosom heaving and the shopping strewn everywhere. “It’s over there on the floor by the fridge, Bill.”

Immediately he’s diverted. He’s a sunny natured child, and couldn’t maintain a sulk if his livelihood depended on it. I clap my hands briskly, and then roll my eyes as Asa and Peggy jump. “Okay, Peggy and Daddy can find a box, and Dylan and I will find Mr Miffles.”

An hour later Mr Miffles has been found, washed gently and is sitting happily in a box in Billy’s room, eating a carrot. Dylan and Asa have become firm friends, and I’m exhausted. I put the phone down and shake my head. “Sorted. Mrs Clark hadn’t even noticed that Mr Miffles was gone. She seemed almost admiring of Billy’s ingenuity.”

Asa shakes his head darkly. “Today hamster theft. Tomorrow the next Brinks-Mat robbery.”

I laugh and hug Dylan, as he slips his coat on and comes towards me. “You going, babe?” I ask, and he nods.

“Gabe will be home soon, and we’re going out for dinner.” Ruffling my hair, he smiles. “Walk me out?”

I make sure he sees me roll my eyes, and follow him out. “It’s overkill shutting the door,” I say, watching him close it carefully. “He’ll know we’re talking about him.”

“I don’t want to talk about him, so much as you.”

I’m astonished and it shows. “Me? Why?” He stares at me and opens his mouth, but then to my surprise he shuts it again. Not used to reticence from Dylan, I stare at him. “You okay?”

To my bewilderment he grins happily. “I actually am. I really am.” He laughs and hugs me. “I couldn’t be happier if Scott Eastwood jumped out of a cake.”

“Even if it was a chocolate cake?”

He shakes his head, concentration on his face, and then shrugs. “Okay, I could be happier.”

I shake my head. “I know what you’re thinking, Dylan, and you’re wrong.”

He stops dead. “You don’t fancy him?”

“Ugh! Are you fifteen again?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t divert from the subject. You like him.” He looks towards the closed door and talks quickly. “And he’s amazing.”

I try not to smile. “Yeah, we know he’s your type.”

“Not mine. Yours.”

“What?”

“That man is everything you used to say you wanted. Big personality, big brain.”

I waggle my eyebrows. “Big everything.”

The diversion doesn’t work. I don’t know why I thought it would. Dylan, when pushed, is immovable. “Jude, you forget how long I’ve known you, and since we discovered men, this is what you have wanted. A big house with books everywhere, and laughter and life. It’s actually ironic that you’re the one who restricts yourself to hook-ups, when you’ve always been looking for this.”

I shake my head. “Yes, I was, but that’s past tense, Dyl. I think I’ve more than concretely proved I can’t do relationships.”

“But you can. You just need to take a chance.”

“A chance on who?” I say passionately. “Neal, Guy, or what about Malachi? I did take chances, and all it resulted in was me packing my heart away while they all, without exception, fucked off to greener and easier pastures.” He huffs and runs his hands through his hair, and I relent. “I’m sorry, babe. I know you’ve got my best interests at heart.”

“I have,” he says, hugging me tightly. “I just wish you could see what you might be pushing away.” I shake my head, and he pushes back and grabs my chin. “Sorry. I’ll save the bossiness for another time.”

“And another person. Use it on Gabe. For some capricious reason, he actually seems to like it.”

“He is a very confusing person.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” I laugh. “Well, I’m sorry you have to stop eye fucking my landlord and go home now.”

He smiles jauntily. “On the contrary, he told me I can come over any time.”

He makes an alarming growling noise, and I burst out laughing. “You do know that’s not a euphemism for licking him when he’s not looking, don’t you?”

He looks mournfully at me. “Christ, you’re a buzzkill these days.”

“You say buzzkill. I say preventing a legal injunction.” Smacking his arse, I send him on his way laughing.

Still smiling, I wander into the kitchen to find Asa standing looking at the pile of presents, his phone pressed to his ear, and something working behind those dark clever eyes.

“Everything okay?” I ask, and he starts almost guiltily. He hisses something into the phone, before powering it down and sliding it into his pocket.

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“God, everyone is weird tonight,” I sigh. “I’m going to see if Mr Miffles is okay.”

He sniffs in disapproval. “Well, don’t forget to ask Mr Miffles if we can do anything more for him. Ermine for his bedspread, steak for breakfast, pet euthanasia.”

I laugh all the way up the stairs and halfway through Billy’s bath time. I only stop when the bloody hamster gets loose again, and I have to empty Billy’s wardrobe at midnight.