‘Oh, Puppy, I love him!’ exclaimed Shona, stepping forward to put her arm around Parvez in an embrace that was awkward as it was unusual. Parvez, surprised and pleased by their sudden renewed intimacy, put his own arm around her and kissed her on the top of her neatly bobbed hair. She hadn’t called him Puppy for years; once the children were old enough to speak, she had stopped calling him Puppy in front of them and had switched to Abbu or Dad. And whenever they were in company, she had made sure to call him Parvez, until eventually it had seemed that they were always in company, whether with the boys or someone else, so it had been a natural transition to call him Parvez on the rare occasions when it was just the two of them. And he himself had stopped calling her Goldie, although sometimes he satisfied himself with ‘Shonali’, the affectionate form of her name, which was quite appropriate enough for company.

‘I thought about getting two of them, to keep each other company,’ said Parvez, ‘but then I thought we had enough trouble with the last two, so perhaps it was time to give us a break, and just look after single figures.’

Shona smiled, but this time, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She had mistaken the gift as a romantic gesture, but now saw it for what it was - an attempt to replace the boys and paper over the cracks with another shared endeavour. Still, the puppy was undeniably gorgeous. She stepped back from Parvez and, closing the front door behind her, asked, ‘What shall we call him?’

‘You name him, Shona. Your names are the ones that stick,’ said Parvez, without rancour. ‘Maybe I’ll give him his middle name.’

‘Well, he’s Irish,’ said Shona, inspecting his collar. ‘Perhaps we should give him an Irish name, like Patrick.’

‘Pat the puppy?’ laughed Parvez. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? The poor thing will get enough attention without his name being an instruction.’ He took the puppy and patted him lightly and enthusiastically. ‘Pat the puppy, Pat the puppy.’ Watching the puppy squirm with pleasure at the attention, Shona started laughing and Parvez, grinning that his joke had worked, added, ‘Why don’t we call him Bob for his middle name?’ He bobbed up and down with the scrabbling, excited puppy in his arms. ‘Bob the dog, Bob the dog.’

‘OK, Patrick-Bob. That’s his name. Is that all right with you, sweetie?’ she cooed, but she was talking to the puppy, not to Parvez, and chucked the puppy under his chin. As she walked through to the kitchen, Parvez put down the puppy and joined her. ‘Are you checking that we’ve got enough chitlins and vittles for when the rest of the Waltons come to visit Patrick-Bob for supper?’