Granddad takes a deep breath like we’re at scuba again. I think he’s going to shout, but then he says breathlessly, ‘Tell your mum I’ll have it on a tray.’ I’ve never seen him like this and it’s kind of scary not knowing what’s wrong.

I get up and go into the kitchen.

‘He says he’ll have it on a tray,’ I say.

‘Good,’ says Mum, then she looks at me, concerned.

‘Felix,’ she says. ‘What’s wrong?’

I try to speak but it feels like I’ve a tomato stuck in my throat. I swallow and try again.

‘It’s Granddad,’ I whisper. ‘He looks much worse than I thought he would and he keeps thanking God.’

‘I know, love.’ The microwave pings. ‘But it’s okay. The doctors wouldn’t have sent him home if they didn’t think he was all right.’

‘But they did that with Grandma,’ I whisper urgently. ‘And the next week she died!’

Mum presses her hand against my cheek. ‘That was different,’ she says. ‘Of course he’s not been well, but we’ll take care of him and he’ll be fine.’ She takes Granddad’s tea out of the microwave and puts it on a tray. ‘You bring the gravy and a knife and fork,’ she says.

‘Here you go, Dad,’ says Mum as she enters the sitting room.

Granddad pushes himself up and Mum puts the tray on his lap.

‘Now,’ she says, ‘is there anything else you want? Pepper? Salt?’ Mum waits for his answer.

Granddad glances at me, then picks up his knife and fork. I wonder if he’s thinking the same as me – about when we used the knife and fork as chess pieces the night he taught me the Sicilian Defence. I wish he could do it again, but he can hardly cut his meat let alone organize a chess attack. Then suddenly he looks up.

‘Mint sauce,’ he says.

‘What?’ says Mum.

‘Mint sauce. I am thinking I would like some mint sauce.’

‘We don’t have any,’ says Mum.

‘Perhaps you could go to the shop and get me some.’

‘Well, yes.’ Mum looks at me, exasperated. ‘If it means you will eat it. Felix, would you run to the shop for—’

‘No,’ says Granddad. ‘I was thinking you could go.’

‘But Felix will be quicker,’ says Mum.

Granddad glances at me. ‘Yes . . . he would,’ he says slowly. ‘But . . . could I have some Guinness too?’

‘Guinness?’

‘Yes,’ says Granddad. ‘The doctors said a little beer wouldn’t hurt. But Felix is too young to buy it.’

Mum gives me a weirded-out look like she thinks Granddad has gone slightly mad, and I’m thinking that too.

‘Okay,’ she says warily. ‘But do you need it right now?’

‘It would be nice,’ says Granddad. ‘We could always reheat my dinner.’

‘All right.’ Mum swivels her eyes at me, like, Felix, I need to talk.