When they go off down the hallway, I hear George ask what’s the real reason I don’t want to have my dinner downstairs (so I clearly didn’t fool him either), and Dom says, ‘You’ve got to be patient if you want to win over someone like Wolfie.’

I get back to doing my homework in my head to stop me thinking about what would be the best superpower for my not quite crazy but possibly dangerously close mother to have. When I pick up all the paper and pencils off the floor, I see George has done a picture of a spiky-haired stick man and a dog standing in front of a garden shed, with a voice bubble saying, ’Ello you dimond geezer.

He’s winning me over, George is.

27

Danny

When Pete messaged with a ten-minute heads up that he was on his way over, part of me couldn’t help suspecting the worst.

I’d only dropped the envelope of handwritten notes in the mail to him the previous morning, and as soon as they left my hand I’d wanted them back. It wasn’t just that I found myself hoping to have done a good job for the sake of the job itself (strange as the feeling was), it was the thought of Anna and Col and Rich T. Biscuit and the rest actually being forwarded my replies. The responsibility felt real and overwhelming, and what if I’d got it all wrong?

I’d managed to distract myself by starting on a major clean-up of the shed (chapter eight of Nature, Nurture and Nachos, ‘The Divine Diversion’), which had worked a treat, but as I waited for Pete to show up, I couldn’t help worrying what his super-quick response might mean. There wasn’t time to think too deeply, though, because in what seemed a lot less than ten minutes, the sun went out and there he was silhouetted in the doorway of the shed.

‘Dom told me to come straight through, hope that’s OK. How you doing?’ Pete didn’t wait for an answer as he walked straight into the shed like he owned the place. ‘You’ve only gone and pulled it off, mate. Jeremy – my editor – loves what you did! He’s well into it! Is it all right if I . . .?’

There was no sign of the slightly sheepish and evasive manner of his first visit and, in fact, I’d go so far as to say there was a definite air of confidence hovering around young Pete Barker. He barely took a breath in between words and, as I stepped back, he headed straight for the bed, perching casually on the edge and crossing his two-mile-long legs. He looked around approvingly.

‘Dom told me you were having a good old spring clean. Looks great! Any chance of a cuppa to celebrate, mate?’ I wasn’t sure if he meant about the tidy shed or that I’d apparently pulled a blinder and Jeremy was happy with my work, but either way a calming cup of tea definitely sounded like a good idea.