‘I don’t sound like that.’ He pushed a cup along the worktop towards me. ‘She’s fine with it, really. Mum just likes to throw Dad’s money around, doesn’t she? Meanwhile, Dad is – Christ, I don’t know. He’s more worried about work than anything. Which gives Mum too much time to think. When she has too much time to think, she …’ It felt like Rowan was getting tangled up in side issues, but I nodded along all the same from behind my mug. ‘Dad is happy for us.’ He hesitated before he added, ‘Mum will be when she’s bought something for us.’

‘Jesus.’ I opened the oven door and slid both trays in to cook. ‘Here’s hoping mine’ll take it better than yours. Fried bread?’

Rowan thought for a minute. ‘Sure, fuck it, we’re celebrating. Chuck me the loaf?’

‘Bedded and breakfast all in one morning.’ I pulled ingredients from the fridge and threw them one by one across the room. ‘A woman could easily get used to this.’

Chapter 3

Mum and Dad were both standing at the door ready to greet us. They’d guessed.

‘What a lovely surprise this is,’ Mum started, arms outstretched. I let her pull me into a hug.

‘You know?’ She squealed into my scarf and shook with what I thought must be the beginnings of excitement finally spilling out. ‘You know?’ I asked Dad over her shoulder and he nodded. ‘So, you know.’ I bounced with her, then, feeling a fresh wave of enthusiasm, too. After the talk I’d had with my one-day mother-in-law earlier, it felt nice to be superglued back together by a mother’s touch. ‘When did you guess?’

She held me at arm’s length. ‘When have the two of you ever stopped around for a cup of tea in the middle of the week for no reason at all? Why aren’t you both at work? Why are you two hours later than you said you’d be? Why didn’t you call last night?’ It felt like her questions had veered off track somewhere and I laughed. ‘Come in.’ She stepped aside. ‘Come in, come in.’

‘Sweetheart …’ Dad pulled me into an even tighter hug. ‘Congratulations.’ Before I could thank him, he’d released me into the hallway and extended a hand to Rowan. ‘But the congratulations really should go to you, young man, for tying this one down.’

‘Ah, excuse me,’ I started.

‘It’s a turn of phrase, Edith.’ Dad sounded exasperated. I couldn’t see his face, but I sensed the eye roll all the same. ‘Congratulations, Rowan. Whisky?’

‘I’m driving, Peter—’

‘Nonsense. Whisky it is. We’ll get you a taxi.’

Mum steered me towards the living room door while Dad pushed Rowan towards the dining room – or rather, the drinks cabinet.