“Hey, Norman, do you know what I think?”

He twisted slightly in the bed, and the shift in position made him wince but I saw the hint of a smile pass over his face and a quiet little voice came back on cue. “I dunno, Mum. What do you think?”

It was a game we’d played a million times before and, just like those other million times, Norman probably knew exactly what I was going to say. But it never stopped him asking anyway. Just for fun. I sat back on my heels and tipped my head slightly to one side so he’d know it was coming. Twelve years evaporated in an instant as I sat on the edge of another bed and marveled at the brand-new bundle in my arms that would grow into the best person I ever knew. I’ve got you.

“I think, right now, you could be the worst thing I’ve ever smelled in my entire life.”

And suddenly there it was, my favorite view in the world. That big smile. That beautiful face. My boy. My father.

“Good one, Mum.” He closed his eyes, but that smile stayed.

Leonard had wandered over to the desk and was working his way along my little mugs’ lineup of creams and potions, picking each one up and turning it to the light to read the ingredients. I had no idea if he knew what any of it meant, but with his wispy gray hair and his glasses tilted up on the end of his nose he looked like the perfect mad scientist. He opened some to take a whiff, or squeeze a bit out and rub between his thumb and forefinger, and every now and again he’d turn to consult Norman.

“What’s this? Where do you put this one? How long do you use this for?” When he held up the packet of huge suppositories we’d been given by a well-meaning nurse at Truro hospital, his quizzical one-eyebrow raise made Norman laugh out loud, despite what it cost him. Leonard mimed putting one of the pills in his mouth and Norman shook his head and delicately pointed toward his side-shuffled little bum sticking out beyond the sheet. Leonard’s face contorted into a mask of faux shock and terror and they both burst into giggles again. A few seconds later I saw a mass of pinprick blood spots on the sheet that covered Norman’s hip and I hoped the laugh had been worth it.

When Norman closed his eyes to recover from the effort Leonard went back to examining the pharmaceutical stash on the desk.

“Does any of this stuff actually work, Sadie?”

None of it. “Oh, you know, maybe. Sometimes, some of it. For a while.”

I really don’t know how much I’ve spent over the years, but my guess is that I’d be able to buy my very own suite at a Premier Inn for what I’d wasted on all those useless creams. I’d often fantasized that there was a factory somewhere churning out different-colored stinky salves to keep up with the demands of desperate parents looking for relief for their kids. Red? Blue? Hey, let’s try a purple one this week and add the water from an underground spring in the upper Peruvian Andes for good measure.