Jill sat at the kitchen table, watching her son unclip the smoke alarm and replace the battery with ease. It turned out you didn’t even need a screwdriver. There was a clip you pressed on the side. She was both thankful and irritated. He’d also changed two lightbulbs for her, tightened up a leaky tap in the main bathroom, moved the boxes up into the roof space and cleared the weeds from her veggie patch. He’d made it back inside from the garden just as an afternoon storm had hit.

‘You know, Mum,’ said Pete as he replaced the cover on the smoke alarm and then stepped back down the ladder without a single wobble, ‘if you moved out of this place into something new, something smaller, the smoke alarms would be hardwired in and you wouldn’t even have to worry about this type of thing.’

Jill sipped her tea and eyed him over the top of her cup. ‘That’s great,’ she said, placing the cup back down on its saucer. ‘Except that I don’t want to move anywhere else. Come and drink your coffee before it gets cold.’

Pete folded up the stepladder and stowed it back away in the garage before coming to join her at the table.

‘But why not move into that village where Wayne and Barb went? Wouldn’t it be nice to have them as neighbours again?’

Jill made a face at him. ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a toddler who needs to be cajoled. I told you, I don’t want to move.’

Pete rolled his eyes. ‘I wasn’t treating you like a toddler, I was trying to help. Mimi told me you nearly fell off the chair trying to change those batteries the other night.’

Jill immediately wished she hadn’t mentioned her near miss to Mimi. She’d only been making conversation, revealing some of her own vulnerabilities in the hopes it might help Mimi to do the same.

‘I didn’t nearly fall, I was exaggerating.’

‘Ah yes, exaggeration is something you’re well known for,’ Pete said sarcastically. ‘Just make sure you call me next time you need something like that done. I’m happy to help, Mum. Seriously, any time.’

Jill softened. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she beamed at him. ‘And that’s why you’re my favourite son.’

Pete gave a bark of laughter. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, we all know Tony’s your favourite.’

‘What are you talking about? No, he’s not. I was only kidding anyway, of course. I don’t have favourites.’

‘Yes, you do,’ said Pete, slurping his coffee. ‘It’s okay, Darren and I always accepted that Tones got favourite status cause he was your first. We forgave you long ago.’

‘But, honestly, I don’t favour him.’

‘Sure, you do.’