Milo
I stir the minestrone soup in the big pot on the stove and switch the phone over to my other ear. “So, how’s your mum?”
Oz sighs. “She’s fine. She’s in really good spirits and the operation went well.”
“So why the heavy breathing?”
“Because she’s insisting on staying in London. She says all her friends and her sister are here and the hospital is in easy reach.”
“She has got a point.”
He sighs again. “I know that. She always does have a point.” I smile at the thought of his small, fiery mother. “It’s just I want to look after her at home.”
“But that’s whatyouwant,” I say softly. “It’s not really about that, is it?”
“I know.” There’s a silence and I wonder whether I’ve offended him. “You’re right,” he says. “You’re always right.”
“Well, not always.”
“Mostly.”
“I’ll settle for that.” He laughs. “So, when will you be back?” I ask hesitantly.
“As soon as she’s out of the hospital and settled. Silas is coordinating with them so we can make sure she’s all set at home. We can’t come back before that, so I’d say we’re a few days off yet. If I don’t want to leave her when she’s out, we’ll come and take Cora back with us.”
“Well, that’s fine.”
“It isn’t fine. Cora will have forgotten us.”
I laugh. “Don’t be silly. Of course she won’t.”
“Is she okay? What’s she doing? Tell me everything.”
“She’s fine. She’s just gone down for a nap.” I pause. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t do much of anything, so how much more can I tell you?”
“Everything,” he says fervently, and I laugh.
Conversation detours into work and for the next ten minutes while I add pasta to the soup and move around the kitchen, we discuss the house and the arrangements for the film crew.
Finally satisfied that we’re on track and not in imminent danger of an imploding business, he moves on. “So, what are you doing tonight?”
I smile. “Not much. I’m making soup.”
“Oh my God. Your minestrone?”
“That’s the one.”
“I love that.” He pauses and when he speaks next his voice is arch. “So, you’re making Niall his dinner for when he gets back to the house you’re living in together?”
“I’m making myself some dinner,” I say patiently. “And sharing it with him. Yes. In the house he’s been kind enough to let me stay in because living in my own home currently would be like residing in the freezer section of Farmfoods.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, and afterward I’m teaching him yoga. Bye.”
I set the phone down neatly on the counter and laugh when it immediately rings again. “What?”
“You’re teaching him yoga?”
