“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”
Callan waves his hand. “I could have said no. I’m not going to fall off the wagon. I’ve got too many reasons to stay sober.”
“You do?” Is it wrong to want to be one of them?
“The baby, for one.”
I lean against the counter. “Doesn’t he have a name yet?”
Callan shakes his head. “Niamh hasn’t chosen one.”
“Don’t you get a say? He’s your son too.”
Callan works on the dishwasher in silence for a couple of minutes. “I’m sure we’ll discuss it when Niamh’s ready. He’s not even a day old yet.”
I think a change of subject is in order. “I finished the hippo rattle. I’ll give it to you in the morning.”
“Thanks. There. It should be all fixed now.” He lifts the back on and screws it into place. “Would you mind giving me a hand pushing this back into place? It was a pain in the arse to get out.”
“I bet.”
I take one side of the dishwasher while Callan takes the other. It takes some doing, but we manage to manoeuvre it under the counter. I have no idea how he got it out on his own. He plugs the dishwasher in and switches it on. There are no sparks, and the lights come on.
“All done.”
“Thanks. I should probably stack it to keep Irene happy.”
Callan chuckles. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. As a thank you for suggesting me for the job.”
We work together to stack the glasses into the dishwasher. It’s amazing how many it can hold. Sadly, there are still lots of glasses left. I turn the tap on to wash them. Callan dries. It brings back happy memories.
“What are you smiling about?” Callan asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
He nudges me with his shoulder. “You never were a good liar.”
“I was thinking about all the odd jobs we did to make money when we were kids.”
“Washing cars,” Callan recalls.
“Mowing lawns.”
“Washing up for Mrs Kelly.”
I chuckle. “She was never happy.”
“Nope. She made us do it again or docked us ten pence each.”
“Sometimes both.”
We laugh.
“There are some happy memories, aren’t there?” I turn my face to look at Callan.
