“I adore them!” Ludo instantly dialled up the camp to ten. It was like someone had pressed a button. I suspected the only thing restraining him from more jazz hands was the fact he was holding a cup of tea. He was letting his guard down, so I let my walls crumble a little too. I played my ace card—although until that moment I had no idea I’d been holding it.
“My middle name comes from a musical, actually,” I said. “I bet you can’t guess what it is.”
You’d have thought I’d emptied a barrel of kittens on the floor. Ludo was bouncing around excitedly, unable to focus, unable to concentrate. Tea went everywhere. I grabbed his mug and put it on the bedside table.
“Friedrich, for Friedrich von Trapp?”
“Nope.”
“Oliver?”
I shook my head.
“Danny? FromGrease. Everyone’s mum lovesGrease.”
“No. It’s a lot sillier than that.”
Ludo was fanning his face with his hands in excitement. His blue eyes looked up at the ceiling as he searched his brain for plausibly implausible offerings.
“Javert? Sweeney Todd? Simba? Shrek!”
“Steady on.”
“You said silly.” He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose.
“Do you want a clue?”
“Absolutely not!”
Half an hour later I had a very good understanding of just how deep Ludo’s knowledge of musical theatre was. I had been everyone from Sunny Lumière Miller to Sunny Sancho Panza Miller. While I was very much over the game and ready to watch a film, Ludo refused a clue. Then he suggested Wonka, and for the sake of my own sanity, I told him he was close. He nearly jumped through the roof.
“Oh my God! Veruca? Beauregarde? Teavee?”
“So close.” He was frantic now, arms in full puppet mode.
“Augustus!”
“You got it.”
Ludo leapt up from the bed, punched the air, and did a happy dance. Then he bounced back on to bed and threw his arms around me, nearly strangling me in the process. My face was buried in a mess of black curls. The comforting smell of warm fresh linen, cashmere, and sea salt filled my lungs, and I breathed it in deeply. Ludo was squeezing me and wriggling from side to side like he’d just won the gayest lottery ever invented. I put my arms up and tentatively hugged him back. I could feel his tight, lean muscles moving underneath his cotton pyjamas.
Ludo broke off the hug, drawing away from me just far enough that we could see each other clearly. His eyes studied me. His smile was broad and toothy, creating dimples in the puppy fat of his chipmunk cheeks. One hand was still on my side, the other on my shoulder. He ran it up behind my neck and pulled my face closer to his. I thought he was going to kiss me, and in that moment, for all my better judgement, I was into it. I would have let him. He rested his forehead against mine.
“I can’t believe your mother named you after Augustus Gloop.” He pulled away, letting his hands drop. I let mine do the same. The moment slipped past us. Whatwasthat?
“Apparently, it was because I never stopped eating,” I said. “But, honestly, show me a baby that doesn’t eat non-stop. It’s, like, their only job.”
“Your mother sounds amazing,” he said. “I have to meet this woman.”
* * *
We watchedChicago. The film version starring Catherine Zeta-Jones, Renée Zellweger, and Queen Latifah. We sang all the songs together, although I had to keep begging Ludo to be quieter so we didn’t wake Mr and Mrs Gallacher, who by then must have been farting soundly into their blankets up the far end of the house.
“It’s nice to see you smiling so much,” Ludo said, as the film credits rolled. “I thought you were such a serious person when I first met you.”
“You just caught me at a bad moment. In fact, no, wait. Youcausedthe bad moment.”
“No, I think you’re a bit of a grumble-bum. For someone called Sunny, you’re very serious all the time!”
