“Yes.”
That’s the version she needs. The simple one. The one where adults make it work without announcing the mechanics.
She nods, satisfied, and goes back to colouring, pressing so hard the pen squeaks.
My phone starts ringing somewhere behind me. I can’t see it on any of the kitchen counters or the coffee table.
“Lu,” I say. “I’m just going to take a call. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” She gives me a thumbs-up without looking up, which feels like permission.
I head to the spare bedroom and grab my phone as it buzzes itself off the desk where I left it when I was looking for some pens for Lucy.
I glance at the display. “Hey,” I say. “And before you ask, yes, I’ll be at the rugby on Saturday.”
There’s a pause. Then a laugh.
“I hadn’t even said anything yet,” Declan chuckles.
“You always call to check up on me,” I reply.
“That’s because you always forget,” he says. “Anyway. Since I’ve got you…”
I lean against the doorframe, already suspicious.
“The sixth form I work with are running a photography block,” he says. “They need someone to deliver it.”
“Okay.”
“Four weeks,” he adds. “Two hours on a Thursday.”
I blink. “You want me to teach?”
“Yeah,” Declan says. “Well, more be a guest lecturer.”
I glance around the room. Camera bags stacked in the corner. Lenses I haven’t touched in months. A calendar with more white space than I’m comfortable admitting to.
“I haven’t taught before,” I say.
“You’ve explained cameras to all sorts of amateurs,” he replies. “Teenagers are at least honest about being confused.”
“That’s a ringing endorsement.”
“They asked if I knew anyone,” he says. “You were the obvious answer.”
“When would it be?” I ask.
“Starts in two weeks,” he says. “Same slot every Thursday. I’ll send you the details. You can look and decide.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he replies. “Just thought I’d ask you before I asked someone rubbish.”
“Always a compliment.”
“Correct,” he says. “And you’re still coming to the rugby.”
“Yeah, mate.”
