‘Neither do I but the flag’s a big plus.’
His little brother roars with laughter, even if the private frown on his face afterwards suggests he doesn’t get it at all.
So begins our terrible joke competition. The worst one wins.
I wrote a song about a tortilla . . . but actually it’s more of a wrap.
What do you call a crocodile that’s also a detective? An investigator.
They go on and on. They get worse and worse.
And all the while, as I watch these boys, it strikes me that I really have no idea whether Leo’s good intentions will last, or indeed whether he’ll decide to devote his life to sport or academia.
I also know Mum was right.
Before I had kids, I assumed that raising a child would be like taking a piece of Play-Doh and moulding it into your desired shape.
But by fifteen, Leo is already his own person. In all honesty, he always was. All we parents can do is our best, in the hope that our best is good enough. I never expected it to be easy. I alsodidn’t expect it to be this hard. But in the meantime, there are moments like this.
When my boys and I are laughing, and my heart is so full it could burst.
Chapter 54
‘Are you heading upstairs, Lisa?’ Andrea asks, as I hit send on my umpteenth email of the day. ‘We haven’t had a catch-up before the scheduling meeting. Maybe we could talk as we walk.’
‘Good idea,’ I say, grabbing my bag, pens and folder as she and I walk along the corridor together.
‘I read your script notes forMy Teenage Bombsiteand I must say this project sounds excellent,’ she says.
‘Well, it hasn’t been without its teething troubles.’
‘Nothing good ever is.’ I open the door for her. ‘Oh, by the way – this is going to be a marathon meeting, so when you do the notes, would it be possible to try and send them round before tomorrow? It would be very helpful.’
I keep walking. I consider not saying anything. And then—
‘Actually Andrea,’ I say casually, ‘I think it’s probably someone else’s turn to take the notes.’
She looks at me, confused. ‘Um . . . all right,’ she says, shiftily. ‘I’ll ask Angikka to take them.’
‘Angikka is in the south of France.’
‘Suzy then.’
My feet come to an abrupt halt.
‘Andrea, can I level with you?’
She clutches her necklace. ‘What is it?’
‘Look, I’m sure this is completely unconscious but . . . do you realise you only ever ask the women to take notes? In all the years we’ve worked together, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask one of the men.’
Her mouth pinches. ‘That can’t possibly be true. Can it?’
I nod. ‘I think so.’
We start walking again, slowly. ‘Good Lord.’
‘Thing is, none of us mind doing our bit, Andrea. I’m the last person to try and—’
