‘Yup,’ Ed replies. ‘They even X-rayed her whole body, and do you know what they found? I couldn’t believe it.’
Tom’s on the edge of his seat here. ‘What?’
‘I’ll tell you,’ Ed says, obviously trying to come up with something quickly. ‘He showed us the X-ray and we saw. . . biscuits! Hundreds of them.’
Tom starts to giggle. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You don’t believe me? You know when Gubba visits and then you’re like “Where did the Jaffa Cakes go?” She eats them all. Honestly, I’m sure I saw a Wagon Wheel in there, too. She musthave swallowed it whole.’
Now Gary is laughing. I glance at Mum, who’s smiling but too exhausted to join in. I’m just glad we can make Tom forget what’s going on. At least for a second.
‘Now, I do believe it’s bedtime,’ Ed says. ‘And if someone doesn’t read me a story, I’ll never get to sleep.’
Tom throws his hand up like he’s in class. ‘I have a book. We can read it together.’
Ed takes Tom upstairs while I ask if there’s anything I can do. ‘Dishes? Make tea? Anything?’
‘Just being here is enough,’ Mum says. ‘You all right to sleep in Tom’s old room again?’
‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘I can get him ready and take him to school in the morning. Just go and get some sleep. Both of you.’
I make some tea while I clean up a little in the kitchen. It doesn’t really need it, Gary’s obviously been busy, but I need to feel helpful. I need to feel something other than useless. To add insult to injury, when I changed into my black ballet pumps, I failed to notice that the stitching was coming away from the right one. It’s now hanging off and flapping as I walk. Thankfully I also grabbed my trainers, I’ll just need to wear them tomorrow.
I’m halfway through my second cup when Ed creeps into the living room, his hair dishevelled.
‘He finally went to sleep,’ he tells me, gently closing the door. ‘I had to lie with him for a bit.’
‘There’s tea in the pot,’ I say, reaching for a cup. ‘Come and sit.’
He nods and flops down on the sofa beside me and for a while we just sit in silence, both of us just processing the day.
‘Bet you didn’t think this was how your day would go,’ I say, trying to be somewhat upbeat. ‘Hope you didn’t have to cancel plans.’
‘Just an open-mic night,’ he says. ‘Nothing I can’t do any other night of the week, it’s no problem.’
‘You’re performing, Ed? That’s amazing!’
As happy as I am for him, I’m also disappointed that he’s not spent the past few weeks curled up in a ball crying. He’s moving on.
‘It’s been. . . interesting,’ he replies with a smirk. ‘But the response has been mostly good.’
‘Mostly?’
He grimaces. ‘First time I went to a place near Covent Garden with Graham. I got through one song before someone yelled to get the bedwetter off stage. I’ve switched up my set since then. You can laugh, it’s fine.’
I can’t help but chuckle a little. ‘How is Graham? Still doing that set about his ex? She’ll be raging now he’s on the telly.’
I met Graham’s ex-wife, Sheena, once at the pub, but I wasn’t a fan. I don’t remember her laughing, or even smiling, the entire evening.
‘He’s great, actually,’ Ed replies. ‘Though he thinks we’re a couple of idiots for . . .
His voice trails away. Perhaps this conversation isn’t what either of us needs right now.
‘Anyway, I can sleep on the couch,’ Ed suggests. ‘I’ll tell your mum I wanted to let you rest. I don’t think now’s the time to get them up to speed with what’s been going on.’
‘I don’t want to sleep alone,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sorry if that’s selfish but—’
‘It’s fine,’ he replies. ‘You don’t need to explain. We can do that.’
