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‘Yes, love?’ Sally glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
‘You know, I invited Millie for Christmas. Do you want me to tell her she can’t come? Do you want to cancel Christmas?’ He held his breath.
‘No.’ Sally put down the brush and pushed her shoulders back, standing courageously to attention. George remembered as a kid watching her do the same action just before she sang in one of the local pubs or clubs. Fighting her nerves and psyching herself up, ready for a performance and here she was again, preparing for yet another performance. His poor mum.
‘We’re going to have a great Christmas,’ she said and plastered on a brave smile. ‘We don’t need your dad to have a good time. In fact, it will be better without him.’
There was a knock on the door.
‘Can I come in?’ Owen said from the other side.
George leapt to let Owen in.
‘I hope you like strong tea,’ Owen said, placing a tray of tea and toast onto a small table.
‘I do.’ Sally moved across the room and touched Owen’s arm. ‘Thank you, lovie. I don’t know what I’d have done today, if I hadn’t had George and you here to look after me.’
‘And you’ve made toast,’ George said, grabbing a slice.
‘I’ve also looked at the damaged door. I think I can fix it if you have tools.’
‘In the shed in the backyard,’ George said. ‘Is woodwork another one of your hidden skills?’
Owen shrugged. ‘My grandpa taught me a few things.’
