Mark nodded.
‘Until I tell him to leave.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Mark said, awed by this reckless courage.
‘I would. I’ll be straight with you, Mark. At the right time, I’ll square up to your father and order him off my premises.’
‘Wow!’ he said, impressed. He moved closer and spoke like a conspirator. ‘Will you promise me something?’
She too leaned close. ‘What?’ she whispered dramatically.
‘That when you order Dad off your premises I can be there to see. Promise me.’
She laughed. ‘You wretched boy. All right, I promise you can be there to enjoy it.’
They jumped apart as Justin appeared with air of suppressed triumph.
‘Everything is done upstairs,’ he said. ‘If you’d care to look.’
‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ she asked.
‘Come and see.’
She was beginning to suspect the truth, but it was still a surprise to find the beds made perfectly and all the clothes neatly hung up in the wardrobe.
She realised that he was watching her closely, enjoying her expression.
‘Well done,’ she said. ‘Can you cook as well?’
‘Try me.’
‘I intend to,’ she said incredulously.
But again he proved himself better than her doubts. His egg and chips might not have been haute cuisine but they were properly cooked, even if both father and son drenched everything in tomato ketchup. She had to smile at the sight of them acting in unison, wiping their plates with bread, fearful of losing the last smidgen of ketchup.
When the meal was over she leaned back, watching him, her arms folded.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Well?’
She inclined her head slightly towards the sink.
‘I did the cooking,’ he said indignantly.
‘Yeah, but we invited ourselves, Dad,’ Mark muttered.
‘Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.’ He rose. ‘Where’s the washing-up liquid?’
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, laughing.
In the end they all did it together in an atmosphere that was more pleasant than she would have dared to hope. Afterwards Mark asked to watch the television, and was amazed to discover that the set only received four terrestrial channels and had no teletext. Nor was there a video.