back to breathing rather noisily through his mouth. I manage to mark two pages with multiple red slashes and notes before Billy stirs again.
“I think I’m hungry now,” he says, capping his pen precisely and rummaging through his bag that has a picture of a cartoon orange fish on it. He removes a Tupperware box and a carton of orange juice and places them on the desk. He hesitates for a second, probably because Peter and I are staring at him as if he’s in a Harold Pinter play. “I like banana sandwiches,” he says somewhat mournfully.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” I don’t need Peter’s pitying glance at me to know that was too hearty.
Billy sighs. “I just think they taste nicer in the park.”
A panicky feeling kindles to life in my stomach like a nest of baby birds. “Oh, erm,” I stammer. “I thought we’d stay here until Uncle Dylan comes back. Here. In the office. Safely,” I finish.
Peter snorts.
“The park is safe,” Billy says earnestly. “Dylan and me went there earlier, and it’s got a slide and a wooden castle,” he finishes with a longing expression.
The nest of birds in my stomach gather strength and start to fly. He wants me to take him out. Out into the world where other people are and where there are things about that might damage him. I imagine Dylan turning up and having to tell him that I’ve lost or broken Billy. Then I look at his small face and messy hair and sigh. I know when I’m fucking beaten.
“Okay,” I say heavily. “We’ll go to the park. Peter can go home.” Billy’s squeal of delight almost drowns out Peter’s cheer. “Where he will revise this document and present it to me by nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I add silkily.
Peter nods resignedly as I hand the document over and then hightails it out of the office quicker than a rabbit from a fox.
I stand up and look down at Billy where he’s sitting on the chair, his legs swinging and the light catching on his tiny Star Wars Converse. “Come on, then,” I say in a voice similar to the one Marie Antoinette probably used before they stuck her on a tumbril and told her they were going out for a drive.
It doesn’t have any effect on Billy. He grins and starts shoving stuff somewhat haphazardly into his bag. I resist the impulse to help him, remembering the lecture I’d got off Dylan the other day about letting him develop tiny bits of independence.
When he’s finished, he jumps down off the chair and pulls his coat on before looking up at me expectantly. I freeze. What does he want now? Then I see the hand he’s holding out to me, and I swallow and reach down to take it. It’s sticky and slightly grubby, but it’s warm, and he looks up at me trustingly.
For a brief second, I have a flashback to being a child and looking up at my mother with the same expression. Her smile had been wide and warm, her black hair shining in the sunlight, her eyes soft and loving. I blink. Over the years, her image had lapsed into a dim, gentle shadow, but at this second, she’s startlingly clear in my head.
Billy's hand tightens and brings me back into the moment, and I swallow hard, feeling off-balance. “Are you alright, Uncle Gabe?” he asks, and something about the trust in his eyes makes me open my mouth.
“I just remembered my mother, that’s all. I’m fine.”
“Where is she?”
“Erm.” I try to remember what Jude said Asa had told Billy about his own mum. It comes back to me in a rush. “She’s in heaven,” I say gently.
He studies me intently, and there’s something ancient about his eyes. “My mummy’s in heaven too. Do you think they know each other?”
“I’m sure they do,” I say hoarsely. “They’re probably sitting in chairs together with a cup of tea, watching us.”
His nose wrinkles. “But not all the time?” he clarifies.
I smile shakily, thinking back over the years of my bad behaviour. “No,” I say quickly. “Definitely not all the time.”
“I think your mummy will be very happy that Dylan loves you,” Billy says sunnily. “He’s a very nice person to have love you. He smells nice.”
“He is.” I stop and clear my throat, hoping for a very brief, silly second that my mother can see Dylan. “He is a very lovely person.” I pause. “And yes, he does smell