Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,26

them back.”

“And Billy,” I say thoughtfully. “I think we could have Billy more.”

He looks startled and pleased, and warmth runs through me. I love to make him happy. “Yes,” he says. “And Billy. I think he’ll like that.” He shoots me a glance. “So, how did it go?”

I square my shoulders. “Oh, it was absolutely fine. Billy and I got on. I think you can easily say that I’m a safe pair of hands when it comes to children.”

“Dylan!” comes a shout and Billy hurls himself into Dylan’s arms.

“Have you had a nice day?” Dylan asks.

Billy smiles widely. “Oh, yes. I’ve had such a nice time with Uncle Gabe.”

I puff up a bit and smile smugly at Dylan.

Billy looks over at me and grins. “I haven’t said that rude word, Uncle Gabe, so I can still have balloons and doughnuts.” Dylan stiffens, and I shake my head at the child, but there’s no stopping him. He smiles at me reassuringly. “Don’t worry as well, Uncle Gabe. I asked William over there what speed was and where I could get it for the elephants. He’s going to ask his mummy.”

I swallow hard, aware of Dylan’s head turning slowly to mine as a woman stands up and begins to march across the playground, clutching the hand of a truculent boy who I presume is William.

“Wow, is that the time?” I say quickly. The woman gains on us and Dylan shakes his head with a resigned look on his face. “Ooh, I’m so tired.” I fake a wide yawn. “Time to go,” I say brightly.

Gabe Does Eurovision

Gabe

I let myself into the house and lean back against the front door with a weary sigh. Home.

“Gabe, is that you?” Dylan shouts from the lounge, and I feel the automatic uptick of my lips. Home and Dylan.

“Yes, it’s me. I finished early, and if I ever agree to work on a Saturday again, you have my permission to tie me to the bed and… What are you doing?”

Dylan looks up from where he and Jude are kneeling at the wide coffee table. “Just putting the food out and sorting out the games.”

“Oh.” I stare at the two of them. “And is there a particular reason why you’re dressed as a ninja with eye damage? Or is that something I’m about to find out about you?”

He blinks. He has on tight black trousers and a black shirt and is wearing square, red-tinted glasses. “I’m Bono.”

“Well, of course you are. Why?”

“It’s Eurovision, babe. I told you.”

“Hmm, I think I might have blocked that.”

“Or you just weren’t listening after I mentioned the Eurovision Song Contest party.”

I nod. “Yes, I think your version is probably more truthful.” I look around the room, which is festooned with bright bunting, and then at Jude who is wearing very tight stripy trousers and a see-through black top. “And what have you come as?”

He gestures down at his outfit. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m Michael Hutchence.”

“Nothing is obvious about this whole thing.” I pause. “Oh my God, what is Charlie Hunnam dressed in?”

“Gabe,” Dylan says in a reproving tone. “He’s an audience member. That’s very obvious.”

“It’s very obvious he’s pissed off,” I observe as the dog trundles towards me dressed in a Union Jack tutu and with disco ball deely boppers on his head. “You poor fucker,” I say to him. “Couldn’t you run fast enough?”

“No, and neither can you.” Dylan comes towards me, and before I can duck, he sticks something on my head.

“What the fuck is happening?”

Dylan pulls something over my shoulders, unfolding a flurry of bright fabric before tying it around my neck. He decorates me with a few more things and takes a step back. As if synchronised, he and Jude burst into peals of laughter. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a white tabard with a red cross on it and a Union Jack flag that he’s tied around my neck like a cape. He’s accentuated the outfit with a bright red wig with pigtails.

“What am I supposed to be?”

Dylan blinks in quite a disbelieving way. “You’re Saint George, the patron saint of England.”

“Was he a lawyer?” I fiddle with my cape. “And a part-time superhero?”

He tuts and reaches out to straighten my cape. “I tried to get you another costume, but it didn’t come in time, so I’ve improvised.”

“And where does the wig come in?”

He shrugs. “It was the only one they had left in the shop.”

I’d like to point out that they’re not