Part 53: link
Gwen feels slightly more energetic after her bath. She did doze off for a bit, lulled by the warm water and the scent of lavender, but she woke up before Arthur came back in to check on her. He would have just worried.
Arthur has made up the sofa for her in the living room, and she is grateful for it.
“Thank you, I was getting tired of the bedroom,” she tells him as she walks out, raking her fingers through her hair, now loose.
“I thought as much. You’re looking better,” he says, giving her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Merlin is coming over in a bit. He’s bringing me dinner, will that bother you?”
“We’ll see. What’s he bringing?”
“Egg salad,” he teases, earning him a glare. “He mentioned something about Subway.”
“Well, I can always go back to the bedroom if the smell starts to bother me,” she shrugs and makes herself cozy on the couch.
“No, love, don’t do that. I can call him, and—“
“Arthur, you need to eat. You don’t need to starve because of me. I don’t mind. Honest.”
Arthur joins her on the sofa, lifting her feet and sitting down before replacing them in his lap. He rubs them gently while she channel surfs.
“That feels nice,” she says, closing her eyes. Then she opens one and says, “You have to behave yourself, though. Socks stay on.” She closes her eye again and listens to the commercials on the telly while Arthur works the muscles in her feet.
Arthur’s phone rings. He reaches for it, growling. “Why is Morgana calling my phone?” He answers it, “Hello, Morgana.”
“Yes, she’s awake, and I think she’s starting to feel better.”
“A little,” Gwen supplies.
“Here,” Arthur hands her the phone and goes back to rubbing her feet.
“Is he totally smothering you?” Morgana asks.
“Not yet. I did have to, um, persuade him to stop nagging me about keeping hydrated.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Threw an empty at his head.”
“Yes, I remember how charming you can be when you’re sick,” Morgana laughs.
“Hey, I’m a very nice person all the rest of the time. I’m allowed be a bitch when I’m sick if I want to,” she protests. Arthur laughs loudly at this.
“Anyway, I called earlier to see how your dress fitting went last night, but you probably can’t say anything with him sitting right there, can you?”
“I’ll try. It went very well. I’m very happy with it. The thing we were debating over?”
“Yes?”
“Fabulous. I’m very happy we tried it.”
“Oh good! So you’re keeping it in?”
“Yes, definitely.” Gwen notices Arthur staring, a puzzled look on his face. She rolls her eyes at him and he pouts.
“I actually did talk to Cedric for about ten seconds, but he didn’t tell me anything. I need Freya’s number, too; we need to go see him about dresses ourselves.”
Gwen gives her the number, and says, “Whatever you two choose is fine with me, you know that. You know what colors we’re going with.”
“Yes, dear, I know. You have nothing to worry about.”
There is a knock at the door.
“Come in, Merlin,” Arthur calls.
“Cedric did have a message for you,” Morgana continues.
“Yes?”
“He said that you are not to lose too much weight while you are ill because he is not going to completely remake the dress because you’ve gone and gotten emaciated.”
“Oh, yes he would. He says he won’t do it, but we both know he would,” Gwen says. “And he doesn’t need to worry; I’m sure I’ll regain anything I’ve lost by the time of the wedding.”
“He said you’re just perfect right now and if you screw it up he’s going to pitch a hissy.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Morgana, it hurts!” Gwen says, laughing.
“What are they talking about?” Merlin asks Arthur.
“I think Gwen’s wedding dress. She’s been talking in code for the past five minutes. What did you bring me?”
“Ah. Steak and cheese,” he says, and the two men walk to the table.
“I’ll stop in tomorrow afternoon and visit a bit, okay? I promise it’s not to babysit you,” Morgana says.
“All right, see you then. Merlin just walked in anyway, and I imagine he’s going to want to check and see how I’m doing under Nurse Arthur’s care.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Arthur calls from the kitchen.
“See you tomorrow, Gwenny.”
“Have a good night, Morgana. Tell Wayne hello for us.”
“I want you to try and have some of this soup,” Merlin comes back into the living room, holding the container of soup.
“Really?” Gwen asks, unsure.
“At least some of the broth. You need the nutrients.”
“Ugh. More liquid. I feel like I’m floating already.”
“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing I brought,” he says, scuttling back to the kitchen and returning a moment later with a box in his hands, “saltines!”
“Hooray…” Gwen says unenthusiastically. She snuggles down onto the couch, watching, against all logic, a cooking show. She hears Merlin rummaging in the kitchen, assumedly fixing Gwen’s dinner.
“When did you get a ladle?” Merlin asks.
“When Gwen moved in,” Arthur explains.
“Figures.”
Merlin comes in a couple minutes later, carrying a mug and a small paper plate with some crackers on it. “Supper,” he tells Gwen, and she lifts herself up to a seated position as Arthur wanders in, sitting in the chair, watching Merlin and Gwen.
“Mmm, nice and hot,” Gwen says, taking the mug. “I hate it when soup is only warm. Soup should be hot.” She smells it, and her stomach only protests a little.
“Okay?” Merlin asks. He puts his hand to her forehead, still finding no fever.
“We’ll see,” Gwen says, taking a very small sip.
“Your color is better,” he says, studying her. “Any new symptoms?” he asks.
“No. No other maladies have befallen me since this morning.” Nothing to do with food poisoning, anyway, Gwen thinks.
“When was the last time you…”
“I vomited around noon. But since then, nothing.”
“That’s good. Very good. And I’m not going to ask about the Gatorade,” he smiles.
“He told you, huh?”
“Thought it was hilarious. How’s the soup going down?”
“So far, so good. It’s really tasty. Thank your mum for me.”
“I will.”
“Merlin, tell Gwen what you got to do today,” Arthur suggests, poking his friend in the leg with his toe.
“I got to pet a puma.”
Gwen smiles. “You went and visited Freya.”
“Yep. I got to see the Siberian tiger, the puma, and the panther, all up close. The only one tame enough for me to touch was the puma. I really wanted to see the tiger closer, but she said that would be too dangerous.”
“Yes, Ivan. She told me about him. The zookeepers call him ‘Ivan the Terrible.’ She’s the only one he likes.” Gwen chuckles. “That woman and her cats,” she mutters, shaking her head before taking another sip of soup.
“I know, you should have seen her! They behaved like housecats around her. That tiger actually purred when she went in. She was there to give him a bloody great shot and he nuzzled her stomach with his head and purred! He was as big as she is; she had to reach up to scratch him behind the ears!”
“I imagine you’re spending quite a bit of money on zoo fare, eh?” Gwen smiles and tries a bite of cracker.
“Nah, I get in free now,” he grins. “She gave me a card. All I have to do is show it to the attendant and I can walk right in as if I own the place.”
“Ooo, look at you, all posh with your free zoo admission,” she teases.
“She is feeling better,” Merlin laughs. He stands, saying, “Arthur, your sandwich is getting cold.” He slaps Arthur on the shoulder as he walks past him to the kitchen where their dinner is waiting.
“Go ahead, love, I’m good,” Gwen tells him. He comes over to her and leans down to kiss her forehead.
She grabs his collar, preventing from standing, and whispers, “They did, didn’t they?”
“Yup.” He bends further down, kissing the side of her neck, before going back to eat.
After dinner, Merlin goes home (or to Freya’s; he’s a bit vague on that detail), and Arthur joins Guinevere on the sofa, sitting behind her so she can nestle against him. They don’t talk much, but they are comfortable in their silence, the television the only sound in the room. Arthur toys idly with her hair now and then, winding a curl around his finger, holding a lock to his upper lip as if it were a mustache, which makes Gwen laugh painfully once again; even attempting to braid it at one point.
“Really, Arthur, it’s not difficult,” she says, untangling the mess he’s made.
“Clearly it’s a skill that a man is not designed to have,” he decides.
“So, the millions of male hairdressers and fathers – including my own – out there that have no problem accomplishing this simple task would be…?” Gwen goads him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language,” he says, avoiding the question. She pinches him in response.
“Ow!” he says, but then wraps his arms around her and she rests her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes.
He reaches up and strokes her cheek with the backs of his fingers, down to her neck where he rests his hand and reaches up with his thumb to caress her cheek again.
“Yes. I think I’ve decided,” he says after a time.
“Decided what?”
“Which I like best. How your skin feels,” he caresses her face and neck again, as if proving his point. “How you smell is a very close second, though.”
Despite napping much of the day, Gwen is exhausted and falls asleep quickly, wrapped in Arthur’s arms. Arthur doesn’t fall asleep so quickly, unhappy about having to go to work the next day.
I could phone in… No. She’d just get mad at me. I’ll still get to spend the morning with her. I hate leaving her under normal circumstances, but even more so now that she’s ill. He holds her close, rubbing her back gently, and she snuggles against him in her sleep, content. Arthur closes his eyes. She’ll be fine.
FRIDAY
No, not again, Guinevere wakes up, her stomach pinching uncomfortably. She’d been so happy that the soup she drank stayed put, and now it seems it wants out. With a frustrated sigh, she disentangles herself from Arthur’s embrace, and staggers to the bathroom.
When she returns, she is hot, and she pulls the pajama bottoms off, leaving them on the floor before climbing into bed again.
“Everything all right?” Arthur asks.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” she says, turning to him.
“You were in there for a bit…” he pulls her to him, gently.
“Dry heaves,” she rests her head on his shoulder.
“I hate those. That’s almost worse than actually vomiting. All the work and none of the payoff.”
Gwen chuckles, saying, “I can do without the payoff right now, too, thank you.”
He hugs her to him, and his hand slides down to her backside. “Where are your trousers?”
“On the floor. I’m hot.”
“Yes, you are,” he says suggestively.
She slaps his chest weakly and smiles against his chest.
“Go back to sleep, love.”
SUNDAY
Arthur returns home from the firehouse to find Gwen and Morgana playing Mario Kart.
“Ah, so you found the Wii,” he laughs, dropping into a chair. He laughs even harder as Morgana drives off the side of a bridge, plunging Princess Peach and her little pink car into the black oblivion beyond.
“She’s kicking my ass,” Morgana moans.
“I’ve been playing on and off since last night,” Gwen says, her little green Yoshi on his motorbike zipping past a random opponent as she crosses the finish line in first place. She sets the controller down. “I’ve been really[i] bored,” she says, looking at Arthur.
“So you’re feeling better?” he asks, coming to kiss her cheek. She turns her face, kissing him on the lips. “Guess so,” he smiles, kissing her again.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she tells him, and he grins proudly. Yesterday an arrangement of daisies and other cheerfully bright-colored flowers was delivered with a card saying, [i]I miss you. Feel better. –A.
“And look, I’m even dressed,” she points at her clothes, her black capris and a plain grey v-neck t-shirt.
“Kind of,” Morgana clarifies; setting her own controller down, just having crossed the finish line herself, in last place.
“What? I could be seen in public like this,” Gwen protests. Morgana rolls her eyes.
“Eating yet?” he asks.
“Not much yesterday morning, just some tea. A bowl of cereal at lunch. But I told you that yesterday when you called,” she recalls. “I had some more of that soup last night, actually eating more than just the broth, with some toast. Everything stayed put, too.” She smiles at him.
“Have you had lunch?” he asks.
“I was waiting for you. I’m thinking macaroni and cheese.”
“Swanky,” he says, “I’ll go put on some water to boil, then. I’m hungry.”
“Are you sure you can manage?” she teases.
“I think I can handle putting water in a pot and putting it on the stove.”
Morgana’s mobile bursts forth with the chorus of “I’m Sexy and I Know It”, and she scrambles to answer it.
“Wayne,” Arthur and Gwen say to each other simultaneously.
Morgana grins at them and answers the phone. She stands, blows them a kiss, and rushes out of the door.
“Father’s birthday is Friday,” Arthur mentions over lunch. “Will the photo be ready by then?”
“Mm-hmm,” she nods, chewing. She swallows, then says, “They called yesterday. I’m going to pick it up tomorrow.”
“I can do that. I’m not working, you know.”
No, you can’t. “Don’t worry about it. I have some other things to pick up tomorrow anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow at her.
“Eat your lunch and don’t ask questions,” she commands.
“Yes, ma’am. We should take him to dinner,” he suggests, tactfully dropping the subject.
“Can we invite my father? They seem to be getting on so well,” she says.
“Of course. Let me call my father first and make sure he’s free,” he says, reaching for his phone. “Sorry, mealtimes are often the best time to catch him,” he explains as he dials.
Part 55: link
Gwen feels slightly more energetic after her bath. She did doze off for a bit, lulled by the warm water and the scent of lavender, but she woke up before Arthur came back in to check on her. He would have just worried.
Arthur has made up the sofa for her in the living room, and she is grateful for it.
“Thank you, I was getting tired of the bedroom,” she tells him as she walks out, raking her fingers through her hair, now loose.
“I thought as much. You’re looking better,” he says, giving her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Merlin is coming over in a bit. He’s bringing me dinner, will that bother you?”
“We’ll see. What’s he bringing?”
“Egg salad,” he teases, earning him a glare. “He mentioned something about Subway.”
“Well, I can always go back to the bedroom if the smell starts to bother me,” she shrugs and makes herself cozy on the couch.
“No, love, don’t do that. I can call him, and—“
“Arthur, you need to eat. You don’t need to starve because of me. I don’t mind. Honest.”
Arthur joins her on the sofa, lifting her feet and sitting down before replacing them in his lap. He rubs them gently while she channel surfs.
“That feels nice,” she says, closing her eyes. Then she opens one and says, “You have to behave yourself, though. Socks stay on.” She closes her eye again and listens to the commercials on the telly while Arthur works the muscles in her feet.
Arthur’s phone rings. He reaches for it, growling. “Why is Morgana calling my phone?” He answers it, “Hello, Morgana.”
“Yes, she’s awake, and I think she’s starting to feel better.”
“A little,” Gwen supplies.
“Here,” Arthur hands her the phone and goes back to rubbing her feet.
“Is he totally smothering you?” Morgana asks.
“Not yet. I did have to, um, persuade him to stop nagging me about keeping hydrated.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Threw an empty at his head.”
“Yes, I remember how charming you can be when you’re sick,” Morgana laughs.
“Hey, I’m a very nice person all the rest of the time. I’m allowed be a bitch when I’m sick if I want to,” she protests. Arthur laughs loudly at this.
“Anyway, I called earlier to see how your dress fitting went last night, but you probably can’t say anything with him sitting right there, can you?”
“I’ll try. It went very well. I’m very happy with it. The thing we were debating over?”
“Yes?”
“Fabulous. I’m very happy we tried it.”
“Oh good! So you’re keeping it in?”
“Yes, definitely.” Gwen notices Arthur staring, a puzzled look on his face. She rolls her eyes at him and he pouts.
“I actually did talk to Cedric for about ten seconds, but he didn’t tell me anything. I need Freya’s number, too; we need to go see him about dresses ourselves.”
Gwen gives her the number, and says, “Whatever you two choose is fine with me, you know that. You know what colors we’re going with.”
“Yes, dear, I know. You have nothing to worry about.”
There is a knock at the door.
“Come in, Merlin,” Arthur calls.
“Cedric did have a message for you,” Morgana continues.
“Yes?”
“He said that you are not to lose too much weight while you are ill because he is not going to completely remake the dress because you’ve gone and gotten emaciated.”
“Oh, yes he would. He says he won’t do it, but we both know he would,” Gwen says. “And he doesn’t need to worry; I’m sure I’ll regain anything I’ve lost by the time of the wedding.”
“He said you’re just perfect right now and if you screw it up he’s going to pitch a hissy.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Morgana, it hurts!” Gwen says, laughing.
“What are they talking about?” Merlin asks Arthur.
“I think Gwen’s wedding dress. She’s been talking in code for the past five minutes. What did you bring me?”
“Ah. Steak and cheese,” he says, and the two men walk to the table.
“I’ll stop in tomorrow afternoon and visit a bit, okay? I promise it’s not to babysit you,” Morgana says.
“All right, see you then. Merlin just walked in anyway, and I imagine he’s going to want to check and see how I’m doing under Nurse Arthur’s care.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Arthur calls from the kitchen.
“See you tomorrow, Gwenny.”
“Have a good night, Morgana. Tell Wayne hello for us.”
“I want you to try and have some of this soup,” Merlin comes back into the living room, holding the container of soup.
“Really?” Gwen asks, unsure.
“At least some of the broth. You need the nutrients.”
“Ugh. More liquid. I feel like I’m floating already.”
“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing I brought,” he says, scuttling back to the kitchen and returning a moment later with a box in his hands, “saltines!”
“Hooray…” Gwen says unenthusiastically. She snuggles down onto the couch, watching, against all logic, a cooking show. She hears Merlin rummaging in the kitchen, assumedly fixing Gwen’s dinner.
“When did you get a ladle?” Merlin asks.
“When Gwen moved in,” Arthur explains.
“Figures.”
Merlin comes in a couple minutes later, carrying a mug and a small paper plate with some crackers on it. “Supper,” he tells Gwen, and she lifts herself up to a seated position as Arthur wanders in, sitting in the chair, watching Merlin and Gwen.
“Mmm, nice and hot,” Gwen says, taking the mug. “I hate it when soup is only warm. Soup should be hot.” She smells it, and her stomach only protests a little.
“Okay?” Merlin asks. He puts his hand to her forehead, still finding no fever.
“We’ll see,” Gwen says, taking a very small sip.
“Your color is better,” he says, studying her. “Any new symptoms?” he asks.
“No. No other maladies have befallen me since this morning.” Nothing to do with food poisoning, anyway, Gwen thinks.
“When was the last time you…”
“I vomited around noon. But since then, nothing.”
“That’s good. Very good. And I’m not going to ask about the Gatorade,” he smiles.
“He told you, huh?”
“Thought it was hilarious. How’s the soup going down?”
“So far, so good. It’s really tasty. Thank your mum for me.”
“I will.”
“Merlin, tell Gwen what you got to do today,” Arthur suggests, poking his friend in the leg with his toe.
“I got to pet a puma.”
Gwen smiles. “You went and visited Freya.”
“Yep. I got to see the Siberian tiger, the puma, and the panther, all up close. The only one tame enough for me to touch was the puma. I really wanted to see the tiger closer, but she said that would be too dangerous.”
“Yes, Ivan. She told me about him. The zookeepers call him ‘Ivan the Terrible.’ She’s the only one he likes.” Gwen chuckles. “That woman and her cats,” she mutters, shaking her head before taking another sip of soup.
“I know, you should have seen her! They behaved like housecats around her. That tiger actually purred when she went in. She was there to give him a bloody great shot and he nuzzled her stomach with his head and purred! He was as big as she is; she had to reach up to scratch him behind the ears!”
“I imagine you’re spending quite a bit of money on zoo fare, eh?” Gwen smiles and tries a bite of cracker.
“Nah, I get in free now,” he grins. “She gave me a card. All I have to do is show it to the attendant and I can walk right in as if I own the place.”
“Ooo, look at you, all posh with your free zoo admission,” she teases.
“She is feeling better,” Merlin laughs. He stands, saying, “Arthur, your sandwich is getting cold.” He slaps Arthur on the shoulder as he walks past him to the kitchen where their dinner is waiting.
“Go ahead, love, I’m good,” Gwen tells him. He comes over to her and leans down to kiss her forehead.
She grabs his collar, preventing from standing, and whispers, “They did, didn’t they?”
“Yup.” He bends further down, kissing the side of her neck, before going back to eat.
After dinner, Merlin goes home (or to Freya’s; he’s a bit vague on that detail), and Arthur joins Guinevere on the sofa, sitting behind her so she can nestle against him. They don’t talk much, but they are comfortable in their silence, the television the only sound in the room. Arthur toys idly with her hair now and then, winding a curl around his finger, holding a lock to his upper lip as if it were a mustache, which makes Gwen laugh painfully once again; even attempting to braid it at one point.
“Really, Arthur, it’s not difficult,” she says, untangling the mess he’s made.
“Clearly it’s a skill that a man is not designed to have,” he decides.
“So, the millions of male hairdressers and fathers – including my own – out there that have no problem accomplishing this simple task would be…?” Gwen goads him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language,” he says, avoiding the question. She pinches him in response.
“Ow!” he says, but then wraps his arms around her and she rests her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes.
He reaches up and strokes her cheek with the backs of his fingers, down to her neck where he rests his hand and reaches up with his thumb to caress her cheek again.
“Yes. I think I’ve decided,” he says after a time.
“Decided what?”
“Which I like best. How your skin feels,” he caresses her face and neck again, as if proving his point. “How you smell is a very close second, though.”
Despite napping much of the day, Gwen is exhausted and falls asleep quickly, wrapped in Arthur’s arms. Arthur doesn’t fall asleep so quickly, unhappy about having to go to work the next day.
I could phone in… No. She’d just get mad at me. I’ll still get to spend the morning with her. I hate leaving her under normal circumstances, but even more so now that she’s ill. He holds her close, rubbing her back gently, and she snuggles against him in her sleep, content. Arthur closes his eyes. She’ll be fine.
FRIDAY
No, not again, Guinevere wakes up, her stomach pinching uncomfortably. She’d been so happy that the soup she drank stayed put, and now it seems it wants out. With a frustrated sigh, she disentangles herself from Arthur’s embrace, and staggers to the bathroom.
When she returns, she is hot, and she pulls the pajama bottoms off, leaving them on the floor before climbing into bed again.
“Everything all right?” Arthur asks.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” she says, turning to him.
“You were in there for a bit…” he pulls her to him, gently.
“Dry heaves,” she rests her head on his shoulder.
“I hate those. That’s almost worse than actually vomiting. All the work and none of the payoff.”
Gwen chuckles, saying, “I can do without the payoff right now, too, thank you.”
He hugs her to him, and his hand slides down to her backside. “Where are your trousers?”
“On the floor. I’m hot.”
“Yes, you are,” he says suggestively.
She slaps his chest weakly and smiles against his chest.
“Go back to sleep, love.”
SUNDAY
Arthur returns home from the firehouse to find Gwen and Morgana playing Mario Kart.
“Ah, so you found the Wii,” he laughs, dropping into a chair. He laughs even harder as Morgana drives off the side of a bridge, plunging Princess Peach and her little pink car into the black oblivion beyond.
“She’s kicking my ass,” Morgana moans.
“I’ve been playing on and off since last night,” Gwen says, her little green Yoshi on his motorbike zipping past a random opponent as she crosses the finish line in first place. She sets the controller down. “I’ve been really[i] bored,” she says, looking at Arthur.
“So you’re feeling better?” he asks, coming to kiss her cheek. She turns her face, kissing him on the lips. “Guess so,” he smiles, kissing her again.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she tells him, and he grins proudly. Yesterday an arrangement of daisies and other cheerfully bright-colored flowers was delivered with a card saying, [i]I miss you. Feel better. –A.
“And look, I’m even dressed,” she points at her clothes, her black capris and a plain grey v-neck t-shirt.
“Kind of,” Morgana clarifies; setting her own controller down, just having crossed the finish line herself, in last place.
“What? I could be seen in public like this,” Gwen protests. Morgana rolls her eyes.
“Eating yet?” he asks.
“Not much yesterday morning, just some tea. A bowl of cereal at lunch. But I told you that yesterday when you called,” she recalls. “I had some more of that soup last night, actually eating more than just the broth, with some toast. Everything stayed put, too.” She smiles at him.
“Have you had lunch?” he asks.
“I was waiting for you. I’m thinking macaroni and cheese.”
“Swanky,” he says, “I’ll go put on some water to boil, then. I’m hungry.”
“Are you sure you can manage?” she teases.
“I think I can handle putting water in a pot and putting it on the stove.”
Morgana’s mobile bursts forth with the chorus of “I’m Sexy and I Know It”, and she scrambles to answer it.
“Wayne,” Arthur and Gwen say to each other simultaneously.
Morgana grins at them and answers the phone. She stands, blows them a kiss, and rushes out of the door.
“Father’s birthday is Friday,” Arthur mentions over lunch. “Will the photo be ready by then?”
“Mm-hmm,” she nods, chewing. She swallows, then says, “They called yesterday. I’m going to pick it up tomorrow.”
“I can do that. I’m not working, you know.”
No, you can’t. “Don’t worry about it. I have some other things to pick up tomorrow anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow at her.
“Eat your lunch and don’t ask questions,” she commands.
“Yes, ma’am. We should take him to dinner,” he suggests, tactfully dropping the subject.
“Can we invite my father? They seem to be getting on so well,” she says.
“Of course. Let me call my father first and make sure he’s free,” he says, reaching for his phone. “Sorry, mealtimes are often the best time to catch him,” he explains as he dials.
Part 55: link