‘Ouch!’ He starts rubbing the sore spot as he pouts to himself. ‘A bit unnecessary, isn’t it?’

I keep my mouth shut. I’m not stupid, unlike George.

‘Are you done telling George off, Nana Josie?’ Harry asks. His cute question has everyone in the room smiling, even George. ‘Because I’m rather hungry.’

‘I’m done, Harry.’ She gives George an affectionate rub of the shoulder, her way of making friends, and takes her seat.

‘That’s a relief,’ George breathes, his hand now twitching over his spoon. ‘Can we start now?’

‘No!’ Harry shoots his little head back to the table. ‘Everyone needs to close their eyes so we can say grace.’ We all follow through on his order immediately, and he begins. ‘Thank you, God, for Nana Josephine’s cakes. Thank you for giving me the best mummy and daddy in the whole world, and thank you for Nanny Gracie, Pappy William, Nana Josie, Uncle Gregory, Uncle Ben, and old George. Amen.’ I smile and open my eyes, but snap them shut in an instant when he shouts, ‘Wait!’ I inwardly frown, wondering who else he’s grateful for, and come up with nothing. So I wait for him to continue. ‘And please, God, make the mummies and daddies of all the children in the land wear matching socks.’

I smile and start to peel open my eyes again.

‘Amen,’ we all sing in unison; then everyone collects their spoons and dives in, me and Harry included, except my boy is more ravenous than me.

‘Nana, may I ask you a question?’ he asks, mouth full.

‘Of course! What would you like to know?’

‘Why does Daddy call you a twenty-four-carat gold treasure?’

Josephine chuckles, as do George and I at his genuinely curious question. ‘Because I’m special,’ she says, flicking fond eyes to me briefly before returning her attention to my boy, ‘which makes you a thirty-six-carat gold treasure.’

‘Mummy says I’m very special.’

‘Mummy is right,’ Josephine confirms. ‘You’re very, very special.’

‘I concur,’ I interject, observing George working his way quickly through his first helping. There will be no contribution to conversation while he’s eating.

A quiet settles around the table as everyone savours Josephine’s delicious cake, and I’m aware of the continuous fond smile she has nailed on my perfect boy. His mummy had a strange effect on me, but this little man sent the world that she made light into blinding beauty. Everything seems utterly perfect when he’s around, without any need to make it that way. Kind of. OK, so our home looks like a Lego bomb exploded in it, but I’m dealing with that. We lost the nappies, bottles and irritating squeaky toys and gained Legos, plastic crockery, and blunt knives and forks. I’ll live. Just.

‘Are we too late?’

I look up and see Greg stroll in, Ben in tow, both looking even more cheerful than usual. It gets me thinking.

‘Uncle Gregory! Uncle Ben!’ Harry’s down from the table faster than lightning, running at his honorary uncles.

‘Harry, boy!’ Gregory catches him and chucks him onto his shoulder, all very neatly. ‘We have exciting news,’ Gregory tells him, all enthusiastic and tossing a look at his partner, who winks before claiming Harry from Greg. Now I’m really thinking. Exciting news? I rest back in my chair and fold my arms.

I don’t need to push for enlightenment because my boy does it on my behalf, just as curious as me. ‘What? What exciting news?’

‘Uncle Ben and I are having a baby!’

I swallow down a choke of shock, glancing at George who is actually choking. ‘Blimey!’ he splutters around his cake as Josephine hurries over and starts smacking him on the back.

I sit up straight and find Harry, my shock turning into pure amusement when I watch him recoil, a little wayward curl falling onto his forehead. He starts shaking his head as Ben sets him on his feet. ‘But who will be the mummy, Uncle Gregory?’

I snort all over the table, as do Josephine and George, but Greg and Ben just smile fondly at the cute little sod. ‘It won’t have a mummy.’ Greg drops to his haunches, getting eye level with my boy.

Harry frowns. ‘So you’ll have a baby growing in your tummy?’

‘Harry Hart, you little beauty!’ Greg laughs. ‘Men can’t have babies growing in their tummies. I’m going to let Uncle Ben explain how we’re going to have a baby.’

‘You are?’ Ben blurts, his cheeks flushing crimson, only propelling my laughter into stomach-aching territory.

I get a filthy look thrown at me from Greg, making me pull up and shrug an apology. ‘C’mon, Ben,’ I pipe up, popping a piece of cake in my mouth and chewing slowly. ‘How do two men have a baby?’

He rolls his eyes and looks to Greg, accepting his nod of encouragement and joining him on the floor with Harry. ‘There’s a lady. She’s going to help us.’

‘What lady?’

‘A nice lady.’

‘Does she wear matching socks?’

We’re all snorting again, including Greg and Ben this time. ‘Yes,’ Greg laughs. ‘Yes, Harry, she wears matching socks.’

‘Oh good. Then your baby will be perfect like me.’

I laugh uncontrollably at his matter-of-fact remark. I should tell him not to be so cocky, but how could I possibly do that when I’m the one who’s constantly telling him he’s perfect. When he’s covered in mud after a day in the park, he’s perfect. When he has spaghetti sauce smeared up to his ears, he’s perfect. When he’s surrounded by the horrific mess of his bedroom, he’s perfect.

‘Hello!’

I snap out of my hysterics and musings at the sound of the familiar greeting, followed by Harry dashing out of the kitchen, losing all interest in Greg and Ben’s exciting news. ‘Nan and Pap are here!’ he shouts, disappearing down the corridor.

‘Congratulations,’ I say as Gregory and Ben pull themselves from the floor. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

‘Wonderful news!’ Josephine sings, taking them both in a bear hug. ‘Such wonderful news!’

Poor George grunts his happiness before diving back into the cake he’s been waiting all day to eat.

‘I’m here, my precious boy!’ Gracie laughs, and I hear the tell-tale sign of colliding bodies from where Harry has made it to her and performed his usual launch at his nan. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you!’

‘I’ve missed you, too, Nan.’

I roll my eyes. She and William took him out for dinner last night. But knowing her fierce adoration of my boy, I can relate. The school days drag painfully.

‘Uncle Gregory and Uncle Ben are having a baby!’

‘I know,’ Gracie replies, smiling fondly across the room to Greg and Ben as she strides into the room with my boy coiled around her. I’m not surprised she knows. They’ve formed quite a bond in recent years.

‘Hello, Gracie,’ I say.

‘Miller.’ She smiles, sitting herself at the table. ‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Hello, darling. Would you like cake?’

‘God, no! My hips are suffering because of your cake.’

‘Your hips are just fine.’ William strides in, giving the back of Gracie’s head a distasteful look.