‘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.
‘What do you know?’ she retorts.
‘Everything,’ he fires back confidently, making me smile and Gracie scoff. William gives a nod in greeting to everyone, then makes a huge fuss over Harry, waving a Harrods bag under his nose. ‘Look what I’ve got,’ he teases. ‘Mummy called me and said you got a head teacher’s award last week for being helpful to the other children! Well done, you!’
I chuckle to myself. Yes, that was before he stole all of their socks.
‘I did!’ The excitement in Harry’s eyes spikes my own. I know what’s in that bag. ‘Is it for me?’
‘Yes, for you.’ Gracie pushes the bag away and gives William a warning look that he notes quickly, backing off. ‘But first, tell me how your day was.’
‘Don’t ask!’ Josephine yells, collecting some plates. ‘Odd socks everywhere!’
Gracie sighs and Harry’s little head starts bobbing up and down in agreement. ‘Five today, Nan.’
‘Five?’ Gracie sounds shocked, which is understandable. We’ve had one or two pairs, but five is a record and it’s shaken my poor little boy’s world to the core.
‘Yes, five.’ Harry removes himself from Gracie’s lap and puffs his little chest out in exasperation, but he says no more. He doesn’t need to. Now everyone is here, he wants proof that five isn’t going to increase. George and I stand, joining William, Greg, and Ben, and we all lift our trousers, revealing our socks for inspection. I really don’t need to be in the line-up – my boy knows he can depend on his daddy – but I comply anyway, just for the sake of it. Plus, I adore his concentrating face when he does this.
I feel William peek out of the corner of his eye to me and I chance a glance, although I know I won’t like what I see. He’ll have that tired look on his face.
‘He’s a kid. Humour him,’ I whisper, ignoring William’s sardonic puff of laughter. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that this little quirk has nothing to do with him being a kid and everything to do with him being my kid. ‘It’s just the socks,’ I assure him.