Page 55 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
“Mother and baby doing well?”
“Far as I could tell. I mean, Dave brought the nipper downstairs to show me, so I’m guessing there weren’t any medical emergencies going on.”
Phil gave me a smile of the sort he never lets out in public. “Good to hear it. Fancy a drink to celebrate?”
“Uh . . . better not. I’m driving, and I already had a couple at the White Hart with Dave.”
He shrugged. “So stay the night. The cats’ll cope.”
He had a point. “All right, then. What are we drinking? I was on beer at the pub.”
“Beer it is, then.” He grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge, opened them, and passed one to me. We sat down on the sofa and put our feet up on the table.
I’d taken my boots off already. I’m not that much of a slob.
“Here’s to Dave and his family, and especially the newest member,” Phil said a bit on the formal side, raising his bottle.
“To the sprog,” I agreed, and we both drank.
After all the excitement of the evening, I was yawning before I’d even finished my first bottle. Phil told me I might as well go to bed, which was fair enough, but then he followed me and proceeded to wake me up pretty thoroughly.
Not that I was complaining, mind, but I thought the logic was a bit lacking.
We lay there afterwards, catching our breath, and it struck me we’d never talked about it. I mean, I thought I knew what he’d say. He’d never brought up the subject, but there’d been hints, definitely. But I’d never asked him.
It felt like the right time, now. I rolled over a bit so I could look at him. “Do you think we’ll ever . . . I mean, one day, do you think you’d wanna have kids?”
Phil stroked my hair and didn’t speak for a moment.
I didn’t hold my breath. Honest.
My chest still felt a lot easier somehow when he finally spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to have kids. Not right now, but . . . Yeah.”
“Good,” I said, surprising myself by how much I meant it, and snuggled up closer. “And the moving-in thing, you want to do that, right? Move into mine?”
“Course I bloody do.” He dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “You just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll start packing. Tomorrow, if you like.”
I knew he didn’t mean literally tomorrow. He’d have to give notice to his landlord and stuff. And more to the point, I’d have to clear out the wardrobe so his posh suits and cashmere sweaters wouldn’t get crumpled. But it was a nice thought. “Tell you what, we’ll say Christmas by the latest, yeah?”
“By Christmas,” Phil murmured into my hair, a smile in his voice, and Christ, it felt good to finally have it sorted.
I don’t even remember when he turned off the light.
We’d been invited over to Greg’s for Sunday lunch, so after a nice long lie-in that got a bit energetic, we showered and then dashed to mine to feed two very irate cats. I thought Merlin would have my leg off before I’d managed to open the tin of cat food. Then I changed my clothes, and we headed off out to St. Leonards.
Cherry got a worryingly moist look in her eye when I told her about Dave’s happy news. I wasn’t sure if Greg noticed or not, and I wondered if I should warn him.
Nah, he’d find out soon enough if she was getting broody. Although whether it’d come to anything or not was a bit up in the air, at her age. Still, Dave and his missus had managed it, and they had to be older than my sis. And come to think of it, our own mum had been well past early forties when I’d made my debut appearance. So maybe Sis had genetics on her side, at that.
It was a weird thought. Me being an uncle, I mean. Actually, scratch that, it was way weirder thinking of Cherry being a mum. I wondered what Mum would think. She wasn’t the sort who kept dropping hints about grandkids and knitting bootees on the off-chance, but I guessed she’d be pleased.
Still, carts before horses and all that. I bit my tongue to stop myself asking Cherry about it all while I helped her with the veg—Greg had a tendency just to roast everything if you left him to it, so Cherry had enlisted my help to try to keep the cholesterol count manageable. Well, that’s how she put it. I had a suspicion she was more worried about not fitting into her wedding dress come February.
“I never asked you—how did it go with Phil’s family?” Cherry asked, shifting cans and bottles around noisily in one of the cupboards. “Bother. I was sure we had another jar of horseradish. It must be back at my house.”
“Uh, yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that,” I said, leaping on the opportunity to not answer her question. “Your house—what are you going to do with that after you and Greg get hitched? I mean, you’re moving in here, right?”
“Oh yes. Well, actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you and Phil about. I don’t want to sell, so the other option is to rent it out. But Gregory had quite a good idea—he thought perhaps you and Phil might like to live there. I mean,” she added, turning pink. “Obviously we wouldn’t expect you to wait until you’re married before moving in. And of course we’d let you have it at a reduced rent. I haven’t got a large mortgage, and as long as you cover that, it’s fine.”
