Gaze Upon My Works And Emote

They’d all thought, at first, that Gillian was just being run ragged trying to keep up with a pair of precocious preschoolers. They had tried giving her a break by signing the twins up for a play group at least a couple of times a week—Antony firmly believed they needed to learn how to be children, and their mothers had eventually agreed—but the one they had picked hadn’t been a good fit after all and both Jon and Melanie had requested to not have to go when asked what they wanted for their fourth birthday. They were still looking for an alternative when Gillian collapsed at the park without warning.

Antony wasn’t going to forget bursting into the A&E, Susan hot on his heels, to find Melanie and Jon curled on top of Gillian’s chest, her skin sallow and her eyes sunken, in any kind of a hurry. He still blamed himself for not noticing, even though both Gillian and the doctor insisted it had come on suddenly and he couldn’t have known. Harder still was convincing Susan that she wasn’t to blame, since she’d seen Gillian collapse once before and felt she ought to have spotted it earlier. She’d kept that observation private to Antony, though. In that moment, in her typical steadfast, practical fashion, she had begun firing off questions like she was crossing a witness and demanded she be tested for compatibility immediately.

Gillian hadn’t been surprised, had just laughed. Later Antony had learned that they’d known since they were children, since Gillian was first diagnosed with her kidney condition, that they had the same blood type, B negative. It probably wasn’t normal for children to worry about that kind of thing, but Susan had pestered her doctor until he’d allowed her to be typed specifically so she could do this if necessary. Antony was A positive, so he hadn’t even bothered asking about testing—he’d have killed Gillian faster than her own kidneys would have—and the twins were far too small to donate to an adult even if they’d been willing to have either of them tested, or even typed. It hadn’t been necessary, anyway, because Susan was described as “probably the best match you’ll get outside a relative”.

And since the waiting list for a kidney from a dead donor was likely to be too long for her chances, even on dialysis, here they were.

Not for the first time, Antony glanced at the clock and wished he’d put his foot down about going to see Susan as soon as she was in her room rather than being barred until Gillian was there too. At least they knew Susan’s was finished. The nurse had come out to tell them she was done and they would take her to her room as soon as she was awake and that they would be putting Gillian under shortly, and then added that her instructions were to give him the instructions to “take Melanie and Jon to get something to eat and for God’s sake stop fretting”. Antony had done the first without protest or complaint, but with the best will in the world, he couldn’t manage the second.

A tap on his thigh nearly made him jump out of his skin, but he caught himself just in time and turned to see Melanie grinning up at him proudly. “Daddy, we did it, look!”

Jon proudly—and carefully—held up the Etch A Sketch. They had drawn five figures—three tall, two small—holding hands and smiling literally from ear to ear. All of them appeared to be wearing glasses. Antony smiled warmly. “Well done, you two! It’s a very good family portrait.”

The twins beamed. Melanie studied it critically. “Can we show Mummy and Mama?”

“Ah…” Antony winced. “I think it might shake itself apart while we wait for them. But,” he emphasized, seeing their faces fall, “I brought this.”

He reached into the bag at his feet, rummaged around for a bit, and came up with the well cared for black Polaroid camera that had once been Paul’s.

At that, they brightened again. Both of them posed behind their picture; Antony snapped a photograph and winced again at the loud whirring sound as the picture developed. Nobody really seemed to notice, or at least care. He supposed they had enough problems of their own to worry about.

Satisfied, Jon set the Etch A Sketch aside and reached for the bag. “Daddy, did you bring books?”

“I brought one.” Antony reached in and pulled out the thick, sturdy tome he’d found at his favorite secondhand book shop, in remarkably good condition considering its age, with the dust jacket intact. He’d actually been looking for this one for a while; Paul had owned a copy, one of his most treasured possessions, and he’d looked forward to reading it to the twins when they were older. It had gone missing after the funeral, and while they all knew Mabel had probably taken it, they couldn’t prove it. Certainly nobody was going to risk her learning their new address or phone number by writing or calling to ask her for it. This would be good enough. He hoped.

Jon leaned over his arm and traced the letters, reading aloud slowly. “Stories…From…Around…the…World. How many stories?”

“Seventeen,” Antony said. “Do you want to read it yourself, or do you want me to read some of it to you?”

“You, Daddy,” Jon and Melanie said in unison.

Antony encouraged them both to crawl into his lap and opened the book. The first pages were not a story, but an introduction. He knew, however, that if he didn’t read it, Jon would protest, and so he began, as the King of Hearts had said to the White Rabbit, at the beginning. For a wonder, both of the children were rapt, and remained so when he got to the first story, which was Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

With any other children, he would have had to skip around, reading the shorter stories first and ignoring the long, ponderous tales with their limited illustrations, but Jon and Melanie were enthralled. They got through two stories and were just starting the third when the door opened and yet another doctor stepped in.

“Who’s here for Gillian King?” he called softly.

Melanie and Jon both looked up at that. Antony carefully closed the book and stood, one twin on each hip. He wasn’t a particularly big man—not like his da, or like Paul—but he held them anyway. He needed the comfort, more than they did. Something secure to hold on to, just in case…

But the doctor was smiling as he came over to them. “Mr King? I’m Dr Brackett, I did the surgery on your wife. We’ve just finished up.”

“How is she?” Antony asked. Melanie reached across his chest for Jon’s hand.

“Fit as a fiddle. Clean removal and a clean reattachment. We’ll need to watch her for a few days to make sure everything is working properly, but she ought to be able to come home by next weekend if all goes well.”

Just in time for Paul’s birthday, Antony thought but didn’t say. It was amazing how much he still haunted their lives two years on—and how much he still missed him. Jon looked from Antony to the doctor and back. “What about Mama?”

“Susan Sims?” Antony clarified for the doctor. “The donor? They specifically requested to be in the same room…”

Dr Brackett’s face took on a slightly more guarded expression. “Are you…family?”

“Yes,” Melanie and Jon said in firm unison.

Antony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “She’s my wife’s best friend, and my best friend’s widow. I’m Jon’s godfather and Susan’s medical next of kin.” It was slightly more complicated than that, actually, but the doctor didn’t need to know their personal business. He gave Jon a quick warning glance as he set the twins on their feet. Jon, for a wonder, kept his mouth shut.

“Oh, I see.” Dr Brackett relaxed. “Yes, she’s doing fine also. She came out of anesthesia about an hour ago and we’ve got her settled in their room. We’re bringing Mrs King back there now, so give us a few minutes and I’ll have the nurse come and get you.”

“Thank you.” Antony smiled and turned to the twins, but they were already quickly and efficiently packing the bag back up, so he forbore.

The nurse who came out to get them was the same one who’d come to tell them Susan was out of surgery and Gillian was going in. She introduced herself properly as Nurse McCall and led them up to the ward, explaining all the while what to expect and answering all of Jon and Melanie’s questions. Yes, both Susan and Gillian would have scars, although Susan’s would be much smaller; yes, laparoscopic was a similar word to microscopic, in a way, but not precisely the way Jon thought; no, Gillian would have a harder time recovering than Susan, so she would have to stay longer; well, they had taken something out of Susan that she still had one left of, so it was just getting used to doing the same thing with a little less capacity, but Gillian had had two things taken out and something new put in and they had to make sure it worked properly; no, they wouldn’t put it back in Susan if it didn’t work for Gillian; no, of course not, they would find her another kidney or hook her up to a machine that would take care of all that for her while they looked; yes, sometimes, but they had tested her very carefully so it wasn’t likely; no, they were too small and it would need both of their kidneys to make one good one for an adult; no, even if they were identical twins they couldn’t take one from each and stitch them together, it didn’t quite work like that. Since Antony had also wondered about some of those things (not the viability of using the twins’ kidneys, for multiple reasons, but most of the other questions), he was grateful for both his children’s lack of reticence and the nurse’s kind and patient manner.

When they reached the proper ward, Nurse McCall led them over to the charge desk. An older woman in starched uniform sat behind it, while a younger man—well, younger, he was around Antony’s age, if he was any judge, perhaps a bit older—studied something on a clipboard. Both looked up as Nurse McCall approached; she smiled and gestured at the man. “Mr King, this is Nurse Wilkinson. He’ll be in charge of your wife and…your other wife during their stay.”

Okay, maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d hoped, or maybe she was just more perceptive than most. “Nurses really ought to rule the world.”

Nurse McCall laughed. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“I’ll vote for you when I’m old enough,” Melanie promised.

All four of the adults laughed at that one—Antony couldn’t help himself—but at least Melanie seemed to recognize it wasn’t malicious, which was good, as if she got angry enough they would be extremely fortunate to already be in a hospital. Nurse McCall turned to face the twins, but didn’t bend down to speak to them, which Antony knew they appreciated. “I have to get back to A&E now, but you’ll be in good hands with Nurse Wilkinson. He knows plenty, too, so if you have any more questions, you can ask him. Just remember he’s working, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am,” Jon and Melanie chorused. Nurse McCall laughed, patted them both on the head, tossed a “see you later” over her shoulder at the nurse behind the counter (or so Antony presumed—Nurse Wilkinson didn’t look much like a Cindy), and left.

“Is being a nurse better than being a doctor?” Jon asked as soon as they were alone.

“It depends on what you mean by ‘better’,” Nurse Wilkinson said. “Doctors make more money, and if you want to diagnose people or do surgeries, then being a doctor is the best choice. I like being a nurse because I like the hard parts of taking care of people. Even when it’s a little gross. Are you ready to go see your mothers?”

Antony added that interaction to his list of reasons why nurses ought to rule the world and followed the nurse and the twins to room 507. Two neatly lettered labels outside the door read S. SIMS and G. KING; two clipboards with medical charts sat in a pocket on its front. There were two brightly colored stickers next to Gillian’s tag and one next to Susan’s. Nurse Wilkinson kindly explained that the blue dot meant to make sure they always had plenty of water and the green one meant she had to have a low salt diet, and then he opened the door and let them in.

The curtains on both beds were pulled all the way back, and Susan and Gillian sat up in their respective beds, which were near enough to one another that they could hold hands across it if they wanted to. Gillian still looked a little groggy, but they both seemed cheerful and more or less alert. Susan smiled broadly when she saw them. “There you are!”

“Mama!” Melanie started to rush forward, then checked herself and walked more calmly into the room, Jon at her side. Nurse Wilkinson winked at Antony and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Does it hurt very much?” Jon asked. He sounded more curious than worried.

“Not yet, but we’ll see when the medicine fully wears off.” Susan smiled to take any sting out of the words. “It’s such a little cut, honest.”

“Does yours hurt, Mummy?” Jon pressed, turning to look at Gillian.

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s not too bad,” Gillian assured him. “Be careful with the hugs, that’s all.”

“Nurse McCall said no climbing on the beds,” Melanie said with authority. “So no hugs until you’re up.”

“Wise words.” Gillian caught Antony’s eye and smiled, a bit more loosely than usual—the anesthesia clearly hadn’t worn all the way off. “Hey.”

“Hello, Wife.” Antony bent and kissed Gillian gently, then turned and gave Susan a kiss as well. “Hello, Other Wife.”

Gillian gave a surprised giggle, then stifled a groan. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“You said it didn’t hurt!” Jon protested.

“It didn’t, until Daddy made me laugh.”

Susan, too, looked like she was choking down the urge to laugh hard enough to tear her incision. “Other Wife?”

“Nurse McCall called you that.” Melanie found Susan’s hand, the one not hooked up to an IV, and hugged it. “She said Nurse Wilkinson was going to take good care of his wife and his other wife. Daddy said nurses should rule the world.”

Antony rolled his eyes. “And I am once again reminded that you should never say anything around children you aren’t prepared for the whole world to hear. Here, show them what you did.”

He handed the Polaroid to Jon, who eagerly showed it off; Susan and Gillian both cooed when they saw it. “Oh, what a good job you did!”

“Can we keep this here?” Susan asked, looking at the twins. “That way we can see it while we get better.”

Jon immediately propped the picture against the water jug. Antony glanced at the door briefly, then back to Susan. “The doctor said if all goes well you ought to be able to go home tomorrow.”

“And leave me all alone?” Gillian said with an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll come sit with you all day,” Susan promised. “It’ll be like when we were pregnant, except I’m not allowed back to work for two weeks.”

“How long do you have to stay, Mummy?” Jon asked.

“At least seven days.” Gillian held up one hand and struggled briefly before holding up two fingers on her other hand. “And I’ll have to go to see the doctors at least a couple of times a week while they make sure the kidney likes me. But it won’t be very long. And we’ll go out to dinner all together when I come home, okay? Promise.”

“For Mama’s birthday?” Melanie asked shrewdly.

Gillian blinked and looked over at Susan. “Shit.”

“Swear jar,” Jon and Melanie sang in unison.

“Likely not mine,” Susan said gently. “But Paul’s for sure.”

Gillian groaned dramatically and flung herself back against her pillows. “It’s not faaaaaaaair. I want to go hoooooooome.”

Jon pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips, turning to Melanie with an expression that seemed familiar. Antony couldn’t figure out why until he said, in a spot on impression of Antony himself, “I think somebody needs a nap.”

Melanie flicked her tongue a couple of times before she finally managed to make the tiniest of tsks, the way Susan often did, shaking her head sadly. “A very, very long one.”

Susan screwed up her own face and folded her arms over her chest. “No nap without a story.”

In unison, the twins turned to look hopefully up at Antony, who couldn’t help but grin. “Well, it just so happens…” he began, pulling out the book.

There was a chair in between the two beds, and Jon and Melanie settled into it and looked up at Antony expectantly. Antony seated himself on the other visitor’s chair and opened the book to where they had left off. “Right. ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’, from Denmark, by Hans Christian Anderson.”

This one was a story Antony knew forwards, backwards, and sideways, but he knew better than to attempt to recite it from memory lest Jon discover a discrepancy in the text, even if he was too far away to see the words clearly when he turned the book to show them the pictures. Glancing up as he got nearer the end, he suppressed a smile. Susan was still listening, albeit with a vague look on her face, but Gillian had drifted off to sleep.

He finished the story, closed the book carefully, and pressed a finger to his lips, then reached into the bag and pulled the camera out again. Susan smiled and looked over at the twins and Gillian fondly as Antony snapped the picture. Once it had developed, he held it out to her. “Do you want to keep it here?”

Susan traced the faces lightly with a forefinger, then shook her head. “Put it on the fridge,” she murmured. “We’ll get a frame when I get home.”

She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to Melanie’s cheek, then Jon’s; they grabbed her hand and hugged it in turn. Antony leaned over the other bed and pressed a gentle kiss to Gillian’s forehead. She shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t otherwise stir. Turning back to Susan, he said softly, “We’ll be back in the morning.”

“Good night, Mama,” Jon and Melanie whispered together.

Susan smiled. “Good night. Mama loves you.” She smiled warmly up at Antony. “Good night, darling ‘husband.’”

Antony laughed quietly. He leaned over and gave Susan another quick kiss. “See you soon, dearest other wife.”

Repacking his bag, he took Jon’s hand; Jon took Melanie’s, and they walked out of the hospital room.

After saying a good night to Nurse Wilkinson, who assured them he would look after their mothers carefully and let them know if anything happened, they headed out to where Antony had left the car. As he drove away, he felt considerably calmer than he had just a few hours before. The girls were fine. The surgery had been a success. He had, as Gillian had said, been a fool to worry. Everything was coming up roses.

He fed the twins supper, bathed them, and tucked them into bed; they had long ago given up the pretense of having to let them sleep in separate beds. He’d expected they would want the next story in Paul’s book—a Polish one involving a monster and a pair of siblings—but no, they wanted Paddiwack and Cosy yet again, and he was happy to oblige.

“‘…And in the morning, they licked each other clean.’” Antony glanced over his shoulder with a slight frown at the distant sound of the telephone. “Right. Good night, you two.”

“Night, Daddy.” Melanie snuggled into Jon’s shoulder, and they tugged the covers up to their chins.

Antony turned out the light, hurried down the hall, and caught the phone just before it stopped ringing. “Hello, this is Antony King speaking,” he said crisply.

Susan and Antony were waiting for them on the platform when they reached their final stop; Melanie and Jon ran right to them and hugged them tightly. Susan had a hug for Gillian, too, and Antony had a quick kiss. In a conspiratorial stage whisper, he asked, “Did you shake off any pursuit?”

“Don’t joke. They’re truly scared,” Gillian said in his ear. A bit louder, so the twins could hear, she added, “Kept watch the whole way up. I think we escaped any notice. It helps that we look enough alike that nobody suspected a thing, don’t we, loveys?”

The train didn’t actually run to Woodley on Sundays, but the nearest station it did stop at wasn’t that far away, so that wasn’t such a problem. Once Jon and Melanie were safely strapped into the car, Antony slid into the driver’s seat and glanced in the mirror at them.

“Don’t worry,” he assured them solemnly. “She won’t find us here.”

Jon’s lower lip trembled briefly, but he nodded. Melanie gave her father a suspicious look and didn’t say anything. Gillian got the feeling neither of them particularly believed him.

It was, surprisingly, only about another five minutes before Antony turned down a narrow, sheltered street and pulled up in front of a small house. It was detached, made of red brick, with a bay window on one side and a covered porch. It had been evidently built into a small hill, but stone steps zigzagged up the lawn to the door from the driveway Antony parked the car in.

“Here we are,” Susan sang out. “Everything should be inside, but we’ll have to unpack and that won’t be a simple matter, I’m sure.”

“You haven’t been in yet?” Gillian unfastened her safety belt and reached for the restraints on the nearest car seat.

Antony got out and came around to help get the other twin out. “Of course not. We were waiting for you two.”

“Is this where we’re going to stay, Daddy?” Jon let Antony lift him out and set him on his feet, but he was staring at the house intently.

“It sure is.” Antony took Melanie from Gillian and set her next to Jon; the two of them clutched each other’s hands tightly.

Susan gave Gillian her arm to climb out of the car herself. “Who’s going to be the one to unlock?”

“Who’s got the key?” Gillian countered.

Antony held up a ring of keys. “We’ve each got a set, but I’m holding them for now.”

“Then I think you’ll need to unlock the door for us.” Gillian smiled and took Melanie’s free hand. “Lead the way, O gallant knight.”

Dutifully, Antony led them up the neat stone steps to the tidy little door. Susan and Gillian, by unspoken agreement, drew together behind the twins and urged them forward.

It was deeply unfair that Paul wasn’t here for this moment, but Gillian supposed that, in a way, he was with them and always would be. He still ought to have been physically present, should have been the one fumbling with the key or holding Jon or Melanie—or both—on his shoulders. It just didn’t seem right to be doing it without him.

Still, here they were, and they were going to have to live with that.

Gillian found herself holding her breath as Antony fitted the key into the lock, turned, and then pushed it open.

“Here we are,” he announced. “Home sweet home.”

Gillian and Susan gave exactly the same gasp of wonder and surprise at the sight. The room was large and airy, trimmed in honey stained wood, with a cathedral ceiling that met at a point high overhead and hardwood floors, a stone fireplace against one wall. The furniture hadn’t been arranged yet—the sofa, love seat, and armchairs, not to mention the end tables and book cases, were pushed against the walls—and there was a small mountain of boxes labeled LIVING ROOM in one corner under an arch formed by two rolled rugs, but Gillian could see the potential, and she liked it.

“Where did the piano come from?” Susan asked with a frown, looking in the opposite corner.

Antony shrugged. “The estate agent said the last owners left a few things behind that we were welcome to. Moving a piano isn’t cheap, I guess. Come on. Dining room is through here.”

The dining room was octagonal, with a vaulted ceiling and a chandelier, a heavy china hutch that had definitely also come with the house off to one side. Their simple, serviceable table and chairs seemed almost out of place, but Gillian thought it was nothing a good tablecloth couldn’t hide. The kitchen beyond it was almost as big again as the dining room, with cupboards built in and a pantry to one side. There would be plenty of room to work, even if Melanie and Jon insisted on helping.

“There only being one way in or out of here does seem like a fire hazard,” Susan murmured as they went back through the dining room to the living room. “I suppose the bedrooms are back this way?”

“Supposedly. Let’s see what they did.” Antony opened the first door he saw. “No, this is a utility room.”

Gillian opened the door opposite and gave a soft ah of delight. “I found the master suite.”

It was the room with the bay window, light and airy and well appointed. Unlike the main part of the house, it was carpeted in a plush dark green, and the boxes labeled BEDROOM were stacked haphazardly on the dresser. The bed had been assembled but not made, and the quilt-wrapped bundle on top of the mattress indicated the mirror was yet to be hung, but that wouldn’t be difficult. The master bath alone was easily as big as their entire flat back in London had been.

The next bedroom, relatively small but neat, had a bed and dresser but no boxes. Jon and Melanie started into it, but Susan had already opened the door at the end of the corridor and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, perfect! Jon, Melanie, this will be your room.”

Melanie tugged Jon out of the second bedroom and into the third; stepping in behind them, Gillian could see why the movers had chosen this one. It was slightly smaller than the master bedroom, but bigger than the other, with windows on three walls, two looking out on the backyard and one on the side half hidden by a shrub in need of trimming. The beds had been set up, one to either side of the back window, and the boxes labeled KIDS ROOM containing those few things they hadn’t been able to pack until that morning waited on what was clearly a window seat. The carpet in this room was a light beige, and the walls had been papered in a china blue with paler blue ornamental designs throughout it.

“The curtains ought to match in here,” Susan said thoughtfully. “We’ll get those up so nobody can see in if you don’t want them to. Will that make you feel safe?”

“The curtains came to visit, too?” Melanie asked, sounding slightly suspicious.

Antony laughed gently, knelt down, and scooped the twins up. “The curtains came to live here, Little Moth. Just like we did. This is our home now.”

“Really?” Jon’s eyes were huge.

“Really.” Antony kissed Jon’s cheek, then Melanie’s.

The children looked at each other, then back up at Antony. Susan went over to a box she had made a mark in the corner of and pulled it open. “Let’s get these curtains hung up first. Then we can start unpacking, and then we can make our first dinner in the house. And I think a cake is in order.”

It didn’t take nearly as much time as Gillian would have expected to get unpacked, even having to sort out the twins’ belongings from the adults’. Once the bedrooms were done, the twins went down for their afternoon nap while Susan and Gillian tackled the living room and Antony put the kitchen in order. He left them to decide what they wanted to do with the china hutch while he ran down to the shops for groceries.

As they were putting the remains of the dishes from the restaurant into the hutch, Susan asked Gillian quietly, “Did you get anything out of them on the way up?”

Gillian shook her head. “Only that they’re still very serious about this. Melanie was worried you and Antony wouldn’t be able to find us without being tracked, and Jon heard the conductor on one of our trains say ‘Sheffield’ and kept asking if Mabel knew where his family was and would find us there. I don’t get what they’re so scared of.”

Susan bit her lip. “It sounds like they think she’s going to take them away or something, but I don’t get why.”

“Well, she can’t find us here.” Gillian adjusted one of the delicate tea cups on its saucer. “Or at least she’s not likely to look here. Not until you make partner in your firm, and by that point you’ll be too powerful to stop her.”

“Or she’ll be dead.”

“She’ll outlive us all out of spite.”

Susan stepped back to examine the hutch critically, then nodded. “Good to have those up. I think your parents would like this place…are you sure you don’t mind staying with the twins all day?”

“I haven’t minded so far,” Gillian reminded her. “It’s probably going to be easier in a small town with a yard than in a flat in the middle of London. And you and Antony won’t be far away. We should probably take a tour of the area tomorrow, actually, so they get an idea of where you’ll be all day.”

“I know you haven’t minded so far.” Susan put her arms around Gillian’s shoulders from behind and rested her cheek against hers. “But we’ve just dragged you to a new town where you don’t know anyone, and I wouldn’t want you to think we’re…”

“Keeping me isolated?” Gillian supplied. “First of all, I do know someone. I know you. It isn’t as though I had that many friends in London. I don’t even know the name of the woman who lived next door.”

“I think the name on her postbox said G. Robinson.”

“And yet you have no idea what the ‘G’ stands for, so the point still stands. Anyway, aren’t locking me in the house all day. And the twins are three now, they’re old enough to do fun things with.”

Susan laughed. “I suppose they’re close enough to three to count, anyway.”

Gillian looked at her watch, then twisted her head to look Susan in the eye in amusement. “Lost track of time, have we, Madame Pedant?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sue, even if you’re waiting until the exact moment, they technically turned three an hour and a half ago.”

Susan pulled back. Gillian, surprised, turned fully around to see her staring with wide eyes and a half open mouth. “The twenty-first is today?”

Gillian gaped back at her. “I thought that was why you suggested cake.”

“No! No, that was just—we made it. We own our home, just like we always said we were going to do. I…thought that was something worth celebrating on its own.” Susan rubbed a hand over her face. “Fuck, we didn’t even get them presents.”

“We got them a house,” Gillian said with a laugh. “Besides, when have they ever cared about presents?”

“They’re getting older—”

“And have no friends other than each other, so it’s not like they know birthdays are about getting hundreds of pounds’ worth of gifts.” Gillian kissed her cheek. “Come on, let’s get this done before they wake up.”

When Jon and Melanie woke up, both seemed more cheerful, and they perked up even further when Antony allowed them to help him with the cake while Susan and Gillian put the rest of the groceries away. It was honestly a marvel and a delight to Gillian that they could all be working in the kitchen at the same time, something that wouldn’t have been possible in their tiny London flat. Gillian looked at the handful of scallions she was putting away, ran her eye over the spices, and turned to Susan, who was thoughtfully holding a wrapped poultry.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

Susan smiled. “It’s a good day to use the restaurant dishes?”

“This feels like a special occasion to me.” Gillian set the scallions on the counter and reached for the wok.