“I got you a sandwich,” he says quietly. “You can forget to eat at times like this. Is your granddad okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “He’s going to be all right, I think. We’ve got to look after him and get him back to normal. He already wants me to bring his book of flags. Lauren has come up with a comprehensive trivia plan. That sort of thing.”
Bradley stares at me. “Perhaps she could start her trivia plans with the names of pets.”
This makes me laugh. It’s typical Bradley dryness, but this time things feel a bit different. It’s the first time we’ve been together in a while. I think we might have moved on emotionally without even seeing each other. I know that potentially makes me sound crazy, but that’s what it’s like.
There’s a big pause after I stop giggling, though. A big fat pause. I say the first thing that comes into my head.
“What’s in the sandwich?”
Bradley lifts it up to his face as if to remind himself.
“Er. Cheese. Mayo. I think I put a bit of sundried tomato in it just for a change.”
I still can’t think of anything too clever, so the engine in my brain goes into spoon gear and some nonsense coughs out of my mouth.
“I’m glad you didn’t put onion in it, because of, you know, the breath thing.”
Bradley AND Huevos look at me strangely. “What breath thing?”
I’m really floundering now.
“You know, when I was going to see Lydia Portancia for the first time I had onion breath, and meeting new people is hard with bad breath, isn’t it? You can’t speak to them or kiss them or…”
Bradley is starting to shuffle about nervously. Huevos has given up completely and has gone to sleep in his arms. I find sleeping things quite calming, and all of a sudden the sensible part of my mind kicks in.
“Bradley. Would you like to go to the movies sometime this week?”
Bradley grins and Huevos opens one eye. It’s like he’s a canine psychic.
“It depends,” Bradley replies. “I can do superheroes, but which one is crucial. I think most scary things are ridiculous, and—”
I interrupt him. There’s been too much of this. “Bradley. Would you like to go to the movies this week?”
“Yes!” he mumbles in a good way.
My feminist powerhouse takes control.
“There’s just something I want to do. Can you go downstairs and wait?”
Bradley shrugs. “Yep. Got nothing better to do. I’ll google what’s on at the movies.”
Huevos growls. “No, you can’t come,” Bradley tells him. “Not after last time.”
Even though I desperately want to know what happens when you take a Staffordshire-Chihuahua cross to a movie, I have something more important to do.