The lift was broken again. By the time he’d walked across Manchester and made his way up to Adey’s flat, Anderson was exhausted. The smell of Adey’s cooking welcomed him.
‘I thought I’d do a traditional Somali dish for you,’ she shouted cheerfully from the kitchen. ‘Cambuulo, it’s made from azuki beans.’
Anderson’s eyes welled up. Any gesture, even a hot meal, meant so much. A bundle of emotions, he was at breaking point.
‘Jesus, you look terrible, what’s happened? Hussain said you had quite a good day with Tilly and Connor?’
Anderson updated her, his voice giving out several times.
Without thinking she pulled him into her arms.
For the first time in his adult life, John Anderson cried.
‘Let it out,’ she whispered. It felt alien to her, to hold someone. She gave Anderson a rare smile, took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
‘What about the azuki beans?’ he whispered.
She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, they have to boil for hours.’
That evening John Anderson forgot everything, and afterwards, at long last, they both slept soundly.