Moussaka was one of the more challenging meals she had cooked as awoman but this was made to perfection. The former Sammie had been ableto complete it without any trouble and she started to wonder if maybehe could do everything she could now. Could he drive a car? Could he doher job?And did that mean she couldn't do those things anymore?She tried to recall the recipe for moussaka but it was nothing but ablur. She tried to remember what happened at her job but she couldn'teven picture the inside of her work. She couldn't... No. She wasn'texactly sure what she did anymore. Something at the school. Was she ateacher? Maybe. Or not? She couldn't remember.Did she have her education anymore? Did she have her adult generalknowledge? Had she retained her language skills? Or was she really justa little boy now and nothing more?She tuned into the conversation. Sammie and Daddy were discussingissues at his work and Sammie was fully engaged; asking questions;passing comments. He was talking like a. I doubt the wife'd like it much.” He smiled up back at me as he unlaced the black boots and tugged his feet out of them. I gulped and wondered why a sweaty football sock was making my stomach do the kind of flips that are generally reserved for, well, a sweaty rest of him. “Phone's in there.” I pointed to the living room. “You want a beer while you wait?” “Christ, yeah, mate! Been a shitter of a day.” “No probs.” I gently kicked the door round as I went into the kitchen. I grabbed my phone from next to the fridge and opened a message to my wife. He's here. Shirtless & sweaty. I didn't really know why I was telling her. I mean, she was hardly going to come rushing home from her weekend away and jump him, or somehow connive him into shagging the both of us. Within seconds the phone vibrated. My mouth fell open as I read her reply. You lucky bastard. Just remember – if you get a go, I get a go. Have fun x I kind of grinned as I thought about what she'd said, and felt my Calvins get that.
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