Just for the Holidays: Your perfect summer read!. Sue Moorcroft

situations Natasha sought reassurance by testing the knowledge and control of those around her. ‘Hopefully, we’ll be able to visit your dad.’

      Natasha yawned. ‘Will Mum go?’

      ‘I haven’t heard from her yet. I’ll probably get her tomorrow.’ Apprehension squiggled like a snake in Leah’s belly but she refused to let it betray its presence to Natasha.

      ‘Have we got food for breakfast?’

      ‘Yes, don’t worry.’

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘Eggs, cheese, meat, bread. All the usual.’

      ‘Have we got enough money, with Dad in hospital?’ It was as if Natasha woke every morning with a quota of questions to ask and she’d just seen bedtime approaching.

      ‘Yes, don’t worry, we have money.’ It just wasn’t in Leah’s purse.

      ‘Will you drive to the hospital?’

      ‘Ronan says the tram will be easier. We haven’t been on one so that will be cool, won’t it?’

      ‘Do you know the way?’

      ‘Ronan’s going to show us.’

      ‘Will you like the tram more than The Pig?’

      ‘Hugely,’ said Leah, frankly. Beside her, she heard Ronan give a quiet snort of laughter.

      Natasha dragged even more heavily on Leah’s arm – luckily not her sore one. ‘What’s a MILF?’

      Leah halted to stare at Natasha, whose eyes were full of her usual guileless curiosity. She cleared her throat. ‘What?’

      Natasha started forward again, dragging Leah with her. ‘Curtis said that you’re one,’ she said, chattily. She frowned. ‘Oh, no, he thought you were a MILF. Then Jordan told him he was stupid because you’re our cool auntie, so Curtis said you were a BILF, but I didn’t get it. Are MILF and BILF words in French? I could ask Dad because you don’t talk much French, do you?’

      Leah floundered. In her cool auntie role she’d occasionally encountered awkward questions from Natasha or Jordan – mostly Natasha – and had had no hesitation in referring them to a parent. As Deputy Mum she realised she ought to take an active part in the conversation but, gripped by a paralysing combination of horror, mortification and the urge to giggle, had no idea where to start.

      Ronan stepped in smoothly. ‘Curtis shouldn’t be using either of those words, Natasha, and I’m sure your parents would prefer it if you forgot them. I shall explain to him why.’

      ‘Oh.’ Natasha digested this. ‘But shouldn’t I make up my own mind? Dad’s always telling me I should.’

      Stifling more mirth at Ronan’s perplexed expression Leah scrabbled around for a distraction technique. ‘I’d much rather you looked up yummy chocolate recipes.’

      ‘Le-ah,’ Natasha chided, proving diversion worked even when in pursuit of the truth about MILFs and BILFs, ‘you probably wrote half those recipes!’

      ‘I never give up the search for more, though,’ Leah replied solemnly. ‘I’m thinking about trying chocolate ice-cream with peanuts and caramel. What do you think?’