'You're welcome.'

'I'll put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea, Martin?'

'Yes, please, Mary.'

'Come on, boys. You can have a tiny bit more telly if you're quiet.'

'Thanks, Martin, really. It's lovely.'

'I'm glad you like it.'

There's a silence.

'Well, I should be going. Oh, I meant to say. I should be able to start work on the shop next week.'

'Great.'

There's another silence.

'I've been meaning to talk to you, actually, about putting things on a more official basis.'

'Like a board outside saying "Carpentry by Martin Trent"? That's a good idea. It would be great for your new business.'

He sighs.

'No, I meant, well, I thought I should ask you.'

'Sorry, Martin, I'm still not sure I follow you.'

'No, well, that's the point. I mean I don't want you following me, or me following you, but I'd like us to have an understanding.'

At this precise moment, so would I; I'm still not sure what he's trying to say.

'An understanding?'

'Yes. I didn't want to say anything until the baby was born, it didn't seem right, but now she's here ... well, I thought I should ask you.'

'Ask me what, Martin?'

'Look, I know I'm not very good at this sort of thing, and things are complicated and this probably isn't a good time, but I'd like it if we could have an understanding. I know it sounds old-fashioned.'

'No, it sounds rather nice.'

He smiles.

'Well, that's great. Excellent, actually. And I don't want you to think you're getting mixed up with someone useless. And I'm glad he's not going to be around, her biological father. I know it's probably not the right thing to say, but I am.'

'You make him sound like a box of washing powder.'

He smiles.

'I didn't mean '

'Actually, so far he's been a lot less useful than washing powder.'

'That might change.'

'Maybe.'

'And?'

'And nothing. I'll do what's right for Pearl, but there won't be anything else.'

He looks at his feet.

'You'll want new skirting boards, I take it?'

'Will I?'

'Yes. In the shop.'

'Okay. There is one tiny problem I can see on the horizon, though.'

'No, I've thought of that. We can match them, in both shops.'

'I meant your mother, Martin.'

'Right. Sorry. Well, don't worry about that. Just leave her to me.'

'How?'

'Never you mind.'

'I think I preferred it when you were all nervous.'

'I'll alternate then. I'll be bossy about the stuff I know about, like why you can't have MDF and why you need to spend money on proper oak for those shelves. And you can be in charge of, well, everything else really. I'll spend half my time at your feet, and the rest of the time I'll be up a ladder.'

'My God, I think I've finally stumbled across the perfect man.'

He laughs.

'Sorry to blurt all this now. I should probably have waited.'

'No, I'm glad you did.'

'Still, I should be off, leave you to rest.'

'Okay.'

'Night then.'

'Night.'

He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek, bending forwards slightly so as not to squash Pearl.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Great.'

He's whistling as he goes out.

Crikey. I really didn't expect that, and who knows what will happen. But it's a good start. And even though I'm not sure I'd have chosen someone with quite such a pronounced interest in wood, or with Elsie for a mother, there's always a cloud to every silver lining, as Gran would say.

Crikey.

The boys come in for a goodnight kiss, in their pyjamas. Gran's washed their hair and they've both got unusually neat centre partings.

'Are you going to sleep now, Mum?'

'Yes, Jack.'

'Can we sleep with you and Pearly tonight?'

'No, Jack. We all need to sleep in our own beds.'

'Just for a little bit?'

'Okay. But only for a little while.'

They snuggle in.

All three of them within arm's reach, and everyone being quiet.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Perhaps I should learn to whistle.

A Note on the Author.

Gil McNeil is the author of the best-selling.

The Only Boy for Me, In the Wee Small Hours, Stand by Your Man, and most recently Divas Don't.

Knit. The Only Boy for Me has been made into a

major ITV prime-time drama starring Helen

Baxendale and was broadcast in 2007. Gil McNeil

has edited five collections of stories with Sarah

Brown, and is director of the charity

PiggyBankKids, which supports projects that

create opportunities for children. She lives in.

Kent with her son and comes from a long line of champion knitters.

By the Same Author.

The Only Boy For Me.