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“... so, our moms have gone to handle it. Right now, they’re probably exchanging cake recipes. Or punches. They both have trust issues. Clear?”
The Cooper-Williams progeny stared at John Connor cynically, and gurgled.
“Fine.” John’s jaw tightened. “I wish I was out there.”
“And I wish your mam hadn’t told my missus about Kevlar upholstery. It’s not like I can B and Q it.” Rhys snagged more toast. “Life, eh?”
“I guess. Where’s Cameron?”
“Walking the dog for a friend of Gwen’s.”
“Is that safe? Cameron’s... not a normal girl.”
“Rest easy, mate. Sarah Jane isn’t Barbara Woodhouse.”
FINIS