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It has become a tradition, ever since the Spy fiasco, for me to leave coded messages for Maeve. They're simple ciphers where I'll give her a key, or she'll work them out from the salutations.
She's at the table now, her pencil caught in her teeth, Nick sitting beside her, their heads bent in concentration over the latest one.
She springs up.
“Really, Daddy? A holiday?”
Nick looks on, pride pouring out of his soft, beautiful face as he watches the triumph on her face for cracking the code.
“Yes, monkey. Where would you like to go?”
“Somewhere sunny, Daddy!”