I must have left that house the most satisfied grandmother on earth. Laurence could walk. He could say ‘Dada’ and ‘milk’ and ‘more’ and ‘no’ and ‘munny’ (for monkey; there was no sign of my cuddly owl). With lots of encouragement he could do a fairly neat job of clapping his hands together and waving goodbye. He could run cars up and down the plastic ramps of his garage. And he was cosy as toast with his new Dada. When I was leaving (‘Well, that’s all splendid, Guy. Nothing to worry about at all’) he clung to his protector’s legs and stared at me with those enormous eyes. ‘Will you be back?’ I hedged my bets. ‘Somebody will,’ I said. ‘For the next milestone check. It might not be me, of course.’ ‘Shame,’ he said, with only the statutory tinge of sarcasm I guessed a young man of his sort would feel obliged to show to anyone in authority. I walked out with that feeling of exhilaration you get from realizing you’ve done exactly the right thing at the exact right time.
What do You think about Fly In The Ointment (2009)?
