He sat on her sofa, drinking a hot chocolate with a splash of whiskey in it. Val sat opposite him, telling him about the kids. She looked tired and puffy and much older than she had done before her son was born. Peter had just peeped in to have a look at the sleeping children. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to miss his nephew’s arrival so completely. ‘So,’ said Val, pulling a blanket around her knees. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you.’ ‘How much is mum telling you?’ Val rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not eating properly. She’s worried you’re withdrawing from the world.’ She examined him for a moment. ‘I thought she was exaggerating, but you are looking a bit scraggly and thin.’ Peter smiled. ‘And I need a haircut. I know.’ ‘She says Sally’s condition hasn’t changed.’ ‘No.’ He sipped his hot drink and felt the warmth burn down his throat. It reminded him of Glenda. ‘So what has?’ ‘Pardon?’ ‘Why are you here, Peter?
