‘Now who wants what for dessert? Strawberry trifle or black forest gateau?’ Pam asked, cleaning away the dinner plates.‘I’ll have the gateau, mate. What do you want Michael?’ Cathy asked, nudging her son. She had only managed to entice him out of his bedroom by telling him how much he had in common with Keith.‘I’m full up, thanks,’ Michael replied.‘I haven’t got a sweet tooth, but I’d love another bottle of Pils,’ Keith said, cheekily grinning at Pam.‘I’ll just have a beer an’ all,’ Lin chipped in.‘So, what bands you into?’ Michael asked, turning to Keith.Thrilled that her usually depressed son seemed so chirpy, Cathy followed Pam out into the kitchen.Pam shut the door behind them. ‘I can’t take to that Keith, Cath, I really can’t. He’s so skinny, he looks like a bleedin’ beanpole, and he don’t smell very wholesome either. Have you seen the state of his fingers? Bright yellow, they are, where he chain-smokes, and his teeth are gammy and look too big for his mouth.’Cathy shrugged.
