His final call was to his mother, apologising for failing to eat the now binned meal she’d so meticulously stored in the fridge for him, and promising not to miss the freshly cooked dinner she was busy making as they spoke. With all the free time he now enjoyed, it was a promise he’d have to keep.
And he did. A few hours later he parked himself at the kitchen table and exposed his nostrils to the inviting aroma of the hotpot. He hadn’t felt hungry on the drive over. Now his mouth was watering as he eyed the steaming stew with an eagerness that made his mother beam. She was right – braising steak was still his favourite dish. He wolfed it down with gusto before indulging in two portions of pudding to complement his pot of steaming earl grey.
After dinner the conversation took an inevitabl
