Page 29 of Ship of Fools

“And you are just as pretty as Luca said you were. You got on well then, last night? I hope Luca was a gentleman.” Bea giggles.

“Luca was a perfect gentleman.” Andreas laughs. “I can barely walk, let alone sit down.” He winks.

“Tell me about it,” Bea moans. “It felt like I had to pass a bloody pineapple, and now my foo-foo is covered in stitches. I will never have sex again. Ever.”

“No stitches here. But I won’t be sitting down for a week.” Andreas counters, giving his backside an overdramatic rub.

I die a little. Then I die again, as Bea’s raw laughter fills the air.

“Good boy,” she says, turning back to me. “Now, look after your boyfriend, Luca, because I am not getting you another one. I like this one,” she says, patting Andreas' arm. “So, we’re keeping him, whatever you say.”

“I’m happy with that.” Andreas smiles, wrapping his arms around my back, breathing into my hair. Kissing my neck.

“That’s enough public displays of affection for now,” Bea rules. “There is a tiny innocent infant present in the room. Now, Uncle Luca, meet Baby Bob.”

“Bob!” I shout, “What the hell, Bea? You named him Bob?”

“I’m his mother, and Bob is a perfectly respectable name. Look, I couldn’t even write my own name until I was nine, being cursed with some long-arse name like Beatrice, so Bob here will have an easy ride. Three letters. Also, it goes with Bea. Bea and Bob. I might start a company called that.”

“Bob.” Andreas says, smiling into my ear. “I like it. Very cool. Uncle Andreas approves.”

“Uncle Andreas will be expected to brush up on babysitting duties, nappy changes and long walks with the pram. I will need my beauty sleep,” Bea declares, waving her drip-free arm around like she is using an invisible fairy wand to justify her demands.

“We can do that,” I say. We can. I can’t wait. Long walks with Andreas and a pram, up in the park. I can see us pushing a more-grown-up toddler version of Bob on the swings in the park. Taking him swimming. Eating cake down at the cafe on the square. My head is again, overwhelmed with daydreams. Fantasies. Things that are not real.

“Uncle Andreas and Uncle Luca will be the best uncles ever,” Andreas says excitedly, kissing the top of my ear. “Please, tell me we will be godfathers too. I always wanted to be someone’s godfather.”

“Are you going to make him kiss your ring?” Bea laughs.

“Like in the Godfather?”

“Good, youareboth educated and cultured. Have you seen the whole trilogy?”

“Yup.” Andreas is all over this one, starting to spill out storylines, and names and all the usual chatter. He just can’t help himself, talking about favourite actors and characters, and stroking down my chest as he almost has me falling off the side of the bed, where I am perched with him clinging to me like he… loves me.

I have to snap out of this. Yet, I don’t want to.

We get chucked out by the nurse, after both of us have had a go at holding Baby Bob. I kiss his tiny little nose goodbye, and try to think of a million things to promise him. I hope nobody ever breaks his little heart. I hope he will always be loved. I hope I can give him some sense of family, that I can be a brilliant uncle to him. I hope he gets to grow up with my dad to guide him, because I think my dad is pretty good at the whole parenting thing. I wish him a life like mine, despite all the stuff I have messed up, because all in all, right now? I’m good.

We drive Mum home, with Andreas talking nonstop in the back seat, and my poor mum is clearly falling asleep by the time I park Phoebe on the drive. She disappears inside as I hold the passenger door open, waiting for Andreas to unfold himself from the back seat.

“Phoebe needs the Andreas treatment.” He sighs and huffs, smoothing down his jeans. “There is a half-eaten Snickers bar in the back, that says best before 2018. When did you last actually... valet her? You’re a professional, Mr Germano. My client would be deeply distressed finding his car in such a state.”

All it apparently takes, is his voice to hit that managerial pitch, and my cock goes into red alert. I grab my junk in defeat and Andreas laughs, slamming the car door shut.

“You’re terrible. We are not fucking on your front lawn. I’m not into public sex, or anything like that.Thatis a hard limit for me. No sex in public places, especially not when someone who I suspect is your father is watching us from the window.”

“Save that thought, though,” I blurt out. “I think the customer might be most upset at the sloppy valeting Phoebe has received from Mitchell’s hand car wash.”

“Oh.” Andreas says, his voice going a little high-pitched.

“Yeah. The customer will demand compensation.”

“Will the customer accept compensation in kind?”

“The customer might, but he will be unavailable to redeem this offer until later tonight.”

“Fuck!” Andreas squirms and turns around, obviously adjusting himself away from my dad’s prying eyes. He’s the nosiest gossipmonger ever, no doubt providing minute-by-minute commentary to my mum who will be running around trying to find some clean pyjamas, and her dressing gown, and demanding a last cup of tea.

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