‘Wait, what?’ Mark frowned at me, his laptop screen still reflected in his glasses. ‘I thought you were taking Lacey to get orthotics.’

‘I was,’ I grumbled, dropping my handbag onto the rug and slumping onto the couch.

‘But… you got some instead?’

‘It wasn’t by choice, Mark,’ I glared. ‘They recommended that a podiatrist have a look at my feet while I was there.’

‘I bet that was good for Lacey,’ he nodded, going back to his screen. ‘Seeing her mum there, getting a set of orthotics for adults while she was getting hers.’

‘Nope,’ I shook my head. Mark raised an eyebrow.

‘Nope?’

‘Nope,’ I repeated. ‘She doesn’t need them.’

‘Oh,’ Mark slowly nodded.

‘Yep.’

‘Just you?’

‘Just me!’ I scowled.

‘What was wrong with her feet then?’

‘She had a blister,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Hardly took the best podiatry clinic in the Cheltenham area to figure that one out, but at least the brat got the day off school.’

‘Clever,’ Mark conceded. Off my look, he quickly adopted a frown. ‘Not clever.’

‘Not clever,’ I repeated.

He shook his head, a touch too vigorously.

‘Anyway,’ I sighed, ‘one of the nurses noticed I had a mild limp and got the podiatrist to have a look at it for me.’

‘Very observant,’ Mark nodded approvingly.

‘No!’ I glared. ‘Not “very observant”! Too observant! Nurse Sherlock should have minded her own business!’

‘Nurse Holmes.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, well,’ Mark tried to reel himself back in, ‘if that was the joke you were making, then her name would be Nurse Holmes, because that’s Sherlock’s—’

‘Do I look like I’m joking?!’

‘Wait, her name was actually Nurse Sherlock?’

‘NO!’

‘Ohhh-kay,’ Mark shut the lid of his laptop, tucking it under his arm and making for the staircase.

‘Where are you going?’ I demanded.

‘Just feel like a nap,’ he grinned nervously, not slowing down.

‘It’s eleven-thirty!’ I yelled up at him.

‘Goodnight!’