I didn't talk to him again that night. I barely saw him, other than at the stroke of midnight, when he gave Jennifer a close-mouthed kiss before they parted and immediately went as far away from each other as possible. I hung around for another half an hour or so, but then I withdrew to my room.

That night didn't offer much sleep. I found it impossible to get comfortable. I tossed and turned, feeling either too hot or too cold. I felt sick, and sat up, thinking I would have to go to the toilet. But it passed, and I lay down again. I'm not entirely sure I slept at all, and at best, I was in a sort of half-asleep state. I either dreamt or fantasised about Daniel, but in a way that I didn't seem to have any control over, and which was really surreal and distorted.

By half past seven in the morning, I gave up. My eyes were sore, I was so tired. I could feel the after-effects of the alcohol I'd been drinking. I felt restless. I pulled on my grey sweatpants and white t-shirt and went downstairs to make some coffee. If I couldn't sleep (and I couldn't), then I could only do my best to wake up properly.

The downstairs rooms looked deserted. Someone had clearly made an attempt to gather the glasses in the kitchen, but despite this attempt, there seemed to be glasses everywhere. I prepared the coffee, and as it was bubbling away, I decided to make an effort to gather stray glasses. Reaching the sitting room, I was surprised to see Daniel there.

He was sitting in his usual chair, asleep. He was still dressed in his suit, but the tie was opened and hanging around his neck like a scarf. The first three buttons of his shirt were open. He was stretched out, his head resting against the back of the chair and his arms hung loosely on each side of the armrests. His lips were slightly parted, and his hair almost covered his eyes.

I wasn't sure what to do, but decided it would be weird not to announce my presence. Maybe he had just fallen asleep whilst he collecting glasses and he would prefer sleeping the rest of the morning in his bed. I walked up to him, touching his shoulder lightly, saying, "Daniel?"

He didn't as much as stir.

"Daniel?" I said again, a little louder.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. His gaze was a little unfocused, as if he didn't quite know where he was and why I was waking him.

"Sorry," I said, "it looked a little uncomfortable sleeping in the chair like that."

He yawned and stretched. "Thanks. Yeah. Christ, my arms feel numb."

"I've just made coffee, do you want some?"

"Oh, God, yes. Please."

"I'll bring it through."

When I returned with two mugs of coffee, he seemed a lot more with it. He accepted the coffee mug with a nod of thanks. I sat down in the chair next to his, pulling my feet up. I felt ridiculous in my sweats and t-shirt, next to Daniel's black suit.

"Ah..." He said, drinking from the mug. "I needed that. I fell asleep here - obviously. Bloody murder for my back, unfortunately." Then he looked at his wristwatch. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," I said.

"Oh dear. Is that some weird personal Y2K bug, do you think?"

I laughed. "No, I don't think so."

"God, I can't believe it's 2000. Can you? I remember when I was a kid, and year 2000 sounded like something out of a science fiction novel. You know, I remember thinking that I'd turn 32 in 2000, and I thought it was ancient."

"But now you know better?" I smiled.

"Right now, no I don't. After a night in this chair, I feel at least a hundred."

I looked towards the door, wanting to make sure that Jennifer wasn't waiting outside.

"I'm sure she's still sleeping," Daniel said, noticing what I was doing.

"Okay. Well, you know, uh, I was talking to Magnus last night..."

"I know you did. What did he say?"

"He helped me interpret those cufflinks you lent me. Your initials, Lad's love, I mean... You could've told me."

For a moment, he actually looked mildly embarrassed. Then he cleared his throat, and said, "I would have, but I thought it was a bit sappy. I was given those cufflinks from a university boyfriend with an Oscar Wilde complex. I have another pair with a green carnation."

That information didn't mean anything to me at the time, but now I know that Oscar Wilde apparently used to wear a green carnation in his buttonhole, and the flower became a symbol of homosexuality.

Daniel finished his coffee and continued, "I suppose I just wanted to make some sort of gesture seeing as we were somewhat interrupted the morning after that night. It bothered me that you might have thought that I just did what I did because I was, well, high."

"We did what we did," I corrected him. "I don't mind it. It's nice. You should have told me, though."

"I should have. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

We didn't get to talk about it more, since Hugo came running down and Daniel had to stop him from breaking any stray glasses or chewing on the little gold '2000' confetti that still lay strewn across most of the floor.

Still, New Year's became the starting point of the period in my life that I still think of as the Sneaky Spring. Daniel and I started seeing each other (by which I effectively mean screwing each other) any chance we got. For good or bad, we didn't get too many chances - at least not as many as we would have liked. He was working as much as ever and when he was at home, Jennifer and the boys were usually at home as well. On top of this, it didn't take Daniel long to realise that my stay as their au pair was shortly coming to an end (I realised it as well, but chose not to think of it), and that it had never been my intention - or theirs - that it should be extended. He therefore suggested that I apply for an English university.

"If you don't get in, you'll stay with us and re-apply next term," he said, and I didn't see much point in arguing as I was still head over heels in love with him and the mere thought of returning to Sweden made my stomach ache. Jennifer thought this was a good idea as well, and in terms of losing me as their au pair, she seemed even more troubled than Daniel.

On a whim, I decided that I wanted to do medicine, and applied for every university within commuting distance from London. Daniel was extremely pleased to find out I wanted to go to medical school, and put me in contact with practically everyone he knew who had been to medical school themselves. I was certain that I wouldn't get in, so I tried not to think about it too much. Thankfully, my secret relationship with Daniel allowed me to forget most other things.

When we had the opportunity, we screwed each other senseless. After that first night together, I started keeping condoms and lube in my room so that it would never again fail on simple practical details. Our sexual roles were a matter of our preference on that particular day: sometimes he would take me, sometimes I would take him. I enjoyed both equally; I think Daniel did as well.

When we didn't have the opportunity, I walked around in a state of acute jealousy. It seemed such a waste that he would sleep with Jennifer when all they did was lie next to each other like two strangers. I began thinking of her as a hindrance. To my mind, she was stopping Daniel and me from being happy together. I'm not sure whether she noticed any change in my attitude towards her, but if she didn't, it would have to count for a small miracle. Most of the time, I was seething. Whenever she and Daniel were in the same room, I kept watch over their interactions, trying to detect even the smallest hint that they were still in love. I never saw anything between them that gave me cause to feel jealous.

.

To my complete and utter surprise, I was accepted to medical school. When I found out, I wasn't happy, like I probably should have been. Instead, I felt an all-consuming sense of dread. Though it was obvious that I had got in based on my interview rather than my grades, I "knew" that I wasn't clever enough for medical school. I phoned my mother to let her know, and when she told me how proud she was in a voice that made me think that she was crying or at the very least close to tears, I only got angry with her.

Daniel and Jennifer received the news with an appropriate mix of being happy for me and being sad to see me go. I knew that Daniel was secretly happy that I would be staying in the country though. The only problem was that rather than me finding my own accommodation, Jennifer arranged for a friend of hers to take me in. That meant that Daniel wouldn't be able to come and visit me. I couldn't stay in the Barton house, since my room there would be needed for the next au pair. It felt strange to be that replaceable. It was however a small source of joy for me that their next au pair would be female.

Everything seemed to work out fine. Sneaky Spring was coming to an end, becoming Sneaky Summer. In July, I went to Sweden to spend a couple of weeks with my family and old friends. I was 'spending two weeks at home,' as my mother put it, but it didn't feel like that anymore. With my life and my love in England, I had stopped thinking of Sweden as my home. I spent my weeks in Sweden missing Daniel with a passion.

However, about a week after my return to England, everything went spectacularly pear-shaped.

Jennifer had taken the boys to the park, blissfully unaware that she was thus giving Daniel and me the chance to catch up on our involuntary month-long sexual dry spell. We waited for ten minutes or so after the door had closed behind the others, just in case they had forgotten something and would return. After those ten minutes (of sweet torture), we virtually ran upstairs to my room. Laughing, happy and excited, we rid ourselves of our clothes, throwing them all over the floor. We got into my unmade bed, and after a little while of fooling around, we found our preferred position of that moment: I sprawled out on my back and Daniel astride me. Seeing him moving on top of me like that, first with his back straight as if he was horseback riding, then leaning a little forward, one hand on the bed next to me, one around himself, made me make delirious plans to photograph him like that. Given our urgency, it couldn't last very long, but it was still perfect.

Before we had quite caught our breaths, we heard Jennifer's voice from behind us. She was standing by the door, looking at us with eyes so hateful that even then, I found it difficult to feel sympathy for her. Had she cried, I think that would have been the last I ever saw of Daniel. But she didn't. She was perfectly composed, talking in a voice that was so hard and cold that I've never been able to forget it.

"If you're quite done acting like some wanton whore, Daniel, perhaps you would like to join us downstairs. Charles decided he didn't want to go to the park without you, since apparently I'm not a good enough goalkeeper. The boys are waiting downstairs." She made to leave, but then turned back to us. "Oh, in your own time, of course. And do wipe your cum off the au pair, I believe anything else would be bad manners."

After that little episode, many things happened in very quick succession. Daniel set about making a number of arrangements relating to his marriage and his relationship to me. One of these arrangements was to get me out of the house as soon as possible. When what had happened became known in the Barton's social circle, the friend of Jennifer's that I was supposed to stay with wasn't very keen to take me - of course, as her loyalties were with Jennifer. She explained this to Daniel in very illustrative language, but by then he had already found me somewhere else to stay.

I was offered a room in a Notting Hill townhouse, owned by one of Daniel's childhood friends. This particular friend, William, was very sympathetic of my situation on personal grounds. He was the most flamboyant person I had ever met in my life, to the point where it was sometimes too much. He did have a lot of good qualities, though. One of which was the unfailing support he would always offer me whenever I was stressed or upset about something. Sometimes he would comment on my "boyish good looks," or he would roll his eyes and say things like, "mothers, lock up your sons, or Nicky-boy will lead them to the dark side" whenever I was going out on a Friday evening. But he never once crossed the line or made me feel uncomfortable.

I had lived with him for almost two months before I learnt that he was fiercely faithful to a closeted Tory politician. (I had lived with William for a year before I even met the politician in question, which says something about how nervous they both were for anyone to know). William turned out to be a great person to drink and complain about life with. Given how much I really was complaining to him during my first term at university, I'm not sure how he had the patience to put up with me. After the horrendously embarrassing incident with Jennifer, Daniel found himself caught up in a divorce that seemed to take forever. I, wallowing in self-pity as always, found myself unjustly robbed of Daniel's company. Though we did talk on the phone as often as we could, we met physically only once a month or so - and even then his mind was clearly on other things. I understood him, but a month shy of 20, I was still young and restless. Poor William listened to me moan about it on a weekly basis.

"It's a good thing," William told me, as we sat together in his drawing room (of course he would have a drawing room!) one evening, drinking gin and tonics. "It takes time, it's messy, he'll have time to think. I say good for you both! That way, when everything is over, he'll have thought it through. He'll know what he wants. Between you and me, he only ever married because it was expected of him. Not that he put up much of a fight, of course. He just found himself out of university one day, making obscene money at that bank, wondering what to do next. Then, wham! Enter Jennifer. The daughter of old friends of the Barton family. She tossed her long, dark hair, and Daniel's parents mistook his fascination with the unknown for genuine romantic interest. They were married not a year later. If he had been given the time to think, he would have realised what all of us who knew him from the good old days knew, namely that he's as gay as they come. He jumped into it. If things weren't so messy right now, he might have jumped into it with you. And you may both have realised that it was wrong for you."

"But he told me that if I wanted to see other people, it would be fine with him," I said, sulkily. It was true that Daniel had told me that, but it was in response to a particularly snide remark on my part. Conveniently, I left that bit out of my conversation with William.

"Aw, honey. That's because he knows how much fun you can have at university in that respect. If things don't work out between you, he doesn't want to be the person who stopped you from enjoying all those boys who go through a 'phase' at uni. It doesn't mean that's what he wants, though." William gave me a more maternal look than my own mother had ever mustered.

"I wish he could make up his bloody mind as to what he wants," I muttered.

"I think he knows what he wants," William said seriously. "He's just trying to keep you out of the general unpleasantness of his divorce. It's nice of him, you know. The selfish thing to do would have been to drag you into it."

Around Christmas time 2000, Daniel found his own place. Waiting for the divorce to finalise, he and Jennifer had at least agreed to rent out their house. Daniel rented a flat a stone's throw from St. Pancras. It cost an arm and a leg, but he could afford it and didn't even seem to understand my reaction when I found out what it cost. With Jennifer out of the picture, I assumed that our relationship would become more ... normal. That we would be able to do things together, like a normal couple.

That didn't happen, though. He worked long hours and spent the weekends looking after the boys, meaning that the only time we got together were weeknights. It was just that with my studies, I had to use most weeknights to cram for exams. We saw practically nothing of each other, but because we now believed that we had the 'opportunity' to see each other when we wanted, we didn't bother to keep in contact by phone.

It was a house of cards just waiting for the gentlest breeze to make it collapse. Still. We kept at it until summer 2001, and then we decided to call it quits.

I had just sat my last exam of the term, and was supposed to meet up with Daniel between the exam and the party in the evening. When I arrived at his flat, he had just arrived himself, having spent the better part of the day in negotiations with various solicitors and he was in a foul mood.

He didn't need me to tell him that I wasn't there for him, he said, because he knew that. I told him that if he knew that, why didn't he do something about it. He said that he was clearly too much of a fuck-up to ever be able to keep anyone close for any length of time. And so on. We spent two hours shouting at each other, both of us saying pretty much the same thing: We wanted to spend more time together, but things got in the way.

That argument didn't cause our break-up. In hindsight, I know it was a break-up waiting to happen. We never did have enough time for each other, no matter how much we loved one another. That's what made it so bitter. When I left Daniel's flat, I walked back to Notting Hill. William only had to say, "Hi," and then I broke down. I cried like a baby because I was so angry with Daniel but I still just wanted him back. William held me, stroked my back, made me tea, everything he could think of to make me stop crying.

In the end, he told me in no uncertain terms to go and get myself cleaned up and then go to the party. I was in no party mood, but I also had no will of my own, so I did as he said. That night set the trend for the next three years. I hooked up with guy in my class who has since married and who was probably, as William had put it, going through a 'phase' at university.

It was three years of partying. Three years of drinking and complaining with William. Three years of no strings attached sex with university boys. Three years during which I didn't even see Daniel. I never stopped missing him, but I after a year or so, I stopped hoping that he would ever return to me. I knew he wouldn't. I heard about him through William, but as time passed, I heard less and less. I had stopped asking long before.

.

I didn't tell my parents about my homosexuality until I went to Sweden for a month during the summer of 2004. I was 23 years old, on my 24th, and as I had surpassed the age at which my father married, it seemed natural that my mother (nosy person that she is) would enquire about any 'steady girlfriends', as she put it. When I told her that I wasn't very likely to find a girlfriend at all, let alone a steady one, she said she had suspected I wouldn't. I think the few times I had imagined coming out to my parents, I had presumed that my mother would be crying. She didn't shed a tear. I did, however. I snivelled like some alcoholic femme fatale on the white screen. My mother and I were sitting by the kitchen table when I told her, and when my father walked into the kitchen and enquired, naturally, why his son was crying like a little girl, my mother said, "It's as we expected, dear, and he's a bit upset about it."

I returned to London in August 2004 with renewed confidence. Now when I had told my parents about my homosexuality, I felt like I could be open with anyone about it. I hadn't exactly made a secret of it before, but something had changed in me. I felt properly grown up, at last.

It was as if I had found my place in the world: William's house felt as much mine as his (when I finally moved away, it turned out that he thought of it that way as well), my English was flawless, I was a year away from graduating from medical school, I was well dressed, well read, popular with girls and boys alike. I went to parties, I was socially well-connected (much more so than I had ever been in Sweden), I played tennis with a friend on a weekly basis and spent a lot of time running. It felt like I was pretty set. My future was bright. For the first time ever - or at least for the first time since I graduated high school - I could feel that freedom that my mother had talked about at my graduation party.

That autumn something extraordinary happened: William arranged a party to celebrate his ten years with the Tory politician. He described the event as 'intimate,' which before I moved in with him would have had me think of a dinner party for ten or so people. Having lived with William for four years, however, I knew better. Thus, I was hardly surprised when it transpired that there were 50 names on the guest list, plus a live band.

"I thought he was in the closet," I said to William on the subject of his Tory friend.

"There are degrees of closet-ness, isn't there?" William replied. "There are those who marry and do everything in their power never to let anyone know about them. Then there are those who just don't talk about it."

"And he just doesn't talk about it?"

"If he were to come out, I'm sure it would surprise some. But he's hardly the only one, you know. At any rate, we've only invited people we would trust with our lives."

"And the bloody band?"

"The girls in the band are daughters of guests. Sworn to secrecy." He grinned.

On the evening of the party, I became very aware of the fact that gay Tories weren't as rare as I had previous thought. It seemed that William and his partner had invited half of the guests each. Out of the 25 that William's partner had invited, I only recognised a handful. Most of them were conservative politicians, and most of them seemed to be in the company of a same-sex partner. Among William's 25 guests, I recognised about half. Most of them were also friends of Daniel's, so I had met them at various occasions at the Barton house.

It was a black tie event - much like a wedding but without the actual wedding ceremony. Still, it was informal enough that I felt comfortable wearing a blue waistcoat and matching ascot tie with my black dinner jacket. When I picked out my cufflinks, I had thought about wearing Daniel's (which were still in my possession), but decided against it. Instead, I opted for a pair that held no meaning to me whatsoever other than being decorative. Though I hadn't worked up the nerve to actually ask William, I was suspecting that he had invited Daniel. I could easily imagine a nightmare scenario that included me wearing Daniel's cufflinks and Daniel appearing with someone else on his arm. It wasn't that I had any hopes or even wishes to kiss and make up with Daniel, but I certainly didn't want to be humiliated.

Of course, he was invited. I was talking to William and a lesbian couple when I felt William nudging me gently, nodding over towards the stairs. Daniel had just walked in, in perfect monochrome elegance, looking as sure of himself as I remembered him from when I had first met him. His hair was shorter than I remembered, not as floppy anymore. He was perfectly clean-shaven, which seemed to somehow emphasise how slim and graceful he was. I felt completely unable to decide what to do: walk over to him or run up to my room the fastest I could.

William and I both looked on as Daniel walked over to William's partner to greet him, and we both knew that the next thing he'd do would be to search out William. William did his absolute best to keep conversation going with the lesbians, whilst I was anxiously keeping my eyes on Daniel, who was talking to William's partner in that way of his that I recognised as being in a good mood, but still slightly guarded. He held a glass in one hand, then put the other to the upper arm of William's partner, as if he was saying, "Ok, let me just go and find William and we can talk more about the Hunting Act later."

Daniel left William's partner and instead clearly searched the room for William. When William became aware that he had been spotted, he excused himself from the lesbians and walked up to meet Daniel halfway through the room. I dropped a couple of steps behind him, but tagged along. As William gave Daniel a quick hug and a peck to his cheek, I was standing aside. They chatted for a few moments, then William made up some cock-and-bull excuse about needing to check on the food and disappeared.

Daniel stood perfectly still for a moment, just looking at me. I tried but failed to read him. I couldn't even guess what hid behind that perfect composure.

Then he said, "You look different."

"I am different," I replied.

He caught the fringe of my hair between two fingers, at the same time smoothing it and pulling it away from my face.

"Your hair is longer," he said, his attention on the strand between his fingers until it was behind my ear. Then he looked me in the eyes.

"Yours is shorter."

"How are you these days?" He asked. We started moving towards the stairs, and when we reached them, we sat down; I sat two steps below Daniel, his knee perfectly positioned so that I could lean against it if I wanted. I didn't.

"These days, fine," I said, wanting him to get the hint that it had taken me a while to get over him but that I now was, definitely, over him. "Doing my final year, came out to my parents, you know, this and that."

"How did they take it?"

"They were unsurprised." I finished my drink. "How are the boys? How old are they now?"

"Charlie's nine and Hugo's seven. Charlie's at boarding school and Hugo will probably join him next year. They're doing well, I'm proud of them."

"You should be. And how are you keeping up?"

"Oh, alright, you know. I'm back in the house. Jennifer's living with her new husband in Barnet, of all bloody places."

"Good for her, I suppose. I still can't get over the last time I saw her." I did my best Jennifer impersonation when I said, "Do wipe your cum off the au pair, everything else would be bad manners."

Daniel chuckled. "I've never been so mortified in my life."

"Me neither. Christ... Do you see much of her?"

"It wasn't exactly an amicable divorce, so we generally see as little of each other as possible. Especially since she remarried."

"And you? Are you seeing anyone new?"

"I was seeing a judge for about a year, but we split up on account of, well, let's call it irreconcilable differences."

"Oh?"

"He was into cross-dressing and I'm not."

"Ah."

We fell quiet. Someone came past to top up our drinks. The very young boyfriend of a slightly older MP came running from the drawing room and up the stairs with the MP in tow, laughing so much he could barely make it past us.

"I miss you sometimes, you know," Daniel said suddenly. "I think we had something good going on, I'm sorry I screwed it up."

"You didn't screw anything up. It just didn't work," I said.

"Maybe so. Either way, I'm sorry. We parted on terrible terms."

"I went straight back to William's and cried my heart out, you know."

"I know. He came knocking on my door that evening to tell me off about it. When he saw that I was in a similar state, he decided to try to cheer me up instead. It didn't really work, but I appreciate his effort."

I contemplated what Daniel had said, listening as the band started playing Piece of my Heart. Maybe it was the come on, come on, come on, come on leading up to the first chorus that made me want to grab Daniel and bring him to the dance floor.

Still, I tried being a gentleman, so instead of just grabbing him, I stood up and held out my hand, saying, "Do you want to dance?"

He smiled at me, a kind of peculiar smile I had seen on him too few times. Part loving, part mischievous, I think. He took my hand, and I led him through the other dancing people until we found a spot in the middle of it all. Daniel had his arms around my hips and I mine around his neck as we moved with the beat of the music. By the second chorus, we were so close I felt his breath against my skin.

By you can have it, have another little piece of my heart, baby, we kissed. It felt right, the way it should be. As if the past three years had only been an interregnum, and now things were in order again.

"Aw, isn't that darling! I knew you wouldn't be able to keep away from each other," William said as he danced past us.

Daniel smiled, "Well, I can't keep away from you, anyway."

"I can't keep away from you either," I said, but felt like I had to add, "Nothing's changed though, has it? If we were to pick up where we left off, we would still have no time together."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"I mean, my house is too big for one person, really."

"How would that work, exactly?"

The band launched into a surprisingly bearable version of UB40's Red Red Wine. Daniel stopped dancing and just held me tight, looking deeply into my eyes.

"We would both live busy lives, but we would have every night and every weekend together. If we both get up early, we would have breakfast together."

"It's been three years," I told him, impressed with myself for managing to keep a clear head when all I wanted to do was to let him bring me with him home that night and never let me go. "We've changed. It might not work."

"If it doesn't, you can move back here. We could have a three-month trial period. If we can't stand each other after three months, that's it. If we can, then we'll live happily ever after."

I'd like to say that I thought about it rationally for a few seconds, but in reality, I was just trying to put off the inevitable moment when I jumped up at Daniel, arms around his neck, legs around his waist (yes, really), and kissed him between fervent agreements to his plan.

.

I think about my high school graduation sometimes, because I remember what a big deal everyone made about how it was the break point between adolescence and adulthood. The transformation was hardly completed when I received my grades that day, but at least I took the first steps. For the first time in my life, I had to figure out on my own what I wanted to do. If I think of my own experience growing up, I would probably say that it started with my graduation and ended that night at the party William and the Tory MP hosted (he has since come out, but I still won't tell you his name). With that kiss on the dance floor, perhaps, if you're feeling romantically inclined. At least ending it there makes sense from a story-telling point of view.

After graduation, it was my life's next break point, you know?

The rest is just an epilogue:

The very next day, I packed up my clothes and books and moved back to the house I'd not seen for almost four years. Daniel had redecorated the bedroom, as if he had wanted to erase any trails of his life with Jennifer. We turned my old room into a study for me. Daniel had an office only a couple of doors away. I have no idea why that seemed like a romantic thing to do, but I think we both felt like it was.

The three-month trial period has turned into five years and counting. We're still both very busy, Daniel doing ridiculous hours at the bank and me doing similar hours at the hospital, and sometimes it feels like we don't see each other all week. But whenever it happens, we always make sure to make up for it during the weekend.

The boys are both boarding now, but when they're home for the holidays, they stay half the time with us and half the time with Jennifer and her husband. The biggest worry I had once Daniel and I had decided to make our arrangement permanent was how the boys would take to me when I was no longer their au pair but their father's significant other. At first, they didn't seem to really notice or understand the arrangement. But they soon started comparing Daniel and my relationship to that of Jennifer and her husband. The summer when Charles was staying with us for a couple weeks and I heard him talk to one of his mates over the phone, saying that he was staying with his "dad and bonus dad," I was damn well near tears. It just seemed to make things complete, I suppose.

I would say all's well that ends well, but bloody hell - it's only just started.