‘Does anyone want to think of a sign to ask Mummy?’ I whisper. To be fair to her, Claire has always held up her end of her deathbed bargain. The ability of my overachieving late wife to deliver signs from the other side is, frankly, jaw-dropping. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I Want it That Way has blared out in all manner of contexts. Even her spirit is impressive. ‘Partridge,’ Nancy murmurs. Actually, she’s so knackered she slurs it. ‘A partridge?’ Stel and I say together. What the fuck? Nancy’s little body stiffens. ‘A partridge.’ Okay then. ‘A partridge it is,’ I say with a
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