Mum considered this. “That is a fair point.” She sat down on the sofa and put her arm around Oliver. “Luc, this is Oliver, he is my son. He is a very nice boy, he has a good job and always calls his mother. Oliver”—she gestured contemptuously at me with her free hand—“this is some ungrateful shit who sometimes comes to my house and eats my curry and complains about it.”
