The House We Called Home: The magical, laugh out loud summer holiday read from the bestselling Jenny Oliver. Jenny Oliver

answered the phone he knew she’d been the wrong person to call.

      ‘She says she’s going to keep it.’

      ‘Oh, Gus, love, that’s wonderful.’

      ‘It’s not wonderful.’

      ‘Where are you? It’s very loud.’

      ‘Cornwall. It’s the sea.’

      ‘You could do with a bit of fresh air.’

      He imagined her bustling round the kitchen, desperate to envelope him in a big, busty hug. She’d be clutching the cat, probably, to make up for his absence. He’d sighed, regretting the panic that had made him ring in the first place. ‘If she has it, I suppose it’ll only be every other weekend though, won’t it?’ he said, almost to himself. ‘Isn’t that what people do?’ He could hear his sister, Claudia, in the background as his mother relayed the whole chat to her, say, ‘Overnight usually in the week as well, Gussy!’

      ‘Stop it, the pair of you,’ his mother said. ‘You don’t just have a baby at the weekend, Gus. It’s forever. It’s in your life, that’s it.’

      Gus had made a hasty excuse to hang up then walked glassy-eyed after the dog, the word ‘forever’ looping in his head like the monotonous drone of the waves.

      Now the air was getting warmer as they walked. Out the other side of the field they trudged up the coastal path. A maze of brambles on one side, a sheer drop on the other. Gus peered down at the sea, tide in, lapping at the base of the cliff like a hungry dog. There was no shade. No one had thought to bring any water. By the time they got to the Coach and Horses they were all sweaty and sulky with thirst. Amy snapped at Rosie and Sonny to stop squabbling as she patted her skin with a tissue, checking in the window that her make-up was all still in place before they went in. Gus wondered if he had time to get a swift half in but thought he’d better not when Amy opened the door and all the locals greeted her with a big show of sympathetic enthusiasm. Gus thought he’d loiter close to the door instead. An old man by the bar gave Rosie a pound for the fruit machine which kept her and Sonny busy. Gus watched as a group of young surfer-looking guys hovered round Amy, hugging her, draping their arms round her shoulders, kissing her on the cheek and ruffling her hair. It was fascinating to watch. She seemed surprised to see them all and less comfortable with the attention than he’d presumed she might be, breaking the chat short to ask the barman if he’d seen her dad recently or noticed anything unusual.

      ‘Barely been in,’ the barman said. ‘Last couple of weeks haven’t seen him. Sorry, love.’

      Amy nodded. ‘That’s OK.’

      Behind her the fruit machine started beeping and flashing. Rosie yelped as coins started clanging into the tray. ‘I’ve won!’ she shouted.

      The whole place turned to look. Amy’s friends laughed, a couple of them swaggering over to gawp at the jackpot. Gus heard them invite Amy to sit down for a drink but she declined, pointing to the door, inadvertently at Gus, saying that they had to go. Gus lifted his hand in a self-conscious wave. One of the guys raised a brow at Amy. She did a little shake of her head, ‘It’s nothing like that,’ then helping Rosie scoop coins into her pocket, ushered them all back out into the sunshine.

      ‘Right, to the high street,’ she said, pushing her sunglasses on and pointing up the lane, clearly on edge.

      ‘Race you, Cow Pat,’ Sonny shouted and ran ahead.

      Rosie sprinted after him. ‘Don’t call me Cow Pat.’

      Gus found himself side by side with Amy.

      They walked in silence for a bit.

      ‘Everything OK?’ he asked, more just for something polite to say. She definitely seemed a bit odd but then she always seemed slightly odd to him.

      ‘Fine,’ she said, without turning his way.

      Gus nodded.

      A bus trundled by. They walked past a tea room and an antique centre. An old woman with a stick was deadheading her geraniums. ‘Oh, hello Amy, love. You all right?’ she asked.

      ‘Fine thank you, Mrs Obertone,’ Amy said, super polite, taking her sunglasses off and making a point of checking that Mrs Obertone’s children were well, etc.

      Gus shuddered. He couldn’t bear the idea of everyone knowing him and everything about him again. Visits to his parents’ house were always accompanied by wind-ups in the pub about when he was going to take over the farm.

      When they got to what Amy had referred to as the high street – a gallery, fish and chip shop, pasty shop, and pharmacy – Gus trailed behind her as she went into every shop and enquired about her father. And every single person enquired about her, a subject he noticed Amy expertly deflected, countering quick smart with questions about all the other person’s extended family. For Gus, it was painfully slow going.

      Finally, they got to the Londis.

      Gus ambled the aisles as Amy queued at the checkout to talk to the cashier whose name nobody could remember.

      He found Rosie in the toy section holding a Barbie in a box. ‘Don’t you think she looks like Amy?’ she said.

      Gus exhaled as he took the Barbie off her and stared, reluctantly, at the big blue eyes and the big blonde hair. ‘A bit.’

      ‘You don’t look like Ken,’ Rosie said flatly.

      Gus laughed. ‘No, I know I don’t.’

      ‘Your nose is too big,’ she said, giggling naughtily to herself after she said it.

      ‘Thanks.’

      Rosie looked confused. ‘I don’t understand why you said thanks.’

      ‘Because your aim was to insult me and it didn’t work.’

      Her cheeks pinked. ‘Will you tell my mum?’

      ‘Yes.’

      She looked panicked.

      ‘No,’ said Gus, rolling his eyes. ‘Why would I tell your mum? How old are you?’

      ‘Seven.’

      ‘Well, you’re old enough to learn. Don’t say bad shit about people’s noses.’

      ‘You said “shit”.’

      ‘Yes, I did. Got a problem with that?’

      ‘It’s not nice to swear.’

      ‘Are you going to tell my mum?’

      Rosie giggled. ‘I can’t tell your mum.’

      ‘Here,’ Gus got his phone out his pocket, ‘ring her up, tell her.’

      ‘Noooooo,’ Rosie laughed, like he was the silliest person she’d met.

      Gus put his phone away with a grin.

      Rosie picked up the Ken doll box. ‘He actually looks like Uncle Bobby.’ She turned to look at Gus. ‘He died. Did you know that?’

      Gus shook his head.

      ‘Surfing,’ Rosie said.

      ‘Oh right.’ Gus nodded. ‘And Uncle Bobby, that was your Mum and Amy’s brother, yeah?’ Part of him knew that that wasn’t going to be the right answer when he said it, but the part of him willing it to be right had overruled it. Because if, as he suspected, this Bobby character had been Amy’s husband then it suddenly added another layer to this person he’d inadvertently slept with. To this person he had intended to persuade to terminate the baby she was carrying. To this person who wasn’t really a person but just an airhead Britney Spears WhatsApp avatar.

      Rosie made a face at him, a real winner of an are-you-completely-stupid stare and said, ‘Mum doesn’t have a brother. Bobby was married to Amy. It’s really sad. Amy was really sad. Bobby was really handsome—’

      ‘That’s