"Anything I can do?"
"Lay the table."
"Done. Anything I can do in here, like peel some spuds?"
"No: everything's under control."
"Some washing up, then."
"I don't need any help."
"Okay, okay! I only asked."
Clare stares at the hob and wonders why her mum couldn't have bequeathed her something useful like her Hotpot recipe instead of a short fuse. She sighs.
"How about opening the wine, and sitting with me while I finish the cooking?"
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