By the time I’d taken it off the hob so that I could wipe off the spillage with a tea towel, an unwelcome smell told me that the sauce had burned itself into the base of its pan. ‘Bugger!’ I shouted, just as Tom came into the kitchen. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ he asked. ‘Dinner’s wrong. I think I’ve ruined it. Smell that sauce.’ Without a word, he took another pan from its place in the rack, lifted the original off the heat and emptied its contents into the replacement. Then he turned down the ring from level three, where I’d mistakenly set it, to one, and set the meal back to cooking. He looked at the rest of it and murmured, ‘We haven’t lost very much. It’ll be okay.’ I looked at him and thought of one of my favourite movies, Con Air, and the part where Agent Larkin asks Cameron Poe what he’s going to do for him and Cameron replies, ‘What do you think I’m gonna do? I’m gonna save the fuckin’ day!’ ‘Thank you, Cameron,’ I said, and Tom laughed.
