The nicest son alive

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The next day, at breakfast, everything looked normal. Andrew was still sleeping, and no noise came from his room.

Meanwhile, from the kitchen, Ferry could hear sparrows-like chattering. Mrs. Nosey and Mrs. Lily Jones, the waitress at the tavern, were passionately debating the latest news in town: the Donovans' son returning. His mother, always nice and polite, was trying to answer the series of questions that kept on coming while serving them berry muffins and tea.

"The hospital should pay you damages for the suffering they caused you," said Mrs. Nosey in a husky voice, shaking her head with a serious demeanor. She was getting old and she couldn't see like she used to. So her eyes always seemed wide open with wonder behind the big dioptres spectacles. "It is outrageous what's happening in this world nowadays," she continued. "The poor boy... To get through so many at such a young age... You must be thrilled your son is back."

"Mr. Donovan is simply radiant with joy," Mrs. Jones added, clapping her hands. "He said the boy looks just like him. We can't wait to meet him."

Ferry's mother put on an awkward smile without saying a thing, pretending to clean the inexistent crumbs on the table.

"What about Ferry? The situation is quite difficult, don't you think?" Mrs. Nosey asked staring at Ferry's mom with her goggled eyes. Ferry could see the whole scene from the top of the stairs. He also noticed his mother's sadness.

"Well, I suppose we're going to adopt him..." she said with a faint voice. "I want to go to the Town Hall. I hope someone there will tell me what there is to be done..."

"Adopt him?" Mrs. Nosey shouted, making a theatrical gesture with her hand. "Oh, dear, don't you know what that means? It means another mouth to feed. And life it's so hard these days when everything it's so expensive. Besides, think about it, he's not even your son. How can you keep a stranger in your house? Someone who's not even your own blood..."

Ferry's mom was shaking her head. "It doesn't matter," she said, wringing her hands, "it doesn't matter he's not my own blood. I raised him as my own. Loved him as my own. He IS my own," she said, emphasising the words. "He's more my son than Andrew. I don't even know this boy..."

"Ferry? Your son?" shouted Mrs. Nosey, rolling her eyes. "Oh, dear, listen to yourself. You must be troubled and rightly so. But you mustn't think like that. Think about your real son. He's been through so much... He needs you. What's Peter thinking about this?" she flew at Eileen.

Ferry decided enough is enough, and he thought it was about time to end his mother's torment. He loudly came down the stairs.

"Good morning," he said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, darling," said Eileen, lighting up at his sight.

"Ferry, dear, good morning," said Mrs. Nosey, forcing her voice to sound sweet.

Ferry sat at the table and took a bite from a green apple without minding her. He didn't care about what she thought, anyway. She was nothing but a scheming, gossipy old lady. And she always saw him as weird and naughty.

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