“This is an important one, Angus,” I said, holding my list of Esperanto words, “but I have no idea how to define it for him.” “What is it?” “Sekura.” “What does it mean?” “Safe.” We sat in silence for a while, Angus holding his chin in mock thought, me staring at the word and coming up blank, Bertie between us both, unresponsive. “Hug him, missus,” said Angus. “Hug him?” “Yeah. I reckon the only time any of us feel really safe is when our mum’s hugging us.”
