to a certain extent , arnold matson feels like someone who has spun a coin into the air , waited for it to drop to the ground and , instead of it landing on either heads or tails , the object seems to have come to a halt on its edge , leaving arnold , as it were , in the epicentre of the emotional crossroads of edith moseley and her secret son , who at this very moment is adding a drop more seasoning to his home-built casserole , which is coming along nicely as it warms through on the gas stove .