Jay had gone to live with his nan when he was seventeen and was still very close to her, but, even so, whenever Emma had asked about meeting her, he’d always said it wasn’t the right time and had swiftly changed the subject.
‘Don’t be nervous,’ he said now. ‘You and Nan will get on like a house on fire.’
‘Will we?
‘Of course. Nan’s salt of the earth — a good old-fashioned East Ender. Be nice to her and she’ll be nice to you.’
‘Okay.’ As they walked down a street of red-brick terraced houses, Emma asked, ‘But why now, all of a sudden, am I allowed to meet her?’
Jay shrugged, once again in defensive mode. ‘It’s just the right time.’
‘Eighteen months is a long time not to meet any of your family. I can understand your mum and step-dad, but not your nan. Are you ashamed of me?’
‘No, of course not!’ He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. ‘It’s just complicated, that’s all.’
‘Did she ever meet Susie?’ Emma asked, determined not to be fobbed off yet again.
‘Once. They hated each other on sight.’
‘That doesn’t bode well, then.’ She was even more nervous now.
‘No, it’s fine. They didn’t get on because Susie looked down her nose at Nan, and Nan wasn’t having any of it.’
‘So did that put you off introducing me to her?’
‘Sort of. Not really. I can’t explain. Let’s just see how today goes, shall we?’
Emma sighed inwardly, realising she wasn’t going to get any more out of him. This whole family thing was so frustrating.
Jay interrupted the silence. ‘It’s not as though I’ve met any of your family, is it?’
‘That’s different. They live in Portugal.’
Emma had to admit he did have a point. She could have arranged a trip for Jay to meet her parents if she’d wanted to. But they showed precious little interest in meeting up with her, let alone her boyfriend. Maybe she and Jay were both as bad as each other where their families were concerned. She changed the subject.
‘So, as long as I mind my p’s and q’s I’ll be all right then?’
‘Of course you will. Just be yourself and Nan will love you.’ He leaned across and gave her a reassuring peck on the cheek. ‘How could she not?’
Emma smiled hesitantly and hoped he was right.
They turned into a small pedestrianised courtyard with a patch of lawn and a cherry tree facing three terraced houses. Jay stopped in front of the middle one and said, ‘This is it.’
The black door was immaculately painted, the windows sparkling in the afternoon sunlight and draped with bright white net curtains. Emma could tell by the look of it that Jay’s nan was house-proud.
Jay walked down the immaculate, weed-free path and rang the doorbell.
‘Door’s on the latch,’ a voice shouted from within. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony.’
‘Nan, how many times do I have to say it? You shouldn’t leave the door on the latch, you never know who might walk in.’
Jay led Emma down a narrow corridor to a large kitchen at the back, where a small, plump woman with white hair scraped back into a messy bun stood. ‘Nonsense. Everyone knows me round here.’
‘No, Nan, they don’t. Times have changed. You need to be more careful.’
Jay’s nan turned towards Emma. ‘He’s only stepped through the door and already he’s on at me. What kind of a hello is that? You must be Emma. Pleased to meet you, seeing as my grandson hasn’t had the decency to introduce you.’
‘You’ve barely given me a chance, Nan. Getting a word in edgeways might be nice.’
