She’s not wrong. I’ll add that to my jobs list to keep her on a leash. Nan takes an extra loud slurp of tea given she’s not got her teeth in. I glance down at Sonny and the colour is back in his cheeks. I do worry how we’re going to get him out of here, though. I’ll have to run out and buy him clothes or dress him in one of Nan’s old nighties. Maybe he can borrow that tracksuit temporarily.
‘How’s all that wedding stuff going by the way?’ Nan asks.
‘I’ve been reading love poetry this week, Nan. I had to write down all the love songs I know,’ he says, flaring his nostrils at me. It was an important exercise so he could get in touch with all his emotions. ‘But Josie is on it.’
‘Of course your sister is on it.’ She looks over and winks at me. ‘If she’d been at your stag, she wouldn’t have let you get chained to a lamp post.’
This is true. ‘Should we text Dad? Brett? Let them know you’re safe?’ I ask.
‘Or not. Let the wankers worry for a bit. They should have been looking out for you,’ Nan says.
‘I like that idea,’ says Sonny. ‘It also gives me a breather from all of it. It’s been intense. They all just want to drink till it comes out of our eyeballs and I don’t think my liver can take much more. What did you tell everyone at Ruby’s do? Where do they think you are?’
‘In my room with a headache.’
‘So basically, you should be painting the town red with your manfriends and you should be handling some stripper’s willy like a pepper grinder, but instead, you’re here with your old nan. You couple of sad cases.’
We both burst into laughter. Nan doesn’t look like she’s too upset by this, though. Because I guess we’re not little kids anymore that she can pick up at the school gate and take on the buses. We grew up, real life got in the way. I can’t remember the last time we spent some time with her that wasn’t a birthday or special occasion or popping by to help her move furniture. We haven’t been together here for an age. There is something warming about it.
‘You want to do something fun? I’ve got cards? We can play Shithead? Your blow-up mate can join in.’
I look over to Keeley, she’s pulled a puncture and her head lolls over to one side. Sonny, however, looks ready for a card game and gathers his duvets and sits up. Now, Shithead I remember. Nan used to come on holiday with us and we used to play this after dinner. Nan always cheated, just like she does at Scrabble. I’ve never met someone more competitive.
‘Also, if we leave the sliding door open, you can get a hit of the downstairs neighbours’ weed.’
Sonny leans over, laughing, trying to get comfortable. ‘Stag do of dreams.’
‘Too bloody right. Now pour me some brandy, and sit with your legs together, boy. I’m your grandmother, put the jewels away for fuck’s sake.’
TWENTY-TWO
There are many good things about today. It’s one of those icy-cold days where spring is waiting around the corner but affording us a preview of blue skies and sunshine, a spot I developed from my post-trauma addiction to fast food has since subsided and, well, today is Valentine’s Day. That is an especially good business day for The Love Shack, it’s an excuse to buy cut-out lingerie and introduce new treats to the bedroom. But this wonderful day will now always have new meaning: it will forever be the day my little brother got married.
Today is all about the love. And what I am most in love with? Well, whoever decided that my bridesmaid dress should come with pockets. Hurrah to that person, these are the sorts that deserve all the awards in my opinion. The pockets are good because today I have important duties so I need to be prepared. Dog poo bags and treats in one pocket, Maoams and ceremony reading in the other. Today, I am here to wrangle, I am here to maid of honour for my life.
‘Josie, come here and tell me if this girl’s made me look like a raccoon?’ Nan says in the make-up chair.
Speaking of wrangling. Nan is not dressed up yet. She’s still in her tracksuit but accessorised to the hilt, so she looks like a Mafioso-style grandmother, who ironically would have a son called Fabio. She’s the one who gives the orders and sleeps with a shotgun, live in fear of that one.
‘It’s a dusky eye, Nan. It’s nice.’
‘If I cry, will it end up halfway down my cheeks?’ she asks the girl.
‘All waterproof,’ she tells her.
Nan doesn’t look so sure.
I look to my watch. ‘Nan, we’ve got to get a wriggle on. We need you downstairs and in position in half an hour.’
Nan nods, giving me a hint of side-eye. The reason it’s taken her so long to get ready is that she’s taken full advantage of a long weekend in a country house hotel. Turns out she’s already done a round of aquarobics and stayed the full length of time for the buffet breakfast. That’s four hours of bacon, eggs and pastries. Her dress had better still fit.
I usher the make-up girl out and go over to the dress hanging on the wardrobe. We’ve gone with 1950s tea dress, a suitable heel. I watch as she takes off her tracksuit to reveal some mildly exotic underwear underneath. It’s a matching tangerine set, a full knicker and a very pretty full cupped bra.
‘Nan, I like the knickers.’
‘M&S. I thought I’d splash out.’
‘Is it because Sonny invited Wesley later?’
