‘That’s too much, it’s a time for family, don’t mind me,’ Cameron replies.
‘That’s such bullshit,’ Nan says. Cameron tries to stifle his giggles. ‘It’s a time to welcome people into your fold when they’ve got nowhere to go. Like Mary and Joseph and the whole innkeeper thing. We’ve got plenty of room. Come on over and I can inspect you properly. I hope you’ve got a Christmas jumper.’
‘Only if you’re sure…’ Cameron mumbles, looking at me. I’m not going to have much choice in this matter, am I? I shrug. ‘I do have a jumper. It’s got Santa on it.’
‘Well, my jumper’s got a snowman with a carrot for a knob,’ replies Nan.
He chuckles heartily this time. ‘Well, count me in. Let me have a shower, be there in about an hour?’
Mum claps her hands excitedly. ‘Yay!’
‘Are you really sure? Susie? Fabio? I won’t be intruding in any way?’
Nan furrows her brow again.
‘It’ll be our pleasure,’ Dad says. ‘We’ll see you in a bit.’
The screen goes blank and Nan looks over at all of us, her Nan cogs whirring. We all avoid her enquiring gaze.
‘Johnny,’ she says to Dad.
‘Mum?’
‘Are you back in porn again?’ she asks.
‘WHAT?’ he squeals back.
‘You were in hospital a few weeks ago, did you overdo it sexing someone?’
Mum erupts into hysterics. ‘No, Barbara.’
‘Then what sort of rubbish, Eurotrash name is Fabio? I thought you’d got back into the game and it’s one of your personas.’
Dad looks mortified, if very, very confused. ‘I haven’t done porn in years, Mum. This is not related to that?’
‘Then is it a nickname?’ she asks.
‘Also, no. He thinks my name is Fabio.’
‘Doesn’t sound anything like Johnny.’
Mum and Dad look over to me. ‘You’d better prep your nan before he comes over?’
‘Prep me for what?’ she asks, her tone stern, slightly serious.
‘Well, Nan… It’s kind of a funny story.’
FOURTEEN
‘Well, after I had my run in Vegas, I then went to live on a commune in San Francisco and that was where I met Fabio’s father. Lovely fella, his name was Gianni, but terrible with the drink and there came a moment when I knew I had to leave and get out of there, so I came back to London.’
I can literally feel a roast potato lodge in my throat as Nan recounts the very made-up story of her life, a purple paper hat rested on her silver curls. It’s all utter crap. After we FaceTimed Cameron, I told her the whole complicated story.So if he’s coming here, Nan, just go with it. You can be whoever you want. Just play along for today. Don’t talk about Sonny. I’m going to tell him who I am eventually,but it needs to come from me.
I thought Nan’s story would at least have come with a touch of normal. She was born in London, raised in London, my grandfather left her when she was six months pregnant and she’s lived here ever since.
‘So you were a showgirl in Vegas?’ Cameron asks. ‘You must have some stories.’
He seems to be falling for it completely, which makes me worry how gullible he actually is. I guess the story my nan is spinning is far removed from the boring, self-involved boasting fest that he’d normally be subjected to by his family. He seems mesmerised by Nan and her tall tales.
