‘I was never comfortable with you lying to him about who you were. Lies like that are not good.’
‘She says! You were the one who told him you were a showgirl!’ I exclaim.
‘Because it was funny,’ she says, trying to defend herself. ‘Lying’s never the way, though.’
‘But maybe we lie for a number of reasons. Dad never told you he was in porn, for example.’
Sonny’s head perks up at this point. ‘Yeah, Josie told me this story. How the hell did you believe he was a plumber the whole time?’ He laughs and Nan kicks him with her slippers.
‘I just thought he was earning good money. Plumbing and porn, that’s where the money’s at apparently.’
‘You never had your suspicions?’ I ask her, huddling in to listen, a feeling of nostalgia to be sitting here taking in her stories. We used to do this all the time over a big tub of broken biscuits. We’d tuck in by this same storage heater and listen intently to her tales about living in this big city on her own.
‘Oh, he was a good-looking lad. I thought he was getting lots of action, popular with the birds. You don’t question these things.’
‘So, what did you do when you found out?’ Sonny asks.
She pauses for a moment to try to recollect the emotion. ‘You know what hurt me the most is that he had no pride in it. There was shame, guilt attached to it. And that’s not right, you know? These things go full circle, don’t they? Back in my day, I was a single mum and there was stigma attached to that. That I’d failed or not done right. Back then, people pointed their fingers and spoke about you in whispers for all sorts. Your sexuality, the colour of your skin. You hid away because it wasn’t the norm and for that you lose all sense of pride in yourself, in who you are. That’s an awful way to live.’
I know her words are directed at me and I know she’s right.
‘And I will always be proud of what your dad went on to do, I love your mum like my own. And not because they did well, you know? Because they’re good sorts. And you two make me proud as bloody punch. I’ll never stop talking about you two. I don’t just let any old reprobates into my house at midnight and put on the kettle.’
I put an arm around her shoulder when she says that. I know she talks about us to everyone. I know because the neighbours, the man in the local corner shop and the drug dealers in the stairwell seem to know me by name. She even keeps a dodgy school photo of Sonny and I on her mantlepiece, straight out of our awkward teen years, Sonny with braces, me with a constellation of acne, standing proud in its brown faux-leather frame.
‘Have you always been single, though, Nan?’ Sonny asks. ‘After Grandad left?’
‘He’s not your grandfather. He never earned that right,’ she says, scolding him. ‘You can call him Dick Features.’
We won’t, but that’s good to know that he has an official name.
‘Oh, I dated all sorts. I tried, but when you’re a single parent, it’s hard. Your kid becomes the priority.’
I think of Cameron as she says that and look down to my lap.
‘I dated some bloke who used to play jazz trumpet. Huge mouth, that one. You know that butcher’s on the high street? I dated one of their sons once.’
‘What was his meat like?’ Sonny asks.
Nan kicks him quite hard. If he does have any frostbite, then that kick may have taken his toes off. I’ve always remembered Nan as single, not recalling any gentleman callers or companions, but I’ve never seen it get to her, I’ve never heard her say the word lonely. I do wonder if she was scarred by the man who was our grandfather or whether she just preferred it that way.
‘There’s a man at the bingo I quite like, I think he’s sweet on me. His name is Wesley. I don’t like his walk, though.’
‘How can you not like someone’s walk?’ I ask curiously.
‘He’s bloody slow. I can’t deal with dawdling walkers.’
‘Do you want to bring him to the wedding as your plus-one?’ Sonny asks her.
‘No way. He’ll get ideas. Plus, we need to talk about weddings. What’s this about me having to wear black? I’ll look like Queen Victoria in mourning.’
‘It’s Ruby’s vision. Just go with it.’
‘And that red tracksuit? I’m expected to wear that too?’ she asks.
I nod. If I have to, then you have to. We can be ridiculous-looking twinsies together.
‘Well, then, I want front-row action for the ceremony, any further back and I’ll make a fuss.’
