‘I’m in Nan’s room, so I don’t want to disturb her.’
‘She’s deaf as a post; she won’t be bothered.’
‘Dad,’ I chided. I got up and went outside the door so Nan wouldn’t hear. ‘Listen, I’ve been doing this art thing, about saying stuff you want to say before it’s too late.’ I paused. ‘I wrote to Max.’
Dad was quiet for a minute. Then he said: ‘I hope you didn’t apologise.’
Surprised, I said: ‘Well, I did a bit.’
‘The only person to blame for Max being in prison is Max,’ Dad said firmly.
‘You’re right,’ I agreed. ‘But I still felt bad. I thought everyone blamed me.’
‘Not at all,’ Dad said. ‘Though I do blame your mother a bit.’ I laughed. ‘Did he reply to your letter?’
‘He won’t have got it yet,’ I said. ‘But the funny thing is, he wrote to me, here at the same time. He wrote to Nan and me.’
Dad rolled his eyes. ‘And did he apologise to you?’
‘He did.’
He nodded. ‘Good lad.’
Feeling calmer than I had since Max went, I said: ‘Do you want to speak to Nan? I know you’ve not always had the best relationship, but I’m learning how important it is to say what you want to say. Before it’s too late.’
‘You’re right,’ Dad said. He sounded surprisingly choked up. ‘I suppose I should have a quick word.’
‘She might not know you,’ I warned.
Dad nodded. ‘I understand.’
I went back into Nan’s room and held the phone up so she could see. She looked at the screen, but she didn’t react, until Dad spoke.
‘Hello, Mum,’ he said.
Nan frowned. ‘My Geoff’s got himself a girlfriend. Proper sort, she is. Legs up to her armpits. Flaky as a bloody steak pie. Don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.’
‘Nan!’ I exclaimed, shocked at her description of my mother. But Dad laughed.
‘I should have listened to you, Mum. Saved myself the bother.’
‘He’s a good boy, my Geoff,’ said Nan. She squinted at the screen. ‘He looks like you. But younger.’
Dad chuckled. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll call again next week, eh?’
‘Waste of bloody space,’ Nan muttered.
‘Stevie, can we speak outside again?’ Dad said. I took the phone away from Nan’s face and went back to the doorway. Dad sighed. ‘You’re a good girl, looking out for her like you do. She loves you to pieces – you know that. You and your brother.’
‘Yes,’ I said, honestly. ‘I do know that.’ I ended the call, feeling teary, and went back inside to sit with Nan.
*
‘Oh, honey, I’m so pleased Max wrote to you,’ Tara said the next day.
I smiled. ‘I owe Elsie one,’ I said. ‘I wrote to Max, and he wrote to me – though that was coincidence I suppose, I can’t really give Elsie credit for that. And Dad spoke to Nan, and she said some funny stuff about my mum, and she said she lovedus. And my dad even said I was good for looking out for Nan and he was grateful.’
‘Well, who’d have thunk it,’ Tara said. ‘Everyone’s saying things they should have said years ago.’
