Love, apologies, and mega best-of-luck wishes with your artwork,
Jess.
X
P.S. If your grumpy upstairs neighbour tells you there was a creepy lass blaring ‘In Your Eyes’ outside your house, that was me. Sorry.
P.P.S. I’m not at Bonham Square any more, so if you do, by any chance, want to get in touch with me, my email is[emailprotected]
* * *
The novelty of being at Jamie’s house with nothing to do but Rick Roll Summer and think about Leo, while barely getting any sleep because of his roommates’ sex noises, soon wears off. And when Peach invites me out for lunch one sunny Tuesday, I fall on her invitation as if she’s just offered up a naked and ready-for-action James McAvoy .
I travel to Le Petit Cafe in Kensington and wait for her to arrive. It feels weird not having seen Peach every day, and I find myself genuinely excited to catch up with her.
So imagine my shock when it’s not Peach who walks through the cafe door, but Grandma. She glides in, tall and graceful in her dusky pink suit, her hair tied back in a chignon, her huge red glasses propped neatly on her nose.
Fucking Peach. She’s completely set me up! And to think I was just having such lovely thoughts about her.
I grumpily stand up from the table and gather my things to leave.
‘Please stay, Jessica,’ Grandma asks, her voice cracking. Sighing, I sit back down. As she joins me at the small wooden table, I get a waft of her Chanel No. 5 and my eyes instantly fill with tears. I wipe them away fiercely.
I miss my Grandma.
But I’m so mad at her too.
‘I’ve moving out of Bonham Square,’ she informs me, discreetly signalling over to the waitress.
‘I know. Peach told me.’
‘I’mdownsizing.To an end-of-terrace in Dulwich.’ The waitress comes over and takes our order for tea. ‘It’s not quite Bonham Square, but it’s bright and spacious and in rather a nice area.’
‘Good. That’s good.’
‘I wanted to see you,’ she says, ‘to give you this.’
She takes a crisp white envelope out of her purse and hands it over.
Frowning, I open it up.
It’s a cheque made out to the Mental Health Foundation. There are rather a lot of zeros on the end of the hand-scrawled number. I gasp.
‘Woah.’
‘I was wrong to ask you to get involved with the project.’ Grandma sighs heavily. ‘I should have known it was not your job to fix my problems. I thought that my house was the only thing I had left in the world. And by trying to save it, I lost what was most important to me . . . and that’syou. Downsizing has left me plenty to spare. I thought that perhaps we could donate this in honour of Rose.’
She sobs slightly as she says my mum’s name.
‘I’d like that,’ I nod quickly, the words catching in my throat. I swallow my own sob down. ‘Thank you.’
Grandma takes a cotton hanky out of her handbag and dabs at her eyes with trembling hands.
‘You haven’t lost me, you know,’ I say eventually. ‘I’m just really, really pissed off at you.’
She opens her mouth instinctively, ready to tell me off for swearing, and then closes it just as quickly.
‘I’m so sorry I . . .pissed you off.’ She reaches over and takes hold of my hand. ‘I’ve been very selfish. So consumed with self-pity and grief. I couldn’t bear for you to see me the same way as your mother did. I thought, when you came through my door, that I had been given a second chance. And then I ruined it by involving you in my troubles.’
