The waitress arrives with our tea. Grandma adds milk and I add sugar, but neither of us takes a sip.
‘I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to your mother, Jessica. And however badly you think of me, I want you to know that I think that of myself. Please say you’ll forgive me.’
‘I forgive you, G,’ I say immediately.
And I realize that I really do. None of us are innocent in this whole disaster; we’ve all been absolute turds in one way or another. Mum wasted so much of her life being angry and resentful. I don’t want to do that. I can’t do that.
Grandma exhales steadily and picks up her teacup in still slightly shaking hands.
‘Peach tells me you’ve been wanting to go travelling. I’d like very much to pay for you to do that, Jessica. Where . . . where do you think you might like to go?’
I look at Grandma’s wrinkly face and I realize how much I’ve missed seeing her every day, how nice it’s been to have someone – however nuts – to care about what you’re doing, how used to it I’ve become. Hmmm. The idea of travelling alone to Jamaica or Thailand or anywhere else really far away doesn’t seem quite as urgent as it once did.
And then I laugh because suddenly I knowexactlywhere I want to go, and it surprises the fuck out of me.
‘I was thinking maybe . . . South London?’ I suggest, taking a gulp of tea. ‘I dunno, maybe somewhere like Dulwich.’
Grandma frowns for a second before she realizes what I’ve just said.
‘With . . . with me?’ She puts a hand to her chest. ‘You mean at my house?’
‘Yeah.’ I grin. ‘If you’ll have me, obviously.’
‘Oh, Jessica.’ She sobs out loud, which makes a few of the other diners turn to give us super-annoyed stares. ‘Iwillhave you!’
‘Oi, take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer!’ I shout over to the staring customers, which makes Grandma chuckle and turn pink.
She presses a palm to her cheek. ‘I can’t believe it! Say you’ll come back today, dear? I’ll have Peach prepare the spare room. Well, your room now!’ She looks over her shoulder and calls to the waitress at the cafe counter. ‘Cake, please! We simply must have cake to go with our tea!’
‘Cool.’ I laugh, calling over to the waitress to cut me a bigger slice. ‘I do have a few conditions, though.’
‘Go on?’
‘You have to promise me no more girdle-wearing, I go running whenever I want, we tell each other the truth from now on and . .. you never, ever, buy me a porcelain doll.’
Grandma holds her bony hand out in a flash. ‘Done.’
* * *
I get back to Jamie’s with a spring in my step. He’s thrilled to hear I’ve sorted things out with Grandma. In fact, he seems a little too thrilled.
‘Jeez, thanks a lot,’ I say when he eagerly offers to help me pack my stuff.
‘I’ve enjoyed having you here,’ he grins. ‘It’s just . . . you’re a little . . . messy.’
‘I’mcreative,’I protest. ‘There’s a difference, man.’
He lifts last night’s plate of half-eaten lasagne off the coffee table. ‘Yeah, very creative. I’m a medical professional. I have to think of the hygiene.’
I roll my eyes. Upstairs, I grab a black bin bag and start stuffing my clothes into it while Jamie doesn’t so much help as stand there watching. When I’m all done he calls me a taxi and we wait out on his doorstep for it to arrive.
‘Will we stay in touch?’ Jamie asks quietly, kicking at the pavement with the toe of his Converse.
‘We’d better do,’ I say, nudging him with my elbow.
He runs a hand through his curls. ‘Good.’ He nods. ‘Good.’
As the taxi pulls up at the curb, I yank Jamie in for a hug. ‘You’ve been brilliant to me,’ I whisper. ‘And I’ll never forget it.’
