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“No.” I’m beginning to see where Jonathan gets his sarcastic streak. “He’s a delivery lad from up the road. Twenty-six and goes like a stevedore.”
“You’re not helping, Nana.”
I look up at Jonathan. “To be fair, neither are you.”
“Whose side are you on?”
Nana Pauline smiles at me. “You know, I think I like him. You can keep this one.”
“This one?” I ask.
“It’s just what she calls all my boyfriends,” Jonathan explains.
I’m still not completely used to hearing him say it, and it’s… I like it. I think.
Nana Pauline adjusts one of her cardigans condemningly. “You are a dirty liar, Jonathan Forest.”
The dirtiness or otherwise of Jonathan’s lying aside, I’d been starting to feel we were getting somewhere. “So does Ralph not have his own family to go to?”
“Hah.” Nana Pauline doesn’t laugh exactly. She more justsays“hah”. “You think people that leave their old parents in a place like this—”
“Like this luxury assisted living facility in a converted manor house?” I clarify. “Situated in its own grounds but conveniently close to the bustling heart of Sheffield?”
“In a place like this,” she repeats, “languishinglike we are, you think they come and bring their relatives back to their place for the holidays?”
I pass a look between the other two. “Well, Jonathan does.”
Which seems to put Nana Pauline in the impossible position of having to either back down or admit that Jonathan is better than other grandsons. “And Ralph’s family don’t. So he’s stuck here, so I’m staying with him.”
“He’d be welcome to join us.” For a moment, I can’t believe it’s Jonathan talking. Like I know we’ve shagged and that changes things, but I didn’t think my cock was the Ghost of Christmas Past. Then again, I suppose he’d been getting less uptight for a while.
“He’d be what?” asks Nana Pauline, sounding like she can’t believe it either.
“Welcome to join us,” Jonathan repeats. And it’s not lost on me that he sounds a bit less certain this time.
Nana Pauline smiles. “I’ll go tell him.”
She starts to get up again very, very slowly, and this time I come forward to help her.
It doesn’t go well. “Don’t you mollycoddle me, young man,” she snaps, “I can manage.”
And she does. Eventually.
CHAPTER 30
I can see why jonathan wanted to start early because once Nana Pauline has gone to tell Ralph the good news, she makes her way back up to her room to get her bags, then back down, then back up because she’s forgot her coat, all without letting anybody go for her or carry anything, and that winds up being rather time consuming.
Ralph seems a nice enough feller. He calls himselfthe toy boyon account of how he’s a good ten years younger than Nana Pauline, though that still puts him in his seventies. He’s also only wearing one cardigan, which I’m glad of else I’d have started feeling underdressed, and I’m able to have a bit of a chat with him while we’re waiting for Nana Pauline to get her things together. He managed a carpet warehouse in Rotherham for thirty years and it’s left him with a deep reserve of amusing anecdotes about twist pile Fairfords.
Once everyone’s ready we set off back to Jonathan’s car, doing our best to enjoy the day because though it was only about fifteen minutes heading down, heading back with two older people in tow, neither of whom would hear of the possibility of us going ahead then coming back to pick them up, takes a little longer.
“Eeh, it’s a lovely part of town this,” Ralph observes as we wander back towards the centre. “Nothing fancy like, but we don’t need anything fancy, do we Pauline?”
“We do not,” Pauline agrees.
“None of that London nonsense,” he continues.
“Nonsense,” echoes Pauline. “You should be grateful we’re coming, Jonathan. All that way, down toLondon. I ask you, who needs it?”
