Page 35 of One More Shot
But Nan’s house is different.
You can’t take two steps in Nan’s house without seeing some memory of my childhood. Her walls are filled with photos of us, documenting every single awkward phase of our lives. There’s even one of me and Sasha at our graduation, beaming at the camera as we toss our hats into the air.
It really wouldn’t take much for us to clear out the spare room for me if Nan really needed the help.
It would just be like coming home again.
I could do it, and I will if she needs me to. There’s no question about it. I just wish she’d asked first.
I wish anyone would ask first.
‘Eliott, do you might lending Leanne some money?’
‘Is it cool if Wes moves in?’
‘How do you feel about helping Nan out a little more?’
Would it really be so hard for them to ask and not just assume that my answer will always be a yes?
A familiar wave of irritation threatens to drown me as I shoulder open Nan’s front door.
‘Oh hello, love.’ Mum pokes her head out of the living room and gives me a wave. ‘We were wondering where you’d got to.’
She disappears back inside the living room and I hear the faint sound of laughter and music coming from the TV. I frown as I stomp further into the house, letting the front door slam behind me.
‘What’re you doing here?’ I ask as I unceremoniously drop the shopping bags to the floor.
Mum is sitting on Nan’s sofa, a cosy-looking blanket draped over her lower half and a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her. On the other side of the room, Nan is settled in her favourite armchair and one of her legs is propped up on a footstool. She gives me a smile, but it looks strained. She shifts in her seat and I swear the movement makes her wince slightly.
Panic begins to trickle through me. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Mum says flippantly. ‘Did you get the biscuits I asked for?’ She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, she leaps up from her seat and starts rifling through the shopping bags. ‘Oh, Eliott, you are astar.’
‘I thought they were for Nan,’ I grumble. ‘And if you’ve been here all along, why couldn’tyoudo the shopping?’
‘You were on the way,’ Mum says, with a dismissive wave of the hand.
‘I wasn’t though,’ I mutter, but it falls on deaf ears. Because what does it matter that I was actually working on some edits when Nan messaged to ask if I wouldn’t mind pickingup a few things for her? At least, Ithoughtthey’d been for Nan. Mum grabs a few more items from the shopping bags and sets them aside for herself and I realise that I’ve been played.
But I’ve got more pressing issues right now. Namely, the fact that the wince on Nan’s face has definitely become more pronounced.
‘Nan?’ I ask. ‘What’s wrong?’
She sighs and nods to her leg. ‘I’mfine. I was putting the laundry out and I tripped on the patio. I’m a little bruised, but nothing to worry about.’
A flicker of recognition sparks in me. Nan’s patio is nothing short of a death trap. It was Grandad’s passion project before he passed. He kept insisting that he’d get round to fixing it up and but he never did.
Five years on and it’s never been worse.
Large pieces of the stone tiles are broken or coming loose, making it a game of Russian roulette whenever you step onto one. Even I’ve twisted my ankle on one of the wobbly tiles more than once. The idea of Nan having to cross it in order to get to her lawn has always made me nervous. Like she’s just one ill-placed step away from doing some serious damage.
I glance at her leg. There are no open wounds or any bones jutting out at awkward angles, so I have to trust that she’s telling the truth, and it is just a bruise.
‘I thought Josh was supposed to get someone in to fix it?’ I ask.
Nan rolls her eyes.
‘Right,’ I say. Stupid question. I don’t know why I even left it in Josh’s hands to deal with in the first place. Wishful thinking, I guess.
