Page 72 of Great Sexpectations
‘What did it say?’
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his phone.
‘Cameron, this is Josie’s nan. Can you do me a favour and go check in on Josie. The sad case is all alone for New Year’s – she’s housesitting my flat. Make sure the cow doesn’t eat my fudge… And then she gave me her address,’ he repeats, showing me the message.
I don’t want to think how Nan got Cameron’s contact details, but this is a conspiracy and, in revenge, I will eat all her fudge, take pictures of myself scoffing it and send them to her.
‘Look, if you wanted to be alone, I get it. This feels like an ambush. Since I showed up on Christmas Day, I haven’t really heard from you. I don’t know if you’re angry with me…’
I shake my head. I have given him a wide berth, but that was mostly down to the drama with my own parents. ‘I’m not angry with you at all. I was just busy. And I’m not really dressed for visitors,’ I whisper.
‘So basically, I wore my Jon Snow T-shirt and miniskirt for nothing?’ he jokes.
I laugh and the feeling is a relief. As hard as Nan has tried, she’s not managed to get anything out of me since Christmas, bar grunting and tears. She called me the worst housemate she’s had since Dad was a toddler and used to eat her make-up.
‘I bought some beers. As long as you don’t mind sharing your takeaway with me?’ Cameron says, holding them up.
‘You didn’t have plans yourself?’
‘TV and Super Noodles?’
I open the door and he steps inside, hugging me awkwardly as a takeaway bag gets in the way. I hold on for longer than needs be. I think I’ve missed you, I’ve definitely missed you.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘I look a state. Don’t look at me.’
‘Shush now. So your nan has gone on a jolly-up, has she?’ Cameron asks, wandering through the flat.
‘Yeah, it’s her thing,’ I say, scurrying beside him. ‘She saves up all year.’ Next to my sad potato look, I am also conscious that there is some shame in how I’ve let this place go since my grandmother left me. Even though I told Nan I’d be fine, I’ve been living off takeaways and stashes from the corner shop. Cameron is going to find out I have a serious addiction to chocolate-covered pretzels that could be deemed as embarrassing, and I also eat peanut butter out of a jar with a spoon. I run around trying to pick up packets and hide the mess with cushions.
‘And I thought I slobbed it about in the week after Christmas,’ he chuckles, clearing a spot on the coffee table. ‘Don’t fret. Here, grab some cutlery, plates.’
I step into the kitchen, realising it’s best he doesn’t step in here too as there’s evidence that I ate a whole family tin of biscuits and drank a whole bottle of Baileys by myself. I open the cupboards to grab at glasses, napkins, and think that this might be the best moment, in the quiet and by the fragrant backdrop of a takeaway, to finally explain what is happening. We won’t be having sex because I haven’t shaved my legs for a week and am wearing some embarrassingly old pink knickers with a rainbow waistband. But there is no distraction here. Now I can say something and it will mend everything. It will go some way to fixing things with my parents, to making all of this right. It’s not too late to make things right.
As I return to the living room, Cameron is standing by the window of the flat. ‘Are you kidding me? What a view,’ he says, and I smile to see the beanie and coat are off. ‘Has she lived here long?’
‘My dad was literally raised in that bedroom,’ I say, pointing towards the corridor along the way.
‘After she came back from America.’
I stop for a moment. Oh yes… Showgirl Nan. Truth was, she was living here with a man called Raymond and he left her here when she was pregnant. Never saw him again except in a local pub three years later where she tipped a full ashtray over his head.
‘In other news, I think there are some things to discuss?’ he says solemnly.
I take a deep breath. Now? I thought we could at least break into the poppadoms first.
‘Like, how much food is in here? Were you expecting company? This feels like enough for a family of four?’
I blush as I realise I went overboard, hoping the food would at least last me into tomorrow so I wouldn’t have to leave the flat. It means I ordered an embarrassingly large number of samosas.
‘I like leftovers,’ I say, shrugging.
‘Well then, I feel less guilty for helping you out here.’ He opens some of the foil containers and starts sharing out the food.
I take a quick glance in the mirror in Nan’s living room, trying to sort out the state of my hair, running a tongue along my lips so they look less dry. The one thing that would help is if I turned off all the lights.
‘So tell me, did you get to see your family this Christmas or did chickenpox draw a line under that?’ I ask.
