Page 19 of Not Strictly Ballroom

I choke back the lump that forms in my throat from his words, and reply. “Thanks, Dad.” He nods again and tells me to, “Hurry up or that paint’ll dry in the tray before you get a chance to put it on the wall.”

He’s typical of his breed—the silent Yorkshireman. But he doesn’t lie, so I believe him when he says that it’s okay. I didn’t expect a hug, but an admission of acceptance? That’s something. I’ll work on asking Darcy round, which excites me and keeps me entertained for the rest of the day.

I’m too tired to do much after work, but after showering and having had tea, I decide to sit with Gran for a while. I’ll help her up to bed later, as well.

“Is that you Nicholas?” She calls out from the front room as I open the back door. I chuckle. She’s the only person who calls me by my “Sunday” name, and she’s the only person who I allow it from, not that it would make any difference if I asked her not to.

“Yes, it’s me, Gran,” I answer.

“Well, put the kettle on, on your way through.” I laugh, as I’m already at the sink, filling it up. If I know anything about my gran, it’s that she can’t go half an hour without a cup of tea. I flick the switch, and leave it to do its thing while I go through to the other room. It’s dark, so I turn the light switch on.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” I ask, as I head over to the chair where she’s sitting and peck a quick kiss on her check, something else she’ll not let me get away with not doing. I’d rebelled once as a teenager, and received a very curt reply that she’d lost the only person who’d given her kisses far too early and I would have to do. I never missed it after that because she did lose Grandpa early. I can barely remember him; I must have only been about five or so.

“I couldn’t be bothered to get up to switch the light on,” she replies, and I feel sad that this was the case.

“Is your hip playing up again?” I ask, knowing that it’s sometimes painful for her.

“I’m not getting any younger, dear.”

“I know, Gran, but sitting here in the dark . . .”

“I can still see the television,” she protests. It’s true, the television is almost always on.

“What are you watching this time?”

“Vera. I like this series.”

I laugh. What is it about old ladies and murder? She used to read all the stories when her eyesight was still good enough. She was always reading or watching Agatha Christie and, as I spent a lot of time with her, I got to watch them, too. I can still recall most of the plots now.

I hear the kettle boil, and go through to make up a teapot. That was another thing Gran’s a stickler for: tea in a teapot, a china one, and always in a china cup. I’m quite happy with a mug anywhere else, but my gran refuses to have them in the house, claiming that tea never tastes good in anything other than china.

Setting the tray down on the low table, I pour her a cup. I’d brought a few biscuits from the tin as well. Otherwise, she’d only be sending me back for them.

“So how are you? Work busy?” Gran opens with. But I know her better than that.

“You know it is, Gran.” My mum will have been round earlier and told her all about the job we were currently working on. “What is it you really want to know?”

She has a twinkle in her eye. “How did it work out with you and your young friend?”

I knew that’s what she was really after. She’s the biggest gossip and I know where my mum learned all her tricks from. I just need to decide how much I’m going to tell her.

“Well, you were kind of right.” She gives me a knowing smile and I let her have that point. “I did tell him how I felt.”

“And?” she prompts. “You’re not moping around here like a lovesick puppy anymore, so I guess it went alright.”

“Gran! I was not a lovesick puppy,” I exclaim, possibly more shocked than anything else.

“Were too.” She takes a sip of tea and smiles at me over the rim of her cup. I’m not rising to her bait. She got me too many times with that trick as a kid. I shake my head at her as I take a long gulp of my tea. I’m going to make her wait. I make a deliberate show of picking up my cup and then, after I’ve drunk, putting it slowly back down again.

“I taught you too well,” she sighs eventually, and I can’t help but grin at her. She’s the best and I love her.

“Well, I think it went well, really well, Gran.” I eventually put her out of her misery. “He admitted he liked me, too.” I don’t dwell over the thought that he may have been into me for a long time. That was in both our pasts and not something we can do anything about now.

“So, did you kiss him?”

“Grandma!” This time I give her a full title. “Wash your mouth out, this instant,” I tease, and see her giggle.

“Spoilsport,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. And I mimic her, mouthing her tried-and-tested saying, “I was young once; I’ve seen it all.” I very much doubt she’s seen everything I’ve done before, but I’m not going to test that theory by bringing up those sorts of activities.

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