I don’t argue further. I just want to go home and try to process what William has and hasn’t told me, so I let him lead me from the restaurant and put me in his car, not saying a word.
After stopping by a store and loading me up with the latest iPhone, William’s driver drops me home, accepting my request to stop around the corner so Nan doesn’t spot the strange car and me getting out of it.
‘Make sure you charge this up,’ he orders, putting the lid back on the box. ‘I have the number and I’ve stored mine.’
‘For what purpose?’ I ask, pissed off at his intrusion in my life.
‘Simple peace of mind.’ He hands me the box and nods to the door for me to get out. ‘I would tell you to send Josephine my kindest regards, but I doubt it would be appreciated.’
‘Without doubt.’ I slide from the car and turn to shut the door. The window lowers and I bend to get William back into my field of vision. His grey eyes are shining, his big body reclined, putting emphasis on his torso. He’s incredibly fit for a man in his mid-forties. ‘She would probably take a baseball bat to your posh car.’
He throws his head back on a laugh, making me smile a little. ‘I can just picture it. I’m sincerely glad she’s back to her old ways.’ He maintains his smile for a few moments before it slowly falls away, prompting mine to fall with it. ‘Just remember one thing, Olivia.’
I almost don’t want to ask what, and I don’t need to because he draws breath to go on, obviously seeing my hesitance. He’s going to tell me, whether I want to hear or not.
‘Your body instinctively knows danger. If you feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, a prickly sensation between your shoulder blades, or just overall bad vibes – you run.’ The window starts closing and William’s serious face disappears from sight, leaving me still bent on the pavement with the lingering effect of those cold words.
Chapter Five
Nan slides the plate towards me and hands me a fork. The giant lump of cake makes my stomach turn, but I resist pushing it away and break a corner off while she watches. Nan’s eyes are not the only set studying me so closely. Gregory has joined us for supper, along with George, and they are all quiet and watching me as I bring a small piece of cake to my lips. It tastes like rat poison, and it has nothing to do with my grandmother’s baking skills. Everything tastes rancid, my taste buds probably punishing me for neglecting them.
‘Beautiful.’ Gregory breaks the uncomfortable silence, performing a little finger-licking session. ‘You should open a cake shop.’
‘Pah!’ Nan scoffs. ‘Perhaps twenty years ago.’ She laughs, turning to the sink and running the tap. I’m thankful for the let-up of scrutiny.
George’s chubby finger delves straight onto the side of the cake plate, scooping off some stray lemon drizzle, and as if Nan has sensed something untoward is going down, she swings around from the sink.
‘George!’ She whips at him with her dishcloth. ‘Where are your manners?’
‘Sorry, Josephine.’ He sits up like a naughty schoolboy and places his hands in his lap, his face straight.
Gregory kicks me under the table, nodding at Nan, and I look to see her shaking her head at the old boy. We’re both suppressing our laughs, and then George winks cheekily at us and we both lose the battle to restrain ourselves. We titter together, earning a reproachful look from Nan before she turns back to the sink, and another wink from George.
‘Are you ready to help Nan rock the ballroom, George?’ I ask, reining in my chuckles before I get a thorough telling off. Old George is looking most dapper in a brown suit, although his mustard tie is questionable.
‘Josephine needs no help to rock anything,’ he replies, looking over to my nan’s back. ‘She does a damn fine job of rocking, as you call it, all by herself.’ Nan doesn’t respond or turn around, but she’s smiling down into the sink, I know she is.
‘She’s going to show you how to bump and grind,’ I snigger, kicking Gregory under the table but quickly hauling my leg back when Nan swings around from the washing up, making her lovely dress swoosh like it most certainly will be on the dance floor later. She glares at me as she dries her hands on her apron, her grey eyebrows raised.
‘You look beautiful, Nan,’ I say.
Her scornful face drops in an instant and she glances down on a smile. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’
‘Whatever is bumping and grinding?’ George asks, totally perplexed, looking to Nan. I’m delighting in the faint blush that rises in her cheeks.
‘It’s dancing, George.’ She flicks me a warning look, but it softens the moment she registers my mild grin. ‘I’ll teach you.’
I nearly fall off my chair when mental images of George and Nan getting down and dirty spring into my mind.
‘What’s so funny?’ George asks, throwing frowns around the kitchen. ‘I knew that.’ He huffs, plunging his finger back into the lemon cake in a strop. Nan doesn’t scorn him this time. She’s too busy howling across the kitchen.
‘I might wear my hot pants,’ she giggles, sending Gregory and me delirious with laughter.
‘Oh, those little short thingies?’ George’s eyes sparkle. ‘Yes, please!’
‘George!’ Nan shrieks.
‘Oh, please stop!’ Gregory grabs me for support, falling all over the place, taking me with him. We’re crying, shaking with hysterics. ‘Will they be sparkly?’
‘No, leather.’ She grins. ‘And crotchless.’