‘Shut up!’ I hiss, the mention of my mother spiking too much venom that’s evident in my tone.
‘I’m sorry, but what is it about this cocksucker that’s turned you into an irresponsible, reckless twat?’
‘You’re the only cocksucker I know,’ I accuse quietly, because I’m at a loss at what else to say. I have been pretty reckless, just like my moth— ‘And he’s not a criminal or a murderer. He’s a gentleman.’ Sometimes, I add to myself.
‘What happened? Tell me.’
‘He worshipped me,’ I confess. He’ll nag me stupid, so I may as well come clean. It’s done now. No going back.
‘“Worshipped”?’ Gregory’s voice is barely a whisper, and I see him in my mind’s eye halting whatever he may be doing on the other end of the phone.
‘Yes, he’s ruined it for all those who will come after.’ He really has. Nothing will compare. No man will match his skill, attentiveness and passion. I’m totally buggered.
‘Oh Lord.’ He’s still whispering. ‘That good?’
‘Blissful, Gregory. I feel cheated. While he promised twenty-four hours, I only got eight. I annoyingly want the re—’
‘Whoa! Rewind! Re-fucking-wind!’ he yells, making me jump in my bed. ‘Back the f**k up! What’s this about twenty-four hours? Twenty-four hours for what?’
‘To worship me.’ I turn onto my side, transferring my phone to the other ear. ‘He offered me that time because it’s all he could.’ I cannot believe that I’m divulging all of this information to Gregory. This has to get the gold, especially given that it’s me who we’re juicing it up about.
‘I don’t even know what to say.’ I can see the shock on his face when I close my eyes. ‘I need to see you. I’m on my way.’
‘No, no!’ I sit up urgently. ‘Nan doesn’t know I’m here. I snuck back in.’
Gregory laughs. ‘Baby girl, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your nan knows exactly where you are.’
‘How?’
‘Because she’s the one who called me to say you were home.’ There’s a degree of smugness in his tone.
I look to the heavens for strength. I should’ve bloody known. ‘Then why did you pick my brain about where I am?’
‘Because I wanted to see if my soulmate had developed a habit of lying, as well as being a dumb-arse. I’m glad to have it confirmed that you’re only the latter. I’m on my way.’ He hangs up, and as soon as I drop my phone to the bed, I hear the familiar sound of creaking floorboards, so I hastily crawl under the covers and hold my breath.
The door opens, but I remain like a statue, out of view, eyes clenched shut and holding my breath – not that I expect it to deter her. I bet she’s dying to get the scoop, the nosy old bat.
There’s total silence, but I know she’s there, and then I feel a light brushing tickle on the sole of my foot and my leg lashes out on an uncontrolled burst of laughter. ‘Nan!’ I shout, throwing the quilt back and finding her plump body at the bottom of my bed, arms crossed, and with a dirty smirk on her old face. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ I warn.
‘Your boss, my arse!’
‘He was.’
She scoffs and comes to sit on the edge of the bed, putting me on high alert. ‘Why are you telling me porky pies?’ she asks.
‘I’m not.’ My response is feeble and my eyes, diverted from hers, are a sign of my guilt.
‘Livy, give your grandmother a break.’ She slaps my thigh over the quilt. ‘I might be an old lady, but my eyes and ears work just fine.’
I chance a reluctant glance at her, seeing a grin being held back. I’ll make her day if I confirm what she already knows. ‘Yes, and so does your nosy mind.’
‘I’m not nosy!’ she argues. ‘I’m just being . . . a concerned grandmother.’
I scoff and tug the quilt from under her bum, wrapping it around myself and escaping to the bathroom. ‘You’ve nothing to be concerned about.’
‘I think I have when my sweet granddaughter lives like a recluse, and then suddenly stays out until dawn.’
I cringe, quickening my pace as she follows me across the landing. My work excuse won’t wash now, so I hold my tongue and make quick work of shutting the bathroom door behind me, just catching a glimpse of her grey eyebrows arched and her thin lips curved.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’ she calls through the door.
I turn the shower on and drop my quilt. ‘No.’
‘Was he your boyfriend?’
‘No!’
‘Are you courting him?’
‘What?’
‘Dating. It means dating, dear.’
‘No!’
‘Just having sex, then.’
‘Nan!’ I yell, flashing the door an incredulous look.
‘Just asking.’
‘Well, don’t!’ I step into the bath and under the hot spray, thankful for the hot water, but not for the flashbacks of my last shower. He’s invading every corner of my brain, except the little part which is currently being reserved to answer Nan’s unreasonable questions. I squeeze some shampoo into my palms and set about lathering up my hair, hoping I’ll physically scrub the memories away as I do.