A Grand Day Out
By
Skinnie Stallion
1. Beginnings
Josh liked to think it started last Christmas but in truth it had begun much earlier. That time he’d gone to stay at hers was when things started to change. It had been silly to take one his magazines with him but he couldn’t very well leave it at home, not if Mum or Dad might find it while they were decorating his room.
He’d always known that Gran was a bit different. She didn’t dress like ladies her age. She didn’t even dress like ladies much younger than her. His Mum used to shrug her shoulders when he asked. She just talked about punk and rebellion and said, rather disapprovingly he thought, that her mother-in-law had never really grown up or settled down. Josh saw a bit of a streak of Gran in his Dad. He liked motorbikes too and played metal when he was in the car.
Gran had found his magazine. He liked to think that there wasn’t anything wrong but it wasn't exactly usual for a someone his age to have a copy of VOGUE hidden at the bottom of his holdall. And it was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He might have felt a thrill at getting two magazines for the price of one as he snuck out of the newsagents with VOGUE hidden beneath his latest LEGO Magazine but all he felt now was guilt. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, although it would have made a big dent in his pocket money, he just felt too embarrassed to buy it. He also didn’t want Mr Patel asking questions or letting drop to his Mum that he’d been buying a woman’s magazine.
He tried to defend himself when his Gran asked him to sit with her to explain: “I'm sorry Grandma,” he said. “I just....I like looking at the pictures. The way they dress and ...make up and stuff. It's not one of those horrid magazines I promise,” he protested. It was weak, he knew.
But his Gran was imperturbable. “I know darling, I know. It's ok really it is. I promise I won't tell anyone. I just want you to know that if ever you want to do more than just look, come to your Grandma. Because she loves you very much.”
He didn't quite know what to say or what she meant. He was simply grateful for the hug she gave him, the kiss on his hair, and the confidence that she wasn’t going to say anything to his parents. “Thanks, Gran.”
“It’s only VOGUE, after all,” she said, “but I’m guessing Marion doesn’t know you bought it.” He nodded, still unable to tell her his other secret. “I’ll tell you what: you can leave your copy here.”
“Thanks, Gran,” he repeated, relieved but sad to be losing that edition with its pictures of Cara Delevinge and Kendall Jenner.
“But I’ll get a subscription for myself. When you come over you can read my copies, or we can read them together. Won't that be nice? You could start a scrapbook if you want to cut out any pictures you like. You can keep it here. It’ll be our secret.” She gave him a little wink.
“Oh Gran, that would be magic.”
“Look, while we’re upstairs, why don't you have a look in my closets. It may not be the height of fashion like Vogue but you may find some clothes that interest you.”
“Are you sure that would be OK, Gran?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be suggesting if it wasn’t OK. I knows it’s all probably a bit fuddy-duddy..…. “
“Gran, it’s not fuddy-duddy to be wearing Bergman and Knightley.”
“Bergman and Knightley? How do you know I wear Bergman and Knightley.”
“Because they’re in so many ads, even in Mum’s mags. And you look amazing ….,” he added unguardedly, his voice trailing away as he realised what he’d just said.
“Thank you, dear. You’re very kind. I do like shopping at Bergmans. They really cater for my tastes, and I guess for those of quite a few young men. You obviously like the look.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. “Er…..,” he stumbled.
“Mmmm. I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’. Look, you can take out stuff out if you’d like a closer look. I’m sure they’ll be too big for you, but if you’d like to try them on one day…..”
“Oh…. Er……,“ he was lost for words. “Er… , thanks Gran.”
“…… and when you’re done, my motorbike leathers are hung up in the Utility Room. They could do with a clean and a polish after my last ride with the ladies. Would you do them for me? I’ll give you some pocket money if you get them nice and shiny.”
“Sure thing, Gran. That would be great. Love you, Gran.”
“Yes, dear. I love you too.”
Over the years, that little had acorn began to sprout. Helping with his scrapbook and cleaning her leathers, progressed quite naturally to letting him clean her bedroom and arrange her closet. She let him linger by himself in her bedroom. She knew how much he valued a little ‘me time’. The extra pocket money came in handy too. She’d even take him on some of her shopping trips. A new world was opening up.
2. Ringing in the New
Vanessa had been waiting to get him alone all evening. It hadn’t been easy. It was natural that he’d be in demand. She’d hit the prosecco in frustration about the lack of opportunities. She wanted to wish him a happy New Year and kick-off his birthday celebrations. Now, in the kitchen, her moment had arrived.
Until this evening she’d felt a bit sorry for him being born on the first. It seemed such a bummer: his birthday always tended to be overshadowed by New Year’s Eve celebrations. She was wanted to make an exception this evening. Turning eighteen ought to be a special moment, and she was determined that this birthday and this New Year’s Eve were going to be extra-special.
She had to accept that he was growing up and would be off to university at the end of the summer. There’d be much fewer opportunities to come and stay with her. It might be now or never. And she had a mission to accomplish.
As midnight approached, she followed him through to the kitchen as he went to fetch more ice. She lingered while other guests went back to the lounge to await the chimes. She was glad not to be joining them. Soon they’d be linking arms and singing that bloody dirge. She hated that song. Another year gone by. Another year she wouldn't get back. All she could do was make the most of the ones she had and spend them with the ones she loved. And she loved this one. She’d stood by him and kept his little secrets. Strictly ‘entre nous’, she’d said. He’d appreciated that. Her special boy.
There were calls from the lounge that she ignored as the Westminster Quarters began ringing for the last time that year. She blocked his way as he turned from the icemaker. Maybe it was her scent or her breathing but he’d already sensed her behind him. As she closed on him, he took the initiative, extended his arm and pulled her close. She almost melted in his arms but he was her grandson. They both understood the game they were playing. She’d never felt prouder of him. Almost a man. But not quite. At least not quite yet. And not if he didn't want to be.
The Great Bell of Big Ben struck. With each clang she planted a little kiss: his hair, his forehead, his ears, his nose, his chin, his cheeks On the twelfth, the prosecco took hold and she kissed him full on the lips. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” she slurred. “Now I know you are my grandson and all that and I love you so very much, but I am afraid this drunken old granny has a very special year planned for you. And I don’t just mean you going to University. Happy birthday, darling. Hic!” The prosecco repeated on her. “Eighteen. Who’d have thought it? I’ll give you your present tomorrow. It’ll be just between the two of us. OK? Hic!”
“Yes, Gran. Of course, Gran.” He wasn’t sure what to do but her puckered lips were too tempting.
“Remember, tomorrow morning,” repeated Vanessa as she pulled away. “Hic!”
3. New Year, New Day
The house was still quiet when Josh sat down with Vanessa. He wasn’t getting the chance to stay with her over Christmas so some private time together was the next best thing. Neither mentioned their midnight kisses. They brushed them off as just New Year’s Eve exuberance. Both knew that there was something more. It was all part of their secret understanding.
Vanessa waited for Josh to settle on the sofa beside her. She wasn’t holding a card or a present. All he could see was what looked like a magazine in her hands. “For your birthday,” she said as she handed it to him. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not returning your copy of VOGUE,” she grinned.
Josh flinched. She remembered. She still remembered that first time: her first inkling of his interests. That was another time he’d settled on a sofa beside her. She’d not been surprised back then. Perhaps it was something that ran in his family. One day he might pluck up the courage to ask his Dad. But not now. Not yet.
When he could take his eyes off her, he looked more closely at her ‘gift’. It wasn’t a magazine, it was the Bergman and Knightley catalogue. Her thumb was inserted at a particular page leaving it open at a section headed Fem‑Me. Vanessa pointed at one of the options. She gave him a chance to read. “Yes?” she enquired with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical smile.
“Yes, please Grandma,” he replied scarcely able to contain his excitement. “Oh God, yes. A thousand times yes.” There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He handed the catalogue back to her.
“When you’re ready, hun,” was all she said as stood up. “The summer maybe, when you’ve got time after exams?”
“Sure thing, Gran. Sure thing. And thanks again, Gran,” he said as his father shuffled in wearing a dressing gown and looking bleary eyed.
“Thanks for what?” asked his Dad.
“Oh nothing, Richard. Josh and I were just having a chat about what he might want for his birthday.” Vanessa lowered the catalogue out of the line of sight. “And I was telling him about the next bike I’m planning to get. I’m thinking about a Norton Commando like the one you’ve got.”
“Really Mum!” exclaimed his Dad. “Won’t you ever grow up? Anyone like a coffee? I’m making a pot,” he said as he traipsed towards the kitchen. “Boy, do I need it.”
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