The trouble with your parents finding out that you’re in close ties with someone of the opposite sex is that their thoughts are purely romantic. Camilla hasn’t stopped asking when Maya is coming round. I keep explaining to her that we’re just friends and still in a very early phase. But she doesn’t seem to grasp that concept and compares it to dating in the 90s. ‘I don’t understand you lot. To me you’re either in a relationship, or you’re not.’

Camilla only married Nick to hide her pregnancy from my very traditional Grandma. I don’t think she even kissed Grandad till they were wedded. Imagine your first wedding night being a disappointment and realising you’re now stuck in document binding unison. It was too expensive to get divorced back then. No wonder the elderly are all doing it now.

Of course, I could avoid any agro altogether by simply asking Maya out. She was happy enough to kiss me, why would she say no? Maybe my weakness is putting her off from taking another chance. I should text her.

‘Cal, put your phone away,’ Camilla says through gritted teeth. ‘Auntie Amy just asked you a question.’

‘Huh?’ I say.

‘He’s a teenager, Millie,’ Amy says. ‘It’s perfectly normal.’

I nod and politely laugh along. Today is Grandma’s birthday and she’s invited us round for a family get-together. I would say it’s nice to see them and it is until you have the same conversation with each present relative. The first time you give your life update, it’s improvised. You tell them about school and work and that one friend’s name that they weirdly remember. Every other time is like performing from a memorised script. ‘Oh, you know—school’s alright. We’re reading Chaucer in English, studying the Second War in History, website building in IT…Yeah, work’s okay. Haven’t jumped in yet, no… Yeah, Bill’s fine—yes, still living on Church Close.’ I could tell them about the Creche, but I don’t think Grandma would find that appropriate. Uncle Reggie will find it funny—I’ll tell him in du-course.

‘Fred couldn’t make it, then?’ Grandma asks.

‘Playing football with his friends,’ Camilla says. ‘I never spend any time with him anymore. He’s always out!’

What Camilla doesn’t know is that Fred is more than likely drinking WKDs and bullying younger children. He pours it in water bottles and tells Camilla it’s blue Powerade. I’ll keep his secret, he once discovered my internet history and printed it on a piece of paper—I don’t know where he keeps it—and threatened to show Mum and Dad if I ever dobbed him in. Camilla and Amy begin their daily discussions, which often involve talking about the same things over and over. Today’s topics include the road works in town and which of their friends will be invited to Kim’s wedding. I know Kim doesn’t want half of the people they’re talking about. Whilst they’re distracted, I text Maya.

Me: Doing anything at the weekend?

Maya: Apart from poisoning Dad’s new girlfriend? I don’t think so.

Me: Wanna chase geese in the park?

Maya: Cool.

Everyone seems to know about Maya. Understandable. The notion of a girl in the folds is exciting gossip for any mother looking to show off her children. It was the same for Kim. Camilla was ecstatic about every one of her daughter’s boyfriends, buying them unnecessarily expensive presents for birthdays and Christmas’ and inviting them to family events. Camilla was insistent they were included in the family photos, but Nick knew better and opted for them to play photographer. It was a little different when Kim brought Jack home. He came along for my dad’s 45th birthday. I remember Nick happily telling Jack to stand next to him in a group photo. He must have sensed Jack was going to stick around a while longer. 

Grandma calls me to help her make tea. She is a little lady who can barely reach the kitchen cupboards. I am asked to get some mugs out whilst she fills the teapot.

‘So your mum has been telling me about a girl…Maya?’ Grandma says.

‘I like these jammy dodgers you’ve bought,’ I say.

‘She sounds like a nice girl.’

‘Camilla’s never met her,’ I say.

‘I hope the two of you are being safe.’

I went incognito and watched porn this morning. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I know what you youngsters get up to these days. I’m not as silly as I pretend. You’re lucky,’ she continues. ‘I’ve told you about your Grandad doing his service in Africa not long after we got together?’

I nod. Many times. Grandma is showing signs of memory flux. I wonder if dementia will be her downfall.

‘A whole two years I waited for that wedding night. Oh the men I could have seen in that time.’

I’d prefer not to hear about Grandma’s twenty-something late night fantasies. The arrival of Uncle Reggie and cousin Benji are certainly a saving grace. Little Benji runs up to me and cheers my name as though I’m the coolest person in the world. ‘Cal, Cal Cal!’ I prefer my cousin to Fred, seven year olds aren’t arseholes yet. 

‘Sorry we’re late, Mum,’ Uncle Reggie says. ‘The barber took a little longer than expected.’

Grandma inspects the rawness of Reggie’s skin fade. ‘Your head is like razor blades. Why do you get these ridiculous looking cuts? I know your father would never approve. He had such wonderful locks.’

‘Mother, I’m nearly forty,’ Reggie says. ‘I can make my own decisions.’

‘I do like Benji’s curtains though, very smart,’ Grandma says. Benji looks like one of those kids from a 90s American comedy.

‘How you doing Cal?’ Reggie asks. ‘Still knocking about at the baths?’

‘Something like that,’ I say.

‘Right, save your yapping for the living room. Me and Cal have got hot tea to carry in,’ Grandma says. ‘Reginald take your shoes off, please!’

And it’s then that I realise the relationship between Grandma and Reggie is the same one I share with Camilla. What are those lyrics Justin Timberlake sang? What goes around, comes back around. Or was that Beyoncé?