Perfectly Ordinary People(111)

‘Jesus!’ he said. ‘What is it?’

I pointed at the armchair. ‘Sit down,’ I told him. ‘You’re making me feel nervous.’

Once he’d sat in the armchair opposite, I cleared my throat.

‘Well?’ he prompted.

‘I’ve something I need to tell you,’ I said, my voice sounding unintentionally brittle. ‘Something difficult.’

‘OK,’ Dad said, then, ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Everyone’s fine.’ I took a massive sip of wine before attempting to continue. ‘I . . .’

Dad raised one eyebrow comically, took a swig of beer and then grinned at me. ‘What? Are you pregnant?’

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Why does everyone always think I’m pregnant?’ I asked.

‘So, what then? I’m not a mind-reader, sweetheart.’

I took a deep breath. ‘It’s not . . . it’s nothing like that. It’s . . . Look . . . You know how Ethel was trying to get in touch with you before she died?’

Dad pushed his tongue into his cheek. His smile had already vanished.

‘She wanted to give you something,’ I continued as Dad’s brow furrowed. ‘She wanted to give you this.’ I lifted one corner of the folder and then smoothed it back down with my hand.

‘OK . . .’ Dad said, sounding dubious.

‘But she couldn’t seem to reach you, so . . .’

‘I called her. I’ve already told you. But—’

‘This isn’t about that, Dad,’ I interrupted. ‘No one’s reproaching anyone here. I’m just trying to tell you about this.’ I stroked the folder again. ‘Because she ended up arranging for someone to send it to me. Because it’s important.’

Dad scratched at the corner of one eye. ‘I don’t . . .’ he said, shaking his head confusedly.

‘It’s your life story, Dad. Well, it’s Grandma Genny’s life story. But they end up becoming one and the same thing.’

‘What, in that folder?’

I nodded. ‘Everything from Alsace before the war through to that café they had in Brighton. The whole shebang.’

‘You’re saying she wrote a book about her life?’

‘Yes. Well, it was an interview, actually. On cassettes. In French. I paid the secretary at work to translate it and type it up. It cost me over two grand in the end.’

‘Two grand? Jesus! Why?’

‘Because it was worth it.’

‘Worth two grand?’ Dad said, looking doubtful. He clearly hadn’t grasped the gravity of the moment. ‘Is it interesting, then, this book? Are you going to publish it or something?’

I licked my lips and swallowed. ‘It is interesting,’ I said. ‘It’s actually more than interesting, Dad. It’s quite . . . um . . . mind-blowing. And I think you need to read it.’

Dad laughed lightly at the idea. ‘Oh, you know I’m not the world’s biggest reader,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure your mother will enjoy it if it’s any good. Or you could just give me the tapes, I suppose. If I find time, I’ll have a listen.’

‘If you find time . . .’ I repeated flatly. I sighed. ‘You’re not really getting this. So, it’s an interview, OK? With a magazine. With a French magazine called Gai Pied. Have you ever heard of it?’

Dad pouted and shook his head.

‘OK, well, it’s a gay magazine,’ I said, watching him closely to see any signs of recognition.

‘Oh, OK,’ Dad said, lightly.

‘God, this is hard,’ I said. ‘Do you really not know any of this?’

‘Any of what?’ Dad asked, leaning forward.

I blew through pursed lips. ‘So, there’s a reason. There’s a reason she was interviewed by a gay magazine. It’s because Grandma Genny was gay.’

‘Oh,’ Dad said again, looking confused, but not shocked. ‘OK.’

I was struggling to decide whether his lack of shock meant he already knew, or simply didn’t understand what I was saying. ‘Ethel wasn’t Grandma’s cousin at all. She was her partner. Her life partner.’

Dad grimaced at me but said nothing, so after a moment I asked him if he’d heard me.

‘Yes, but . . .’ Dad said, still looking confused but also faintly amused.

‘Genny and Ethel were a couple, Dad. They were lovers. And so were Grandpa and his friend Igor.’

Dad laughed out loud at this. ‘No,’ he said, simply. ‘They weren’t. I don’t know where you got that from but—’

‘It’s all in here, Dad,’ I said. ‘That’s the thing.’

‘This is . . .’ Dad said, then, ‘What are you up to here?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What do you think you’re up to?’ he asked. ‘What’s this about? Because I don’t—’

‘I’m not up to anything, Dad. It’s the truth. Genny and Pierre pretended to be a couple their whole lives, but they weren’t. Genny and Ethel were a couple. And so were Pierre and Igor.’

‘Pierre?’ Dad said. ‘Who’s Pierre?’