The Switch(63)

I wish I could stay here and do the same. He’d never suspect it if I was the one investigating. Nobody ever thinks it’s the old lady.

‘Oh, good,’ Bee says happily. ‘You must be starting to feel better. You’ve got your scheming face on.’





21


Leena


I’m all geared up to head back to London the next morning, but when Yaz answers Martha’s phone she tells me – as kindly as a person can – that the two of them need a few weeks to get their shit together before anyone visits.

‘She’s even banned her own father from coming to stay,’ Yaz says apologetically. ‘Sorry, Leena.’

I hear Martha in the background. ‘Pass me the phone!’ she says.

‘Hey!’ I say. I’ve got the phone on speaker while I tidy Grandma’s kitchen, but I switch back to hand-held. I need Martha’s voice to be nearer my face – that’s the closest I can get to hugging her. ‘Oh my God, how are you? How is baby Vanessa?’

‘Perfect. I know it’s a cliché to say that but I really think she is, Leena,’ Martha says earnestly. ‘Though breastfeeding is a lot less Madonna-and-child than I was expecting. It hurts. She kind of … chomps.’

I pull a face.

‘But the midwife says she’ll come and help me with my latching position and we’ll get it sorted in no time, won’t we, my beautiful baby?’ This is presumably addressed to Vanessa, not to me. ‘And Yaz has found us a gorgeous flat in Clapham! Isn’t she amazing? But anyway, none of this is what I wanted to say, sweetheart, I wanted to say … Oh, I’m sorry not to invite you down. I love you, but – I’ve just got Yaz back, and …’

‘Don’t worry. I completely get it. You need your time with Vanessa.’

‘OK. Thank you, sweetheart. But that’s also not what I wanted to say. What did I want to say, Yaz?’

God, this is like Martha after five glasses of wine and no sleep. Is this what people mean when they talk about ‘baby brain’, I wonder? But I’m smiling, because she’s so audibly happy, just buzzing with it. It’s so good to hear her and Yaz together again. I’ve always loved Yaz – when she’s around, Martha opens out, like one of those flowers you see on fast-forward on the telly. Yaz just needs to be around a bit more.

‘You wanted to tell her to stop her grandmother from going home,’ Yaz says in the background.

‘Yes! Leena. Your grandmother can’t go home yet. It’s so good for her, being here in London. I’ve seen her every day this last month and honestly, the transformation – she’s blossoming. She’s smiling ten times more. Last week I walked in and she and Fitz were dancing together to “Good Vibrations”.’

My spare hand goes to my heart. The image of Grandma and Fitz dancing together is almost as cute as the picture of baby Vanessa that Yaz just sent me.

‘You know she’s dating an actor? And she’s got us all turning the downstairs area of the building into this community space?’ Martha continues.

‘Seriously? The area with the miscellaneously stained sofas?’ And then, processing: ‘Is the actor called Tod? She won’t tell me a thing about her love life, it’s infuriating!’

‘You are her granddaughter, Leena. She’s not going to want to keep you up to speed on her sex life.’

‘Sex?’ I say, pressing a hand to my chest. ‘Oh, my God, weird weird weird.’

Martha laughs. ‘She’s having an amazing time here, and she’s working on this new project – a social club for elderly people in Shoreditch.’

‘There are elderly people in Shoreditch?’

‘Right? Who knew! Anyway, she’s only just getting it off the ground, and she’s so excited about it. You need to let her finish what she’s started.’

I think of Basil, how he laughed about Grandma’s projects never going anywhere, and I feel suddenly and very fiercely proud of my grandmother. This project sounds amazing. I love that she’s not given up on the idea of making a difference, not even after decades of men like Basil and Grandpa Wade putting her down.

‘It’s talking to your mum that’s got her thinking she has to come home,’ Martha says. ‘Something about an argument?’

‘Ah.’

‘Tell Eileen you’ll sort things with your mum and I bet she’ll stay here. And it’d be good for you, too, sweetheart. Talking to your mum, I mean.’

I pick up the cleaning cloth again and scrub hard at the hob. ‘Last time we talked it ended in this horrible fight.’ I bite my lip. ‘I feel awful about it.’

‘Say that, then,’ Martha says gently. ‘Tell your mum that.’

‘When I’m with her, all the feelings, the memories of Carla dying – it’s like getting bloody bulldozed.’

‘Say that, too,’ Martha tells me. ‘Come on. You all need to start talking.’

‘Grandma’s been wanting me to talk to Mum about my feelings for months,’ I admit.

‘And when is your grandmother ever wrong? We’ve all fallen madly in love with Eileen, you know, Fitz included,’ Martha says. ‘I’m thinking about getting one of those wristbands people wore in the nineties, except mine’ll say, What Would Eileen Cotton Do?’