I Was Born for This(74)

My friend Angel. My heart pretty much skips a beat.

Jimmy gestures towards me, and I experience a brief panic in which I’m not sure whether I should offer to shake his grandad’s hand or not. Thankfully, he doesn’t offer, but he does smile kindly at me.

‘A friend! Well, Jimmy hasn’t brought a friend over since he was fourteen years old.’

I imagine Jimmy, a normal fourteen-year-old, bringing a friend over after school to play video games. Seems like an alternate dimension.

‘Hi, yes, I’m Angel Rahimi,’ I say. Why did I feel the need to add the surname? ‘Er, sorry there wasn’t any warning … erm …’ I shoot a look at Jimmy. What exactly am I supposed to be saying? Even I don’t really know why I’m here.

‘It’s really no trouble at all. I really do enjoy having visitors, especially friends of my grandson. I’m Piero Ricci.’ He steps back and opens the door wide. ‘Look at you both, you’re soaked! Let’s get you inside and get some toast on the grill.’

Piero has given me some of his dead wife’s clothes to change into while my own clothes are drying on a radiator. Everything in my bags is completely soaked through.

‘I only kept the really special outfits,’ he says with a wink, and holds up a dotty button-up shirt. ‘She used to love this. Said she felt like the night sky. She’d have had a big old strop to see this go to the charity shop.’

He then gives me some grey trousers. Joan must have been about five foot three, because they only reach halfway down my calves. I pull my socks up extra high to try to make up for it.

I leave the bedroom to rejoin Jimmy and Piero in the kitchen, but halt just outside the door as I hear them talking.

‘Found it in a charity shop,’ says Piero, and there’s the noise of a page turning and a finger tapping on the paper. ‘Look, this is a good one.’

‘Yeah, I like how they all really capture the person’s expression,’ says Jimmy, more animated than I’ve heard him in the entire time that I’ve known him in real life.

‘I’ve been saving it for your birthday. I think you’ll find it really interesting.’

‘Yeah, thank you!’

I enter the room, immediately spotting the art book by some unknown artist on the table between them. Jimmy shuts it, like it’s so precious that I’m not allowed to read it, and looks up at me.

‘You certainly are a tall one, aren’t you?’ remarks Piero, chuckling at the length of my trousers. ‘You’ll have to mind your head on the bedroom doors.’

I’m also now using one of Joan Valerie Ricci’s flowery scarves as a hijab. I actually think it’s a pretty good look. Nice one, Joan.

Jimmy’s wearing clothes that seem to fit him, so they must be his. But they look like they’ve come straight from five years ago – the loose beige chinos, a similarly loose polo shirt. For someone who is internationally considered a fashion icon, appearing in fashion and gossip magazines and blogs pretty much every day, it’s almost unnerving to see him dressed like a fourteen-year-old trying to be cool.

‘What d’you fancy, my love?’ asks Piero, heaving himself up from the kitchen table. It seems to take him a great deal of effort. ‘We’ve got eggs? Baked beans? Toast? Hot drinks?’

I sit down at the table opposite Jimmy. ‘Oh wow, all of that sounds amazing—’

‘I can do that, Grandad,’ says Jimmy, immediately standing up from the table, which is so endearing I feel like someone has used a staple gun directly onto my heart.

‘Oh no, you sit down, boyo. I’m not letting you in charge of food.’ Piero flips the kettle on and starts rummaging in a cupboard. ‘Look at you. You’re wasting away.’

Jimmy sits resignedly back down. ‘I am eating,’ he grumbles.

‘Not enough, lad. Growing boys need to eat a lot. I’m going to have to have a word with Rowan, the next time I see him. Make sure he’s keeping an eye on you.’

I’m halfway through my meal when the question I’ve been fearing is finally asked.

‘So how do you know my Jimmy, then, Angel?’ asks Piero, warming his hands on his mug of tea.

I share a look with Jimmy. He just shrugs at me and continues nibbling a dry slice of toast, signalling me to make up something. Thankfully, this is one of my greatest skills.

‘Well, I was just a normal fan of The Ark … but Jimmy and I happened to meet and strike up a conversation at … at a … after one of their concerts. And we got along fairly well, so … we stayed in contact and … now we’re friends.’

It’s weak, but it’s actually not too far from the truth.

‘I see,’ says Piero. ‘That’s nice. Jimmy doesn’t really get the chance to make many new friends, these days.’

The statement strikes me as odd. Surely Jimmy must have a ton of famous, rich, successful friends.

‘And why did you decide to come and visit your old grandad, eh, Jim-Bob?’ asks Piero, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder as he shuffles past to open a cupboard.

Jimmy has been sitting silently all the while Piero has been speaking to us.

Jimmy opens his mouth to say something, but then shuts it again.

And then he just starts crying.

It takes a moment for Piero to notice, as he’s busy stirring the teas. Then he turns, with a questioning ‘Hm?’ and his eyes widen. ‘Oh … Jimmy, come on now,’ he says gently. He walks back to the kitchen table and sits down next to him. Jimmy puts his face in his hands. Piero wraps his arm round Jimmy’s shoulders. ‘Come on, lad, you’re all right. It’s all right, now.’