Page 32 of Mark

“What? But…”

“Thank you,” Aiden tells Freya, taking Sunday back. She lowers her head on his shoulder, a massive yawn slipping through her lips as they leave.

Bailey begins to sign, and I feel bad I don’t understand anything she is saying. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I still haven’t gotten any better.”

“She’s asking if you will be joining them for breakfast or if you will be too hung-over,” Freya states.

“You know sign language?” I ask.

Her lips twitch. “Of course. I teach a boy with a hearing impairment.”

“Tell her yes, I’ll be there,” I plead.

She signs back, and Bailey continues to sign too. They keep going for a good five minutes, laughing and ignoring my existence. I’m about to intervene, when Aiden comes back. He snags Bailey around the waist, whisking her away.

“What did she say? Because that seemed like a long conversation.”

“Just that she will see you at breakfast,” she replies.

“You are lying,” I accuse.

Her lips twitch. “If she wanted you to know, she would have spoken,” she teases.

“Did she say that to you?”

“Guess you’ll have to ask her tomorrow,” she taunts.

“And what Aiden said she told him, was he telling the truth?”

She laughs outright. “No! But again, you’ll have to ask them tomorrow.”

“Oh, I will,” I assure her.

Chanting begins from the crowd, and we both turn to see the old woman Freya was with earlier being lifted up by a group of men. One of them being my uncle Max.

“Oh God!” Freya moans.

“Is that your nan?”

“Yes.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “She reminds me of my great nan. She was the life of the party too.”

She must detect the sadness in my tone because she turns back to me. “What happened to her?”

“She and my great-granddad went to sleep and neither of them woke up,” I answer honestly.

“I’m sorry. I can only imagine how much that must have hurt. My nanna is my world. I’ve been telling her to slow down for years now.”

Her words bring a sad smile to my lips. “She spent her childhood studying behind a desk. She was told when she could eat and had to ask to go to the toilet. Then she probably spent years working a nine to five job to make a living. Plus being married and responsible for children.And grandchildren. Now she’s living for herself, so let her. What is retirement for if not to live life like you couldn’t in your younger years.”

Her lips part like she hadn’t expected that to come from me. “Have you already met my nanna because that’s exactly what she would say. Not in those words but the same meaning.”

I shrug. “I told you, my great nan was just like her. We had to pick her up from the police station once because she and her friend mistook a policeman for a stripper.”

She splutters out a laugh. “She would have loved my nanna then. The last time I had to pick her up from the police station, it was because she was going too fast in her convertible.”

“I hope I live life like they have when I’m old and wrinkly,” I admit, and I don’t know why I do. The words just blurt out of me.