Twenty minutes later, Granddad is telling us he is fine even though we have to scratch his nose for him because his arm isn’t working properly. Dad has called about sixteen times and Aunty Teresa keeps telling him that he doesn’t need to come back from Ibiza. Granddad is going to be fine, Teresa says, because she has it “completely taken care of.” She tells us that she is going to use “conventional therapy and some herbal remedies.”
Even through a brain injury, Granddad manages to pull the face of “not on your life, Teresa.”
Granddad looks at me. His voice is slurred, but you can still understand him. “Come here, Mills. I can see that you’re worried … don’t be. I can’t promise you that I’ll be around forever but I don’t think I’m going tonight. And don’t worry, I won’t let Teresa finish me off, either!”
This makes me laugh. It seems wrong to be happy at a time like this, but my giggle makes Granddad smile.
“Millie,” he whispers, “can you bring me my book of flags, please? I’d like to make sure I can still beat you while I’m stuck in here.”
I nod.
“We’ll go now,” Mum says. “You need to rest, Granddad, and Teresa is a great nurse.”
Teresa beams with pride. Granddad just looks a bit worried. I promise to get his book for him and Mum and I go back to the car.
Mum looks at me. “It’s all a bit crazy at the moment, isn’t it, Lady Boleyn.”
I look at her with my eyes wide. That doesn’t even cover it.
I check my phone. Lydia Portancia has e-mailed me.
Millie! Sorry to hear about you and Danny, but your mum’s vlog is genius. It opens us up to all sorts of new audiences. Please feel free to include her and Dave as much as you like. We’ll all just get bigger and bigger together!
L xxxxx
I show Mum. “Oh! Five kisses.” Mum smiles. “She loves you at the moment!”
I fire an e-mail back to Lydia.
Hello Lydia,
I hope you understand, but I’m not really interested in trying to get bigger right now. If viral happens, it happens. My granddad’s ill and I want to concentrate on him and use the vlog for fun. I’m fine where I am. I just want to enjoy it and be me. I know your other clients will keep you busy. I’ll be in touch if I need any help.
Thanks,
Millie
I read the e-mail out to Mum and ask her if I’m a feminist warrior. Mum smiles and replies, “Millie. You are BRUTAL. You’re learning. I bet she messages you back within thirty minutes.”
I don’t think I care if she does right now. I’m not going to fully commit myself to never caring about Lydia Portancia ever again obviously, but, at the moment, she’s not high on my list. In fact, she’s low on my chart of life stuff.
I don’t tell Mum this, though. I’ll work out a plan on my own when I’m ready. This is New Millie. I’m a mixture of “I don’t care” but “I do care,” and I’m giving myself time to work out what I REALLY want.
This is why I can’t tell Mum. New Millie currently makes no sense, but she will after a good night’s sleep and a takeout meal. There is no WAY we are cooking anything. I think Mum would get toast delivered today.