Grandad comes to our house for lunch once a week, on Sunday. Dad picks him up and drops him home again. Pop doesn’t stay long. According to Mum it’s because he’s independent. According to Pop it’s because he doesn’t like us.

This time, two of us passed on the roast beef. Grandad has been vegetarian for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never asked him about it. It’s just the way it is, a peculiarity that isn’t really a peculiarity because I’m used to it.

Mum placed a burger on my plate and one on Grandad’s.

‘What’s this?’ he said, poking it with his fork as one might poke a body to discern if it’s still alive. The burger didn’t twitch.

‘Bean burger,’ said Mum.

‘I don’t care what it’s been, what is it now?’ said Pop.

‘Very funny, Dad,’ said Dad. ‘It was funny the first time I heard it, back in 1987, and you have to say that as a joke, it’s aged well.’

‘I wish I could say the same for you, you blankety heap of dog vomit,’ said Grandad.

‘I know which act I’m doing for Milltown’s Got Talent,’ I said. I wasn’t trying to stop an argument. Sunday dinners are always like this and everyone seems to have fun. It stopped the conversation, though.

‘I’m sorry, Rob,’ said Mum. ‘What’s Milltown’s Got Talent?’

I explained. I felt slightly bad that I’d taken Grandad into my confidence but not my parents. In my defence, I hadn’t made any decisions to actually do it – in fact, the odds were overwhelmingly against. Mum and Dad listened and didn’t say anything, but I could read their expressions. What about panic attacks? Rob has difficulty talking to the search assistant on a computer …

‘The beauty of this act is that it won’t be me doing it. Well, it will, but in some ways, if I can get my head space right, it won’t. Even though it will be me on stage, it won’t be me doing it …’

‘That’s it,’ said Grandad. ‘Rob’s finally cracked. Alan, you call the ambulance while I fashion a straightjacket from a pair of curtains …’

‘Can I perform the act after dinner?’ I said. ‘I need to get as much practice in as possible and I want your honest criticism.’

‘Of course,’ said Dad. ‘And you can rely on your grandfather being honest. And critical. Unfortunately.’

I set up the front room while Mum and Dad loaded the dishwasher. Grandad helped me. Well, I say ‘helped’, but basically it was drawing the curtains. I moved the furniture back against the walls so there was a round space in which I could perform.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Rob?’ said Grandad while I was doing this. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s brilliant if you can stand up in front of people and perform, but …’

‘But you worry I won’t be able to.’

‘I worry you’ll try, get a panic attack in front of the entire school and freeze. Not the end of the world, true, but you aren’t full of confidence now and I’d hate to see you hurt.’

‘Ah, Pop,’ I said. ‘That’s so sweet. You really care about me.’

‘No need to exaggerate,’ said Pop. ‘I’d find it embarrassing, that’s all. You’re family, even though I will deny that in a court of law if you ever claim I said it.’

‘I have to try, Grandad,’ I said. ‘That’s all I’m doing now. Just trying.’

‘Well, I’m proud of you,’ said Grandad, ‘though I will deny …’

‘I won’t quote you,’ I said.

Mum and Dad came in and sat in the chairs against the wall. Pop sat on the couch. I stood to the side and briefly gazed at my audience of three.

‘I need to give you context,’ I said.

‘You need to give me dessert,’ said Grandad.

‘Shhh,’ said Mum and Dad together.

‘Lady Macbeth,’ I said, ‘has just persuaded her husband, Macbeth, to kill the Scottish king, Duncan, who has come to stay at the Macbeth house overnight …’

‘It’s one reason I never stay over here,’ said Grandad.

‘Will you shut up?’ said Mum. She turned to me. ‘So that’s the plan. Acting out a scene from Shakespeare.’

‘It’s why I said it would be me, but not me,’ I replied. ‘If I can get into character, then it will be someone else up there – in this case, Macbeth himself. I will be hiding beneath him.’

‘But what about putting it into context? Like you’re doing now,’ said Dad. ‘You aren’t hiding now.’

‘True,’ I said. ‘But I won’t be putting it into context in the show, I’ll just be acting the scene. Maybe my English teacher can do that, or maybe it’s not important. I just thought you guys should know.’

‘Okay,’ said Pop. ‘So this Macbeth person is going to kill the king. Is this after dessert?’

‘Shut up,’ said Mum and Dad.

‘It is, actually,’ I said. ‘They’ve had a banquet and the king’s gone to bed. So Macbeth is trying to pluck up the courage to do it. Are you with me?’

My audience nodded. Every single one of them.

I took a deep breath and stepped out into my homemade theatre in the round.