“Oh get over yourself,” I heard Gran shout and the front door slammed. I stayed in my room, the row had lasted for a good hour and was just the latest in many since Christmas. I concentrated on my school books, trying to revise for exams and couldn’t because of the upheaval in the family. I heard footsteps on the path and looked out of the window. Gramps was marching off down the street, head high and arms swinging, but I knew he was hurting inside. He had confined in a male hushed way, that he desired hisown space after all this time, what ... thirty years married!

Why he told me I don’t know, but living with them because of my mum and dad splitting and being male, I suppose I was a shoulder to cry on, I felt hurt me too. Why own space? What was I supposed to do, didn’t he like me either? I knew he and Grandma had grown apart since she had got a job and he was still unemployed and he was very proud. Of Northern stock and a tradesman, it stung him to see Gran bringing in a comfortable wage ... I mean they had a tidy joint pension too. She was glad to be able to support them, living modestly and within a budget apparently. Gramps confided all this, not that I cared. At fourteen, I cared about Jim my pal and BB my boxer dog. As long as food was on the table - whoever bought it and I could get out and see my mates and sneak the odd cigarette and have giggle with Jim, I was happy.

Christmas had been dreadful and I’d spent more time with Jim’s family than mine. His Dad had left home. Paul, Jim’s brother was only twelve and manageable and then there was the mysterious Uncle Ralph who always seemed to be there, spent most of his time cuddling, hugging or slapping Marge’s fat bum; she’s Jim’s Mum. Marge was a brick and funny to be around. She had funds of sly dirty jokes, that she whispered to me. Half the time I hadn’t a clue what they meant, but I laughed with her because her trilling giggles echoed through the dingy house, lightening the heavy dark moods pervading it.

I also loved her perfume and the way she always wore clothes that seemed half on or half off, but wondered if that was anything to do with Uncle Ralph. Lacy underwear was always visible down her blouse and the gap between her tits was wide, not tight, a bit sweaty but both knockers were very low slung and swayed a lot. Jim hated her confiding in me, but it wasn’t confiding, just companionship I guessed and I had a lot more common sense than him as well ... kind of more practical, doing to the odd job if the infamous Ralph wasn’t around to change a plug or fit a light bulb.

I tried to concentrate on my English text book, hearing the TV downstairs. Gran would be cooking or ironing. I sipped a can of coke, gazing round my room with its pop-group posters and clothes hanging off every conceivable hook, shelf, piece of furniture or the floor. It was a mess but it was my domain. I was reminded of Christmas again when my eyes lit on my pinboard and the snaps of Jim and me at various parties. My English book slid off my lap as I thought about the evening round one particular photo.

Jim and I had spent half the night ogling Connie who was Indian. She had got absolutely bladdered that evening on home-made Margarita cocktails and I found Nick and Jim peeping up her skirt where she’d passed out at the top of the stairs in the party house. Not just peeping as if she was stood on the stairs or anything. They were literally holding her skirt up away her dark brown legs and their giggling, smirking faces were near her knees, the lucky dirty bastards!

I’d joined, as you would, but as I was rather pissed too. I’d pulled Connie’s skirt up and but didn’t dare fiddle with her tight polka dotted pants, but we all had a giggle at the mass of black hair bulging out each side. It occurred to me that our very hot beery breath could be caught up her skirt and her mum would find out, but went downstairs with the lads and had some more booze. Jim had passed out with booze later and I’d tried to sleep with Connie and a girl called Paula on a couch, but it was a fitful uncomfortable night.

“Mick, you there?” came Gran’s voice at my door. Her fingers tapped lightly on it until I responded. “Yeah Gran, come in,” I told her tremulously. She stepped into the room framed by the door. Her elderly stout bulk stood awkwardly as she grimaced. “Sorry love, I’m at my wits end with your ... with him,” she gestured with a nod of her head over a shoulder. “Tried to do chores but my head’s spinning as it always does when he goes off like that. I didn’t help I s’pose.” “I heard you swear at him, of course it doesn’t help”’ I told her sternly. “Well the things he said to me, what d’you expect?” she blustered, shaking her salt and pepper haired bob cut. I sat crossed legs on my bed wearing black school trousers, regulation white shirt and loosened tie. “S’alright Gran. Nothing new. Don’t like to hear you two at it all the time,” I told her. “Those were the days, when we were at it all the time,” she grinned weakly, trying to make a light and naughty joke.

I grinned and shrugged at the innuendo, knowing that she knew that I heard her and Gramps having noisy sex occasionally, when things were better. “Don’t your feet get cold?” she asked staring at my bare feet. I didn’t like overheated rooms, therefore my radiators were off and she shivered as if feeling a chill. “Nope,” I answered. “He’s gone cold on me, if you see what I mean”’ she muttered. I nodded as she leaned against the door frame. “Own space, own money, what’s got into him? I’ve never kept him tight for cash - when I had some,” Gran added ruefully. “You alright for cash, for spends Mick?” I nodded and chewed a finger nail. “Good, good. Seeing Jim tonight?” I shook my head, pushing books aside and asking if she wanted to sit down, knowing her arthritis played up now and then. She perched on the bed.

“God, he does upset me after all this time, should know better - daft bugger,” she chided herself ... at least I think she was chiding herself. Real tears, welled up in her eyes and she started to sob. “I’ll be OK it’s just when, you know ... I’ll be OK ... you know,” she mumbled, dabbing her weepy eyes. I made a grab for the tissue box at my bedside, as she did the same. My knee jolted her thigh and my arm brushed across Gran’s tits. It was weird. I hadn’t realised her nipples were erect. I couldn’t see them, her blouse was an opaque material but I felt them, my wrist somehow ultra sensitive.

I love nipples. Whenever I could grab a feel of a girl it was always the upper deck I went for rather than down below. In some happy situations I have sucked them, laughing with girls saying I was hoping to get milk from one and beer from the other. Now that I knew they were there I glanced back at Gran seeing how they stuck out like organ stops. Had I aroused them with the brush of my arm? I wasn’t aroused. Gran was still sobbing and I put my arm round her shoulders. “Come on Gran, don’t cry. It’s not that bad. You’ll sort something out,” I whispered pulling her to me. She leaned in gladly, sighed and rested her head against my shoulder. “It’s no good darling. We’re finished, your Granddad and me.” I wanted to correct her English, but it wasn’t the time. “Still love him you know,” she rasped. Her forearm dropped and rested across my thigh, our legs were close together from hip to knee and the heat generated between us was remarkable. “Course you do. And I love you and him, don’t cry,” I patted her shoulder. She gripped my knee gently and her hand slid about two inches up my thigh then back again. “You’re so old for your age Mick ... like understanding I mean.” Her face turned up and she pecked at my cheek. I pecked back at hers, wondering at the comment. “You’re good kid Mick, such a comfort. A comforting person you are,” she mumbled. “Don’t be daft,” I responded, nudging her. “Can I put my arm round you darling?” she murmured, pleading with sad dark brown, soggy eyes.

She looked so pathetic I let her hug me closely. Idly she patted my thigh as I realised I could see one of her nipples bulked up between her blouse and torso. I budged, she saw my gaze and Gran smiled, glancing down seeing my erection tenting my trousers “Sorry. Am I squeezing your er ... Am I squeezing you too tight?” I shook my head, watching her stare at my crotch. “He was always like that ... oh never mind,” she muttered and blushed. “Like what Gran?” I asked, knowing what she was on about and somehow keen to hear more. Was that because of the stiffy in my pants? She burst into floods of tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him,” she wailed. “I mean it’s not just the what’s it ... you know ... bed and things. He’s been my rock all these years and the only man I’ve ever loved.”

I reached for the box of tissues and her greying head slid down my shoulder and she snuggled onto my chest. My shirt was soaked as I lifted her face and dabbed at it tenderly. Gran’s sobs were really booming up from the depth of her comfy body, which trembled as she poured it out. I’d never ever seen her in this state before. My steady, sensible, reliable grandmother, so strong in will and body was reduced to a mere wet rag of a person ... almost helpless in my arms. “Hey hey its OK please stop crying. I’m here. I can’t take sides, but you’re still my Grandma who I love so much,” I comforted her. “Do you Mick?” she tried to smile up at me, her 59 year old face lined with running tears. I nodded and pecked at her lips. Gran pecked back and I pecked her again and she kissed me on my lips and then my cheek. I rubbed her shoulders and down her back suddenly feeling there were no bra straps ... wow! I swayed to and fro, hugging her as she sighed, then her head wobbled slightly as if to settle more comfortably and another huge shuddering sigh escaped Gran’s lips.

I felt her other arm encircle my waist and pat my back, but she had trapped my arm across my thigh. I tried to release it and my fingers seemed to seek out the waist band of her skirt. She tried to help, but my hand slid across Gran’s nipples which were stout solid and thimble like. The bit that puzzled me at the time, was that she never wavered or tried to move free. The good looking slender legged lady was going through a rough patch and I was having the most amazing feelings. Her words compounded the situation. “Mick. You can say no of course ... but ... well will you let me ... Ohhhh!” the sigh racked out of her and I stayed dumb. “It would be nice ... just for a minute ... you know iiiiifff I could ... well hold you, sort of?” What the fuck was she saying? She was holding me. I had an inner dread that I knew. “You are holding me Gran. Its OK, it’s not a problem,” I answered. Her head lifted, eyes boring into mine at the same time I felt the slightest cupping of her hand under my genitals. “Like this,” she whispered as her hand roamed lightly across them.