My Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

was wearing a black polo shirt and dark blue jeans. Not so smart, but most of the time his brother wore tracksuits, so in comparison….
    “I try,” he said, then shut the door behind them.
    “Not bringing some young lad home this time, then?” Nan asked, making her way through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
    “No, Nan,” he said with a laugh. “Not this time.”
    “Not got a boyfriend?”
    George ran his hand over his buzzed short hair, then slowly shook his head. His nan had taken the news of his coming out in her stride, hadn’t cared at all. George had told his mum and dad, older brother, and nan. That was it. Nan was important—he wanted her to know as much as the others. She had been a big influence on his life, his Granddad too, before he passed away. It didn’t feel right to tell the others and not her.
    “Not yet,” he said, then went to sit down at the table.
     
     
    H ALF AN hour later, he made the second cup of tea while his nan broke open a new packet of biscuits for the tin. George didn’t mind spending time with her. It wasn’t like this was a chore—he wanted to be here.
    “Have you had the decorators in?” he asked, looking around the living room. The previous hideous floral wallpaper had been replaced with a new hideous floral wallpaper, and the smell of paint still lingered in the air.
    “Ooh, yes,” she said, apparently pleased that he’d noticed. “Me and Sal from across the hall got some very nice boys in. They did both our living rooms at the same time. What do you think?”
    “Very nice.”
    “Your dad recommended them, you know. Apparently they’re Maggie’s friends. One of them was Polish, but he worked proper hard, like the rest of them.”
    George was used to this casual racism and no longer bothered to correct it. His nan still called him “queer” and never gave a thought to whether or not he might find it offensive. She’d talk about “darkies” and “dirty Arabs” and “spastics,” and what could he do? The woman was pushing eighty; she was a product of her generation and correcting her only upset her.
    “You going back to your mum’s tonight, then?”
    “I think so, yeah. I texted Dan—you remember Dan? We were at school together—to see if he’s around, but he hasn’t text back yet. I think he’s at work today.”
    “Dan’s the one with the young’un, isn’t he?”
    “That’s right. Alfie.”
    “Alfie.” His nan sighed. “I used to go out with an Alfie, you know that? It’s funny how all the names come round again.”
    “True.”
    “Emma came over the other day, with the babby,” Nan said, ushering them back to the living room with the refreshed biscuit tin. Emma was one of George’s sisters. She’d been fifteen when she fell pregnant, and the baby was born a few days after her sixteenth birthday. Now George’s mum looked after the baby when Emma was doing her exams, and Emma had moved from one of the small bedrooms to a bigger one, where there was room for the crib.
    “Yeah? How is she?”
    “She’s okay. Said she’s going to go do a course in hairdressing at the polytechnic when she finishes her exams.”
    “The college?” George asked, amused.
    “Aye, that’s it, the college. Said she’s going to be a hairdresser and get a flat and set up for herself and Lily-Rose.”
    “That’ll be nice.”
    “That useless boy still around?” Nan demanded.
    “I have no idea,” George said honestly, kicking one ankle over his knee and sipping his tea. “I haven’t seen them in a few months, Nan.”
    “Well, you ask,” she said. “Lord knows they only get upset when I do. All I said was that it’s his responsibility to take care of the babby and Emma. And if he won’t step up, then his parents should.”
    “You know what it’s like on the estate,” George said, shaking his head. “Emma’s not the first to get herself knocked up at her age, nor will she be the last.”
    His nan harrumphed. “Doris Lansdown, on the