Sunday morning and everything was as normal. Sunlight poured through the hastily drawn curtains and set off the pounding in my head. Could I sleep for a few more hours and hope that the horrible pain would go away, or would the pressure in my bladder and the taste of curry and lager in my mouth prove too much? I twisted my head away from the light and sent a chain reaction to the rest of my body - blinding pain in the head, rising nausea and a sudden desperate need to get as much alcohol out of my system as possible. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I lunged out of bed and stumbled the two steps it took to get to the toilet.

12.30, not bad. I popped a couple of aspirin and switched on the TV in time to catch a sports round-up. Great, things were looking up already. Now all I had to do was get showered and dressed and go round to Nan's in time for dinner. And, if I was early and offered to lay the table, she probably wouldn't mind doing a bit of my washing. Well, I say a bit but to be honest, I've been recycling the same pair of jeans for a week now, and I usually just spray my socks with deodorant rather than applying the sniff test - more hygienic, and a lot more pleasant. A cup of tea and a few biscuits would keep me going until a nice bit of roast lamb finally kicked the taste of tandoori out of my mouth for good. Well, until next Saturday night anyway.

I walked down Nan's street whistling, swinging my bag of washing and greeting the doddery old neighbours as I went. Ah, bless 'em. Most of them don't even remember my name - sometimes it's "Hello Mark" or "Hi George". I mean, who's called George nowadays? But the old codgers are nice enough, and it's heartwarming to see all those old people enjoying their twilight years in such a beautiful, well-looked after place as New Heights retirement village. Yep, those cute little yellow bungalows give me a kick every time I come here. Nan's house is particularly nice, although I'm inclined to think that because we're relations. But really, it is. She's got some pretty hanging baskets by the front door and a couple of rose bushes in the hankerchief-size garden. She might be getting on - I can't exactly remember how old, maybe 65, 70? - but she hasn't let things go, not Nan. A cleaner comes in once a week but she does everything else herself, and blimey, she can still cook a treat. I'd starve if I couldn't come to Nan's once a week.

"Benjy! You're early! And how lovely, you've brought something!" Nan opened the door and gave me a hug, the smell of lavender water coming up to greet me.

"Yeah Nan. Well, not exactly. I was a bit pushed for time this week so thought I'd bring some washing with me. That way I get to spend more time with you!"

For a moment she looked a bit nonplussed but not for long. Nan's a trooper. "What a great idea! Now I'll just pop this in the machine and then we can sit down and you can tell me everything you've been doing. Your mum came over yesterday and told me there's a new girl in the picture!" Nan disappeared to the kitchen with a cute little wave of her hand and I fell into the big comfy sofa with a whoosh! from the cushions. "Shoes Ben!" Nan called and I dragged them off my feet and threw them into the hall. Phew, I wished she hadn't asked me to do that.

"So Benjy, who's the girl then and when am I going to meet her?" Nan sat in front of me and smiled, then patted my leg encouragingly. Although I love her and everything, sometimes I think a bit of dementia would make Nan just that much easier to get on with. I mean, do all 20 year olds get the third degree about their love life from their grandparents?

"No one Nan, honest. All I said to mum was that me and some mates were going out last night. One of them happens to be a girl. But she's not a girl friend, just a mate. Really."

"Now you don't have to be shy with me. I think it's wonderful that you're moving on after Emma. When am I going to meet her? You could've brought here round today, there's enough lamb for three, and I've made trifle as well. Why don't you call her now?" Nan stood up and went to the phone.

God, why did she have to mention Emma? I'm never going to be able to forget her if everybody goes on talking about her as if we were married or something. We went out for a couple of months, that was all. "Nan! Honestly, she'd think I was barmy if I invited her to Sunday dinner with you!"

She looked hurt. "No, not because it's you, just because she's a friend and not a, you know, girlfriend. There's no romance or nothing. If there was I'd tell you, promise."

Nan smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, if you say so Benjy. But remember that promise!"

Sunday afternoon. The Eastenders theme tune woke me up and I groaned. Oh God, why do I do it to myself? Two helpings of roast lamb, a bucket full of Nan's roast potatoes, almost an entire Yorkshire pudding covered in gravy, a smidgen of cabbage and a few peas (got to get me vitamins from somewhere). Then two, no three bowls of sherry trifle. Christ, my stomach was so big I looked like I was expecting triplets. Nan was sitting on the sofa knitting one of her interminable jumpers. She never seems to finish them. I have a feeling she just unravels the wool and starts all over again. Bit of a relief actually, the last one she gave me for my fifteenth birthday was so hideous that even the dog refused to sleep on it in his basket.

"God Nan, what time is it? I better be going."

"Oh no Benjy! It's only five thirty. Stay, I'll make you a bit of supper, I just want to finish this row."

Oh well, I wouldn't be eating properly for the next week so I decided to stay. Just to keep Nan company for a bit longer, you know how it is with old people.

It was Wednesday evening and I was sitting watching a video (Rocky Three, extremely underrated return to form by Stallone) when Nan called. At first I didn't recognise who it was, she sounded different, but then everybody does on the phone.

"Benjy, I need you to do something for me."

"Erm, what Nan? I'm sort of busy at the moment."

"It won't take long, I need something lifted and I can't do it myself. It wouldn't be any trouble for a big strong lad like you."

"Well, can't it wait until the weekend?"

"No, it needs to be done today. You'll be finished in half an hour and I'll make you a bit of dinner if you like. I'll expect you soon." And she put the phone down. Bloody hell, what was all this about? I couldn't imagine what Nan wanted me to lift, she wasn't exactly the type to go around moving furniture and redecorating like all those idiots on TV, Changing Bathrooms or Faces or Brains or whatever it was. But, what could I do? I sighed and got my coat.

When I got there Nan was in the garden pruning the rose bushes, with the front door wide open and classical music coming from the radio.

"Nan, what's going on?"

"Oh hello Benjy. Thanks for coming. It's in the spare room." She put down the shears and I followed her into the house and past the lounge. The door to the spare room was open and I could see a big wooden chest on the floor next to the bed. I'd never seen it before and couldn't think what was in it, or where she'd been keeping it.

"I'd like that moved into my room, and my old wardrobe moved in here. It's too cramped and I want a bit of space. This room is never used so it doesn't matter what I put in it."

"But what about me when I stay over? Where will I sleep?"

Nan stared. "Benjy, you haven't slept over since you were thirteen. I can't keep the room just for you." And she walked out and back into the garden.

Something was definitely up. I went over to the chest and pulled at the lid but it wouldn't open. I knelt down and looked for a handle or something. There wasn't even a lock. I pushed it. It didn't budge. I pushed again, harder. This time it moved half an inch.

"Nan! What's in this thing anyway?" I called. She didn't answer. I resigned myself to moving it and grasped it with two hands, digging my heels into the floor to get some pull. Slowly it moved forward, grating on the wooden floor. I stopped, wiped my brow and started again. Inch by inch I dragged the thing into Nan's bedroom, grunting with the effort and cursing under my breath. Finally it stood just inside the door. I sat down on the lid for a rest and looked at the wardrobe she wanted moving. Bloody hell, that thing was from another century, god knows how much it weighed. I couldn't understand why she suddenly wanted it moved. Maybe I could convince her not to bother.

"Miaw."

I jumped. Sitting in the middle of the bed was a sleek, multi-coloured cat, surveying me with large grey eyes. It blinked slowly.

"Where the hell did you come from? Get off my Nan's bed!" I took a step forwards and it hissed, its head lowered. Suddenly Nan was at my elbow.

"Oh, you've still got the wardrobe to do. I thought you'd be finished by now."

"What's that cat doing there?"

"Sleeping I should imagine, you've probably disturbed her. I'll make you some sandwiches. Come on, get on with it." And she left.

The cat jumped off the bed and followed her without another glance in my direction. I looked again at the wardrobe and shrugged.

On my way home I decided to pop in and see Mum, ask her what was going on with Nan. My fifteen year old sister Laura opened the door, talking on the phone. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was me and disappeared upstairs.

"Nice to see you too sis!" I called after her and went into the living room where Mum was reading the paper.

"What do you want?" She looked up, reading glasses sliding off the end of her nose.

"Oh that's just great, everybody's so bloody pleased to see me!"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself Ben. Of course I'm pleased to see you. As you're up, put the kettle on and bring in the biscuit jar, there's a good lad."

"What did your last slave die of?"

"Insubordination! Now get on with it!" That's the problem with having a mum at university, she knows too many big words and I never win an argument with her.

I brought in two cups of tea and the jar of biscuits. Mum put down the paper and settled herself back with her tea. She looked at me over the rim of the cup. "So."

"What's got into Nan? She had me moving furniture all over the place today! And since when has she had a cat?" I dunked a biscuit in my tea and then swallowed it whole.

"Cat? She hasn't got a - Oh, wait a moment. She did say something about one of the neighbours leaving behind a cat and no one to look after it. Maybe she decided to take it in."

"Where did they go?"

"It's a euphemism Ben. She died."

"Whatever. It's a bloody awful thing, just sat there glaring at me while I ate my sandwiches like it was thinking of mugging me for a lick of marmite. And what about that big wooden box thing she's got in her room? Do you know what's in it?"

"Oh yes, I remember that. I think it's all her old photos and equipment. Maybe she's going to sort through it, it's about time. What else did you move?"

"Her old wardrobe, I had to put it in the spare room. It was almost empty but still, it felt like I was moving half a forest. What equipment anyway?"

"Her old cameras and stuff. She used to be a semi-professional photographer, I thought you knew that. She did a few weddings and things, for the money, but she was really interested in more arty stuff, portraits and bleak landscapes. She even had an exhibition in a small gallery in London but with us kids, I think it was just too much and she gave it up. Of course that wouldn't happen nowadays, but back then women were supposed to surrender their independence for the good of the family-"

"Please, spare me the feminist lecture. Hey, do you think any of it will be worth something? I wouldn't mind a decent camera. I mean, how hard can it be to take a nice photo? See it, point, snap. I could start a new career!"

"I don't think your nan will be wanting to give anything away. She might give you some tips though, if you ask her nicely."

Walking home I mulled over what Mum had told me. There was a side to Nan that I'd never known about, and I was intrigued. As far as I was concerned, she was just the person who looked after me and Laura when Mum was at work (that was a few years ago now, before I got my own place), the one who'd made an effort for family birthdays and Christmas by cooking a big dinner and decorating the place with balloons and streamers and stuff. I don't remember very much about granddad, he died of lung cancer a few years after I was born, but Nan was always there when anything important happened. When Dad left, it was Nan who packed all his stuff and told him not to bother showing his face again, with or without his mini-skirt wearing new girlfriend (his secretary, what a cliche!). Yeah, Nan has always been a big part of the family. I can't believe she'd rather have been a fancy photographer. And surely she's too old to do anything now?

"What are you doing this weekend Ben?" We were sitting in the tiny stockroom of Mobiles 4 U, unpacking a batch of new Nokias and trying to avoid the Manager, who was manouvering for promotion to Head Office and was insisting we wore name badges and greeted every customer with 'Hello how may I help you? Have you seen this week's special offer?" If I'd wanted to suck up to customers and cram salesroom spiel down their throats, I'd have been a used car salesman.

"Oh, the usual. Meeting my Dad on Saturday, might watch a bit of footy, go for a few beers. Then a few lads from college are going to that new club in Benfleet, thought we'd check it out. You can come if you like." I peeled off a long strip of packing tape and threw it over my shoulder.

"Not got a date then?" Jim, despite looking a bit like Brad Pitt with a goatee (if you screwed up your eyes and the light was right), was a true romantic and had been looking for the perfect girl for as long as I'd known him, which was about 2 years now. He always had a date on Saturday night, the only thing was, every time it was with a different girl. None of the women he met measured up to his ideal, but that hadn't dashed his hopes at all. I'd tried pointing out that maybe one date wasn't enough, or that maybe he was a bit fussy, but in the end just asked him to pass on my number to any of the girls he thought I'd might like. None of them had called, but hey, it might happen.

"No, but I bet you have. How did you meet this one?"

Just then David pushed open the door. "Aha! It doesn't need two of you to do a bit of unpacking. Ben, there's a customer out here interested in a model with a 12-month contract, go and sell him something very, very expensive. And put your name badge on!"

I didn't really fancy doing anything on Friday. Usually I go out with Jim straight after work, close up the shop a few minutes early ("If you're interested in that particular model sir, I believe there's going to be a special offer on next week. Why don't you come back then?") and head for either the Ship's Anchor (darts, good choice of Real Ales, comfy seats) or the Port and Starboard (big TV with Sky Sports, cheap house doubles all evening). But that day I just didn't feel like it. Instead I treated myself to fish and chips and sat down in front of the TV with a couple of beers. But, well, who was I kidding? I didn't want to sit here alone and I didn't want to talk football with Jim. And I certainly didn't want to do anything productive like clean the flat, despite not having used the hoover for about a month. Normally I'm really good about stuff like that, Mum made sure of it after Dad left and she started working again, but recently I just haven't been bothered. I used to make a real effort when I was going out with Emma, the flat was spotless but since then, well, I just haven't seen the point. And no matter how much I didn't want to admit it, it was Emma I wished I was with. Who cares about bloody sports and the latest iPod downloads when you have to go back to a cold, empty flat every night? Being single sucks, with or without a flat screen TV and a (very, very small) bachelor pad in the middle of town.

In the end Saturday was a wash-out and I staggered in about half twelve, not drunk enough to bother with a kebab from the dodgy van on the corner. Only three of us had made it to the club, then wished we hadn't bothered. Pounding trance alternated with 80s cheese and the only talent looked like jailbait in clothes that Christina Aguilera would have dismissed as trashy. All I had to look forward to was dinner with Nan and the possibility of more hernia-inducing furniture moving. I stomped into the kitchen, opened the fridge and dragged out an old foil container of curry from Tuesday. I sniffed. My nostrils gave an involuntary spasm, then gave me a dubious OK. Thank god for Nan's roast.

I knocked on the door, then waited. And waited. Knocked again, louder. Was Nan going deaf? The old geezer across the road waved hello, which looked a bit dangerous to me as he was on a stepledder cleaning his guttering. It's nice that they're friendly here, but risking life and limb to greet me seems unnecessary. That said, being under pensionable age makes me a bit of an attention-grabbing novelty. Finally the door opened and Nan? opened the door.

"Oh it's you Ben. Come in."

"Nan, is that you?"

"Who else could it possibly be? Close the door, you're letting the heat out."

It sounded like her, but the woman in front of me just didn't look like my Nan. Instead of her ordinary clothes, she had on a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey silky looking blouse with a big jangly gold bracelet on her wrist. What was worse, she was wearing make-up, lipstick and everything. And there was something else ... Her hair! I'm sure it was grey, but now it was sort of, well, blonde. It was most unnerving.

I followed her into the living room. This was different as well, she must have done some more clearing and decorating after I left. At the front, the net curtains were gone and instead, a large bunch of fresh flowers stood in the centre of the window sill. A pink throw covered the sofa, and instead of photos of me and Laura, Nan had put landscapes and old black and white pictures of men in uniform and women in 40s style clothes. What was going on? Even worse, the multi-coloured cat lay on a blanket in the armchair, eyeing me with disdain.

"What do you think Ben? Much nicer isn't it. I just hadn't realised how old and dowdy everything looked, then for some reason I came in here one morning and decided I had to do a bit of redecorating. I've got some quotes for a new three piece as well, me and your mum are going to have a look next week. Now, how about a drink before dinner?"

"Yeah, it looks lovely Nan. Where have all the pictures gone?"

"You mean the school photos of you and Laura? Well, you're not exactly kids any more, and I just fancied a change. These are some of my old photos that I got out of the chest you moved for me. Oh, that reminds me. I need someone to look at my old camera, there's something wrong with it. Sid next door said I could find a specialist on the internet, but I'd never be able to do that on my own. Could you help me Ben?" Nan had brought out some wine glasses and a bottle of Jacob's Creek. "White ok for you? It goes better with fish."

"Fish? You don't roast fish Nan." I grabbled a glass and took a big slug; it looked like I'd be needing it.

"Oh no, it's baked. I got us a nice couple of halibut. I was getting tired of roast every week, it leaves me so bloated. So, could you find a camera expert on the internet for me?"

"Erm, yeah, I suppose so." I went to sit down on the sofa. The cat hissed.

"Oh don't be scared of Lulu, she won't hurt you."

"She almost took my eye out last time. How long are you keeping her for?" I skirted around the armchair and sat down on the throw, taking another generous gulp of wine.

"She's mine now, aren't you Lulu? Yes you are, yes you are!" Nan stroked the cat's head and spoke in a singsong girly voice. The cat looked up and purred. It was disgusting.

"I'll leave you two to make friends while I finish dinner. And you might get a little something as well Lulu!" And Nan skipped off to the kitchen, leaving the cat and me looking at each other with about as much love as Cain and Abel. I've never been much for cats personally, they seem so prissy and sort of, I don't know, stuck up. Not to mention all that horrible licking. Emma had a cat, she let it sleep on her bed. I pointed out that it was pretty disgusting, but she said cats were the cleanest animals, probably cleaner than humans. I mean, how can licking yourself be considered washing? This cat, as if to prove my point, put up one stripey leg and started carefully licking her nether regions; it was almost enough to put me off my dinner, not that I really fancied halibut. Yuck, fish was just a bit too healthy for me. But I'm sure Nan wouldn't let me down with dessert - would it be sticky toffee pudding this week, or maybe jam roly poly?

The cat was staring at me. I shifted in my seat and started whistling the theme to Dambusters. It was staring me out! Was this a precursor to ripping out my jugular with those nasty claws and getting my precious blood all over Nan's new throw? I shuddered and stood up to look at Nan's photos, carefully avoiding further eye contact. If it wanted to be metaphorical top dog, I was quite happy to let it and avoid any nastiness with claws and teeth.

I had to hand it to Nan, these photos were pretty damn good. One particular scene looked familiar, a stark black and white image of a ruined castle against a cloudy sky.

"Do you recognise it?" Nan asked as she came back in.

"Yeah, kind of. Where is it?"

"Hadleigh Castle, I took you there as a boy. You were more interested in the ice cream van but I've got a picture of you somewhere, balanced on that rock."

"Oh yeah, I know the place. It's a great picture Nan, I never knew you were a photographer."

"Well I haven't done anything for years but it was Lulu who reminded me." The cat was giving Nan career advice?

"Lulu?"

"Yes, I needed a picture of her to go in the advert - that was before I decided to keep her - and my old camera was in the box with all these photos. Once I started looking through them I realised how much I missed doing it, and these are pretty good, even if I say so myself." She looked at the photos around the room proudly, and I could only agree.

"So did you have a nice time last night?" Nan asked me over dinner. We were sitting at the little kitchen table while the cat sat at Nan's feet, grinning smugly and swallowing morsels of halibut that Nan kept on giving her.

"Not really. The club was a real dive and the girls were way too young and had no class anyway. I'm never going to meet anyone!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic Ben. So you split up with Emma, you're only 20, there's plenty of time for you to find someone special. Just stop moping around and make an effort. Now, are you ready for dessert?"

"I'm not moping, it's just that you know, I, well, she was - "

"Cream with fruit salad, or ice cream?"

"Fruit salad? What about jam roly poly?"

"Those desserts are very fattening, not to mention increasing your risk of heart disease. I think cream, then I can pour a little in Lulu's dish, you'd like that wouldn't you Lulu?" And they were off again, gazing into each other's eyes with mutual adoration, while Nan stroked the horrible little furry head. I suddenly wanted to go home.

"Actually Nan, I think that's a great idea. No more moping for me! I'm going to go home now and call that girl I told you about last week and ask her out. Strike while the iron's hot, that's the best way!" I pushed back my chair and went to get my coat.

"I thought she was only a friend! Don't go making a fool of yourself Benjy!" Nan called after me.

"I won't Nan! Thanks for dinner!" As I closed the door I heard something about the internet. "Yeah, I'll call you. Bye!"

On the way home I bought a Sunday paper and a Mars bar. Maybe I would phone Heather after all, we had flirted a bit last week and she was cute. Just as long as she didn't have a cat, it might work.