He pushed the garden gate, and it swung open without a creak, its hinges well-oiled.
“Good job, Tom,” he muttered under his breath. Of course, it had to be the neighbourwho else would bother?
He walked across the yard, setting his rucksack down by the porch before pacing around once more. His fingers brushed against the round, brown door lock out of habit.
The key… Tom had one, but he didnt feel like going over there now. He was tired from the journey.
Then he remembered. He reached above the doorframe, feeling around until his fingers caught on a black string. There it wasthe spare key. He slipped it into the lock, turned it with a soft click, and pushed the door open.
The porch greeted him, its delicate embroidered curtains swaying gently in the breeze. Lucy had stitched those, he thought fondly, stepping inside.
He moved through the rooms without switching on the lights. The house still smelled like homethat familiar, comforting scent he had missed so much. Tears pricked his eyes, and his heart hammered wildly in his chest.
Blast it. He patted his pocketsno luck. The pills were in his rucksack. He went back, grabbed it, and placed a tiny lifesaver under his tongue. His heart slowed, the ringing in his ears faded, though his temples still throbbed. It would pass.
He sat there, wrapped in warmth and peace.
Home.
“Whos there?” A voice called from the open doorway.
“Its me, Dave.”
“Eddie? Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
“Whereve you been? Your Lizzie came by with some people, said you were in hospital, that it didnt look good.”
“Theyll have a long wait,” he chuckled. “What people?”
“Dunno, city folk. Lizzie kept pointing things outreckon theyre buyers. Anyway, you must be starving. The missus has made dinner. Why not come over?”
“Nah, Im alright, Dave. Thanks for keeping an eye on the place.”
“Dont mention it. You sure you wont join us?”
“Im home.”
“Suit yourself. Ill be quick.”
As if hed go anywhere. He was herethis was his house.
He sat by the window until dawn, watching the sunlight creep in. Stretching, he stepped outside, checking the shed and woodpile before wandering into the garden. Everything was tidy.
By midday, the sound of an engine broke the silence. A car pulled up. Who was that? Lizzie with a new motor?
Laughing, chatty strangers unloaded bags and suitcases. Lizzie? How? Had his daughter sold the house behind his back?
Unbelievable.
“Excuse me, what are you doing here?”
“Were moving in,” a little boy, about four, tilted his head. “Who are you, grandad?”
“Moving in? Who said you could?”
“We bought it,” the boy said, while the adults ignored him, hauling in boxes.
“Bought it from whom? This is my house!” He slammed the door in their faces.
They opened it again, complaining about a draughtnonsense, all the windows were shut.
“Ill call the police!” He tried barricading himself inside, but they shoved pasttoo strong for an old man.
“These hinges need oiling,” one muttered.
Lizzie Lizzie couldnt wait, could she? Sold the house while he was still alive. Where was he supposed to go?
“Grandad, will you live with us now?”
“Live with you? No! And neither will you!” He snatched old photos from their hands, cradling them protectively.
“We should call the previous owner. Andy, close the doorlook at this mess!”
“Mum, is this grandad staying?” The boy pointed at a portrait.
“Mike, stop bothering people. Thats the old ownerpack it up, lads.”
“Old owner? I am the owner!” He locked himself in the bedroom, sinking onto the bed.
“Grandad, why are you cross? Have a sweet.”
“Thanks, lad. Why wont they listen?”
“Dunno,” the boy shrugged. “They dont listen to me either.”
They were calling someoneLizzie? Good. Shed explain herself. He wouldnt be angry, just ask her to undo this.
They packed away drawings, photoshe grabbed one: Lizzies sketch for Armed Forces Day. And now shed sold their home. His home. Hers, Lucys, and Lizzies.
She arrived, brushing past him.
“Lizzie, love” She didnt even glance his way.
“She cant hear you, grandad. None of them can.”
“What? You can.”
“Yeah, but they say Im making things up.”
“Ask herask Lizzie if she sees me!”
The boy ran to her. “Lizzie, do you see this grandad?”
“Mike, stop this nonsense!”
“Hes your dad! Hes here! He doesnt understand why you sold the house!”
They froze.
“Mike what does he look like?” The boy described him perfectly.
“Hes just a kid, he doesnt”
“Tell her this, lad.” He spoke, and the boy repeated:
“Remember when we flew, and you saw the clouds from underneath? You screamed, Daddy, look!”
Lizzie went pale.
“Or when you hid from geese? Sat under the apple tree, waiting for one to bonk your head? Or fifth gradeyou fancied that lad, kept hitting him. His mum came round turned out she was my first sweetheart.”
“Dad?”
“He loves you. Hell always be near.”
The family wept.
Lizzie sat on the bench, the boy beside her, whispering.
“Dad,” the boy murmured. “I have to go.”
“Daddy!” She clutched the boy.
“Hes gone but he said hes close. AndAlishas having a boy.”
“What? The scan said girl!”
Her phone rang.
“A boy? Butyes, of course Im happy!”
She stared at the sky.
“Thank you, Dad goodbye.”
