“Thanks, Dad… Goodbye.”
He pushed the garden gate, and it swung open without so much as a squeakwell-oiled hinges, thanks to old Bill next door. Who else would bother?
Crossing the yard, he dropped his rucksack by the porch, took a slow walk around, then touched the round brass lock on the door. The key…
Bill had one, but he wasnt in the mood to fetch it. Too tired from the journey. Then he rememberedfelt along the doorframe, and there it was, dangling from a frayed bit of string.
The key clicked, the lock gave way, and the door opened with ease. Inside, the lace curtainsthe ones Emily had embroideredfluttered in the draft. Shed always loved that sort of thing, he thought, stepping further in.
No need for lights. The house smelled like home, that unmistakable blend of wood polish and memories. His heart gave a traitorous thump, eyes prickling. Blast itwhere were his pills? Still in the rucksack.
He fetched them, popped one under his tongue, and waited for the drumming in his chest to quiet. Just the pulse in his temples nownothing a cuppa wouldnt fix.
Home.
“Whos there?” A voice from the open doorway. “Eh?”
“Me, Bill…”
“Fred? That you?”
“Suppose so.”
“Whereve you been? Your Lucy came by with some folkssaid you were in hospital, no one knew what was what.”
“Fat chance,” he chuckled. “What folks?”
“Dunno. City types. Lucy kept pointing things out… Reckon they were buyers. Anyway, come on, the missuss got supper on. Fancy a bite?”
“Nah, ta. Cheers for keeping an eye on the place.”
“Dont be daft. Sure you wont come?”
“Nope. Im home.”
Bill huffed. “Right, Ill fetch you a plate then.”
As if hed vanish. Silly sod. This was his house.
He sat by the window till dawn, watching the sun climb. Stretched, wandered outsidechecked the shed, the woodshed, the vegetable patch. All tidy.
By midday, an engine growled. A car. New one, too. People tumbled out, laughing, hauling bags. ThenLucy. His Lucy? Behind his back? Sold the house?
“Oi! Whatre you lot doing?”
“We live here now,” piped a little boy, head tilted. “Whore you, grandad?”
“Live here? Like hell you do!”
“We bought it,” the boy said, while the adults ignored him, unloading boxes.
“Bought it from who? Call the police, I will!” He slammed the dooror tried to. One of the burly blokes yanked it open.
“Hinges need oiling,” the man said, cheerful as you please.
Freds chest ached. Lucy, Lucyhow could you?
“Grandad, will you live with us now?” the boy asked.
“Not on your life. And neither will you!” He snatched up photo albumswedding pictures, Lucys childhood drawings.
“Need to ring the previous owner,” one woman said. “Tom, shut the door, the drafts a nightmare.”
“Previous owner? Who?!”
“Grandad, whyre you cross?” The boy offered a sweet.
“Ta, lad. Why wont they listen?”
“Dunno,” the boy shrugged. “They dont listen to me either.”
They rang someoneLucy? Good. Shed explain. Shed fix this.
But when she arrived, she swept right past.
“Lucy! Love” He hurried after her. “Lucy, Im here!”
“She cant hear you, grandad,” the boy said.
“Eh?”
“See?” The boy turned to Lucy. “Mum, dyou see this grandad?”
“Tom, enough! Go to your room.”
The boy looked at Fred. “Told you.”
“But… you see me?”
“Yeah.”
“Ask herask if she remembers the seaside. The ice cream she dropped, cried for hours.”
The boy relayed it. Lucy froze.
“Or when she hid in the apple tree, scared of next doors terrier? Or that time she punched Darren Brown for pulling her hair?”
Lucys face crumpled.
“Thats Dad. He called me thatpumpkin. Where is he, Tom?”
“Here. He says… he loves you. Always will.”
The room fell silent. Women wept; men wiped their eyes.
“A miracle,” someone whispered.
Lucy sat on the bench, the boy beside her, whispering.
“Dad…” the boy said softly. “Gotta go now.”
“Daddy?” She hugged the boy tight.
“Gone,” the boy said. “But hes close. Ohand Annies having a boy.”
“What? The scan said girl! Annies in hospital now”
Her phone rang. “Hello? A boy? But… they said… Oh. Oh!”
She stared at the sky.
“Thanks, Dad. And goodbye.”
