Lets get a baby on the double, granny Margaret croaked as she swung her legs off the bed. At eightyseven shed long since forgotten what that felt like, but her grandson Charlie and greatgrandson Tom kept pestering her, occasionally tapping her with a wooden cane: If you stay stuck in those blue slippers youll just be reminiscing about being a granny, and itll be too late.
Now Margaret was downcast, refusing to rise, snapping at everyone (Why did I raise you lot to sleep till noon?), and rattling pots at half past six. The household grew uneasy.
Fiveyearold greatgranddaughter Evelyn asked, Grandma, why dont you swear at us any more? Margaret sighed, Im about to kick the bucket, love, Im on my last leg, murmuring about dying, perhaps with a hint of hope beyond the roast dinner they can no longer manage.
Evelyn bolted to the kitchen where the relatives were huddled. She blurted, Grandmas hedgehog has died! The head of the family, also Margarets eldest son Victor Harding, raised his bushy eyebrows. He looked like a character out of an old folk tale, the sort the wind would gossip about through the hedgerows. Probably just an old thing, Evelyn shrugged. Shed never seen the hedgehog, so she couldnt know.
The next day a composed GP paid a visit. She seems a bit off, he said. Victor snapped, Obviously, otherwise wed have called you! The doctor paused, then looked at Victors wife, Sarah. Agerelated, he declared matteroffactly. I see no serious abnormalities. What are the symptoms? Sarah, voice trembling, replied, She stopped telling me how to boil the kettle and when to set the table! All her life she poked my nose, saying my hands werent proper, and now she wont even step into the kitchen. Sarah herself was now a granny too.
At the familydoctor meeting they agreed it was a worrying sign. Exhausted by worry, everyone collapsed into bed as if theyd fallen into a ditch.
In the night Victor woke to the familiar shuffling of slippers. This time it wasnt the urgent rise and shine summons. He whispered, Mum? A dry voice answered from the darkness, Well He asked, What now? She muttered, I think Ill slip out for a date with Mick Yates while you lot are snoring. He flicked on the kitchen light, boiled the kettle, and slumped at the table, head in hands. Hungry? Margaret asked from the corridor. Ive been waiting for you. What was that, mum? She shuffled to the table. Ive been cooped up in my room for five days when a pigeon smacked the windowbang! I thought that was a death omen. I lay there waiting, day after day, and this morning I woke in the dead of night and thought, Maybe that omen should have gone off to the woods to chase the devil, so I could burn through life under the blankets. Make us a strong cup of tea, nice and hot. Three days with you, son, we havent had a proper chat; well catch up.
Victor finally drifted off at half past five in the morning, while Margaret stayed in the kitchen, determined to rustle up breakfast herself, because otherwise the little ones with their pale hands wouldnt manage a proper meal.
