Grandad is Gone
Jessica had just returned from yet another business trip. She hadn’t even had time to take off her shoes or unpack her suitcase before her mother called.
Her mum, Margaret Brown, sounded anxious on the phone. But Jessica, exhausted as she was, didn’t think much of it.
Probably just another long day, she told herself.
Jess, love, are you home now?
Hi Mum. Yes, Ive just got in. Literally just walked through the door. Why, whats up? Is something the matter?
Thats good. Im glad youre home.
Jessica could tell her mother wanted to say something but was skirting around the subject. Whether Margaret didnt know where to start or just couldnt bring herself to say it, Jess couldnt be sure.
Shes probably got some more gossip from the whole street and cant wait to share it with me thought Jessica, but she really just wanted to collapse onto her bed and finally get a decent nights sleep, considering she hadnt managed any on the train.
A group of four rowdy lads had been in the next carriage, drinking and singing all night.
And after midnight, they put on a full-blown concert. Guitars, belting out old songs.
One song, bizarrely, name-checked her:
She walked down Orchard Lane,
The apple blossoms falling in the rain,
There stood Jessica by the river,
On that high and lonely hill
Had Jess been in a better mood, she might have laughed about it. But all she wanted, then, was for the guitar strings to snap. Of course, they didnt.
Mum, Im going to rest for a bit and get myself cleaned up. I promise Ill call you later and we can have a chat, alright?
Im afraid that wont be possible, her mum sighed.
Sorry, what? What do you mean, not possible? Only then did Jessica notice how strange her mothers voice sounded.
You wont get any rest, love.
And why not? Ive just come back from a work trip, surely Im due a break. Im not expecting anyone, and I dont have plans. Or is there something I should know about? Youre not about to turn up at mine unannounced, are you?
Jess, Grandad is gone
Jessica went white, clutching her phone as she slowly sat down on the sofa. She hadnt expected that at all.
His neighbour, Mary Evans, called me this morning. She stopped in as she always does to bring him a pint of milk, and there he was On the doorstep, hand on his chest, not breathing. Been there all night, I suppose. So Well have to go down to the village for the funeral. The neighbours will help outthey always do. Jess, are you listening?
Jessica was so stunned that she couldnt find her words. Eventually, she managed a barely-whispered Mmhm.
Mrs Evans phoned his other relatives, but they outright refused to come for the funeral. Told her that if hed left them an inheritance, maybe theyd think about itbut whats the point spending money and time otherwise? As for his house, well, you know no ones cared for that old place in decades. Margaret paused and then pressed on, Ill be honest, I dont fancy going down there either, given that Grandad told me himself he didnt want to see me at his housenot even for the funeral. And I promised him. So its all on you, love. Youll go, wont you, Jess? See him off on his final journey?
The line went silent. Jessica stared at the letter from her grandad, still unopened, on the side table. The last letter, postmarked a month ago, sent just before she left for her trip.
It had been her third trip in six months, and not the last one either. Her company had opened a new branch in another city, and she was the only employee they kept sendingeveryone else had children, health problems, or family issues. She was the only one with no strings attached.
Jess? Margarets voice broke the silence, I just dont want the neighbours thinking we forgot about him. He could be difficult, but he was still a person. And you always got on with him better than the rest of us. So what should I tell Mrs Evans? Will you go down to the village?
Yes, Mum. Of course Ill go. Just
Jessica walked over and picked up the letter from her grandad, turning it over in her hands before putting it back down.
Mum, I dont understand how this could have happened. Grandad was fine when I saw him at Christmas. He looked sprightly and didnt complain about anything.
Jess, darling, I dont know He was getting on a bit. Most men his age never make it that far; your grandad made it well into his seventies. Thats quite a stretch. We cant grumble. Bless him, may he rest in peace.
Jessica was still reeling. She truly loved her grandadshe might have been the only one still keeping in touch with him. His other relatives hadnt spoken to him for ages, nor had her mum, for that matter.
Her mum and Grandad never liked each other muchtheir mutual dislike had lasted years. He could never forgive her for Andrews death, always blaming her for pushing his only son (Jessica’s father) to early exhaustion, which, as Margaret put it, is why so many men dont make it to retirement.
She did, in fact, persuade her husband to quit teaching and take up shifts for better payshe wanted the flat done up, a bit of country on the side, and, well, a more comfortable life. Andrew worked all hours to make it happen, gone for months but returning with gifts and cash.
But once, he just didnt come back. His heart couldnt take it.
Grandad wept at the funeralhowled, even. Everyone agreed: Parents arent supposed to bury their children.
After that, he stopped seeing Margaret and told her never to set foot in his house again.
Well good! Margaret had spat at the time. Im not to blame, and if hed any sense hed see that. A mans job is to provide. Its what men do. If he had a bad heart, he never mentioned it. How was I supposed to know?
It was all Jessica could do to keep the peace. But Grandad loved his granddaughter above all else, and the feeling was mutual.
When she was at school, Jessica would stay with him every summer. Once grown and busy with work, she wrote him letters instead.
Yes, letters. Grandad had never taken to modern technologyno mobiles, tablets, laptops, nothing.
Perhaps thats why his relatives lost touch; who, in this day and age, writes letters? Why bother, when you can call or text? People thought him a tad odd. Some locals did too.
Lost his marbles, bless ‘im, the old ladies on the bench would say. No wonder, after losing his wife and son. Who wouldn’t?
In the last month of his life, villagers became more convinced he was losing it. Even Mrs Evans, his fiercest defender, was starting to wonder.
Hed started talkingoftennot to neighbours, not to himself, but to a cat. Only, nobody had ever seen this cat.
How could you not worry?
After the phone call, Jessica threw her phone onto the bed, staring into space before bursting into tears.
Shed wanted to visit Grandad that summer but never managed it. At first, she had plans to go in the spring, but work trips kept cropping upone after another.
Her boss, not the most considerate of men and always with that wry smile, would only say:
According to company policy, Jessica, Im well within my rights. If you dont like it, nobodys forcing you to stay. You could always hand in your noticegood luck finding another job with this salary.
Truth be told, the pay was very good, so she put up with it.
Eventually, the trips would slow down and shed settle back to her own routine.
But it stung, deep down. Surely people should be treated like people, not machines. She had a right to a life outside of work. Even if, in reality, she didnt actually have one.
*****
At the cemetery, tradition played itself out: silence fell as the last nail was driven into the plain wooden casket, deep red velvet on the lid. With ropes, the men lowered Grandad into the grave.
Just a few handfuls of earth left to throw, and the men would fill the rest back in.
Fresh flowers, wreaths, a freshly dug grave. Can this really be it? thought Jessica. A moment ago, Grandad was herenow hes just gone?
Not quite. There was still the wake: plenty of whisky, plenty of toasts and good stories told about the old man.
And, through these storiesat the wake and in the memories that would followGrandad would live on. Not in the flesh, but in the thoughts of those who remembered him.
At last, when the whisky and food were gone, folk drifted away. Some home, some to the shop.
And so, Jessica found herself quite alone. The loneliness, raw and heavy, pressed in.
I didnt make it in time… I didnt get to see Grandad before he left for good she sighed.
Needing a distraction, she set about tidying up.
She flung open the windows, scrubbed the old wooden floors, dusted every surface, swept cobwebs from the ceiling, put away the leftovers.
Breathing was easier after that.
Grandads solid, roomy house seemed cosier than ever, humble but warm.
Out the window, the sun was setting, so she ventured outside. The allotment was just an ordinary patch of garden, really.
Neat, tidy bedsbare this year. Grandad hadnt planted anything, perhaps knowing his time was coming and not wanting to leave it unfinished.
The apple trees were ablaze with blossom, and the currant and raspberry bushes were in full leaf. Grandad had never let the land go to waste, always keeping it spick and span.
Wholl look after all this now, I wonder? Jessica thought.
Sitting on the bench under the apple tree, she rang her mum and told her shed seen Grandad off.
Well done, Jess. He was still a person, after all.
He was a good man, Mum. He just suffered too much. Dont hold on to anger, yeah? He loved Dad more than anything. Thats why he said all those things to you.
Oh Jess Let bygones be bygones. May he rest easy. When are you heading home, then? Today, tomorrow? Must be a bit eerie staying there on your own.
Im not leaving today or tomorrow. Got some time off work, and I want a few days peace here in the village. Its quiet, and besides its been nine days now since he passed. Wont you come down?
Oh, heavens, Jess, I cant go all that way. I havent got the time. Dont forget its prime season for the allotment!
Fine, suit yourself. But Dads grave is here too, and you havent visited once since the funeral.
I did try to tell Grandad Andrew should be buried in the city, not out in the sticks. But he wouldnt have it. Now, darling, my programmes starting. Call if you need anything.
Jessica smiled. Her mum was always finding an excuse to hang up when the conversation got uncomfortable.
Back inside, Jessica brewed herself a cup of tea with mint and lemon balm from Grandads cupboards. She drank, then headed to bed.
But she couldnt resist pulling out Grandads letter. Shed read it on her first day backbut it left her feeling odd.
Usually, Grandad wrote about himself, but this time, he rambled on about some cat.
Jessica had never known him to keep pets. He wasnt that sort of man.
So she read the letter again, hoping for clarity.
Hes called Shadow, Jessturns out he loves milk. I heard adult cats shouldnt drink milk at all, but Shadow polished off half a bottle yesterday. Ill have to ask Mary to bring more tomorrow; shell be surprised. Usually, three pints last me a whole week, and now Im running out faster than I can say cat. Hes always hungry. My fridge is near empty as it is. The funny thing is, hes still hiding from me. Ive only seen a flash of black as he darts for the shed. I look for him day and night, cant spot him anywhere. But I can feel his eyes on me all the time. Cats eyes. I cant wait for you to come, love. Maybe you can coax him out, or well manage together. I swear, people must have been cruel to the poor chap; now he avoids them at all costs.
That was just a snippet. Yet, Jessica had spotted no sign of a catnot in the house or garden. And shed been there several days.
Although, that curious feeling of being watchedthe same Grandad describedshed felt it too. Shed even turned around more than once.
Ill ask Mrs Evans about Shadow in the morning
*****
Jessica woke at dawn.
Pale shafts of light filtered in behind the curtains; sparrows chattered outside, and noisy cockerels proclaimed the arrival of another village morning.
She opened the window wide, closed her eyes, and listened to all these rural sounds again.
She remembered her childhood visits, building birdhouses with Grandad. And she remembered to visit Mrs Evans about the cat.
What cat? Mary Evans looked baffled.
Im not sure myself, sighed Jessica. Shadow, apparently. He never mentioned him in April, but in his last letter he wrote of nothing else.
Oh! said Mary, smacking her forehead. Yes, I remember. Last month he started talking to a cat. I walked by and heard him, coaxing it out to show itself. I peered over the fencehe was all alone. Same thing happened next day. Seemed every day hed be telling his invisible friend about his life; his wife, his son, all of it. And yes, always calling it Shadow. Others heard too, walking by. But, see here, nobody ever saw a cat in that garden. Nor in the house. I was in and out most daysmilk, a few cakes, a quick brew. Asked him about it; he just waved me off, joking hed show me when he caught it. Honestly, I think he went a bit funny towards the end. Youd have noticed a cat if there was one, wouldnt you?
I suppose so Jessica replied thoughtfully. But Grandad was sharp as anything. There must be something we dont know. Or maybe Shadow really is just the worlds best at hiding. Any black cats missing around here?
Not that I know of. And not a single person here owns a black cat, for that matter.
Jessica went back to the house and carried on cleaning, but her mind kept returning to the mysterious cat in her grandads letter.
Very odd, she mused. If there was a cat, what happened to it?
Meanwhile, hidden in the bushes, a pair of bright yellow eyes watched her closelythe very same black cat.
Hed noticed her at onceof all the people wandering around for days, she was the only one he felt drawn to. There was something familiar about her.
Perhaps, he thought, she simply reminded him of Grandad, whod fed him milk and treats those last months.
He still kept his distance, but always kept her in sight.
And Grandad had been rightShadow had learned to be wary of people. Theyd made his early life hell, and he bore the scars: poked, chased, stones and sticks thrown at him. He moved from one village to another, always hoping to find a true home.
Thats how hed met Grandad, who seemed unlike other people. Kind, bright eyes, and gentle voice; Shadow could have listened to him for hours, and did.
Shadow stayed near, listening as Grandad poured out his heart from the bench under the apple tree or pottered about the garden.
Yet, he never dared to come closer. And when he finally might have, Grandad was gone.
Shadow sensed itthat strange smell lingering on the wind. He darted to the door, but it was locked. Dashed to the windows, also closed. He couldn’t get inside. He kept vigil all night, crying quietly by the steps.
Now, he watched Jessica. He could sense she had a good heart. As gentle as Grandads.
But he still didnt dare to trusthis bitter experience held him back.
Once, though, he got distracted, and Jessica caught sight of him, on the ninth day since Grandads death.
That day, the house was again bustling. Shadow kept himself low, hidden. But as people trickled away, he relaxed too soon, and Jessica finally spotted him.
So its you, Shadow! she exclaimed. So Grandad was telling the truth. Come here, lets be friends.
She moved towards him, but he vanished as quickly as hed appeared.
Why so shy, Shadow? she called, looking under hedges. I have to leave tomorrowI wish we could have a proper meeting. Dont be scared, I promise I wont bite.
Mary Evans, carrying a batch of cabbage pasties for Jessicas journey home, heard her chattering out loud and peeked over the fence.
She could see Jessica, but not a sign of any black cat. Shaking her head, she hurried home, forgetting all about the pasties: First the old man was talking to invisible cats, now the granddaughters doing it! Must run in the family
That afternoon, heavy, almost blue-black clouds blotted out the sun.
A tense, menacing silence settled over the fields, broken only by the frantic squawking of Mrs Evans chickens and the distant rumbles of thunder.
Looks like a real storm is coming, Jessica said, looking nervously at the sky.
Indeed, it was more than a storm brewingthis was a full-on squall. Soon, the wind would be howling, and the rain pouring in sheets. No sooner had she thought it than the first fat drops were falling.
She called for the cat, hoping to get him into the house, but he didnt appear.
Shadow, meanwhile, was cowering in his hiding place, ears straining for every crackle from the sky. He was scared, truly scaredof the thunder even more than of people.
*****
The rain drummed ceaselessly on the roof, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Night soon fell; Jessica tossed on her bed, unable to sleep.
Thenwith a bangthe storm struck in earnest.
She sat bolt upright, startled by a blinding flare of lightning and a deafening clap of thunderlouder than shed ever heard.
The curtains flapped wildly in the breeze from the open window, and before she could close it, there it wastwo glowing eyes in the darkness.
Blimey! she gasped, scrambling to the head of the bed.
Something dark and wet darted through the window, zipped under her wardrobe then tinsel-like shot beneath the bed.
Shadow! she realised.
Peeking beneath the bed, she found him there, shivering and soaked, just as Grandad had written.
It took patience, but she coaxed him out, rubbed him dry with a towel, and pulled him onto the bed.
Together, behind the closed window, girl and cat lay warming each other while the tempest raged. Suddenly, the flashes and roars didnt seem so frightening.
*****
Jessica woke to the sound of someone fiddling with the window latch. Of courseit was Shadow.
Sunshine peeked through the curtains. The storm had blown itself out.
Where are you off to, lad? she asked, smiling at the black cat balanced on the windowsill.
Shadow paused, meeting her gaze, almost as if to apologise for his moment of weakness.
Meow-oww, he said, scraping at the window, pleading to be let out.
Not so fast, Shadow. Youre not going anywhere without breakfast. And after well, you can decide what you likestay or come with me. I know Grandad would want you to come. I hope you will. Its your choice, though. I hope you choose well.
She gave him a bowl of food, then let him out, and packed her bag for home. The bus was still a few hours away.
When she finally stepped outside, bag in hand, Shadow was waiting for her on the doorstep.
He stood, looked straight into her eyes, and rubbed against her legs.
Decision madehe was coming with her. For one, she genuinely didnt bite. But, more than anything, it felt right. With her, hed found some comfortand some courage, too.
He was tired of hiding. He wanted a home.
I knew youd come, Jessica smiled. I had a feeling you would.
When Mrs Evans saw Jessica with the cat in her armsshed popped round to hand back the keysshe was astonished.
That thats the cat?
The one and only, Jessica nodded. So you see, no need to talk nonsense about Grandad. He was all there, just happened that Shadow was very, very shy. He was afraid of peoplebut more afraid of thunderstorms, as it turns out. But hell be fine now.
Well oo-er And there was me thinking your Grandad had lost his wits completely! Youll look in on the house every now and then, wont you?
Of course. Or rather, we willShadow and me. I cant say how often, but well be back.
Thats good to hear. And here, take these for your journey. She handed Jessica a bag of pasties.
Thank you, Mrs Evans. For everything.
On the bus home, Jessica watched the clouds from her window, just for an instant thinking she saw her grandads face among them.
Even Shadow, perched in her lap, pressed his nose to the window and peered at the sky.
That kind face beamed at them, perhaps even winked.
Then the bus rumbled off, and the cloud vanished. Even if it was only their imagination, it didnt matter.
Jessica knew for certainGrandad hadnt truly left them. He lived on in her heart, and perhaps in Shadow as well. No matter where he was, he would be glad that his granddaughter and his secret, forlorn friend had finally found each other.
And as I close this page, the lesson is clear: Never put off being with those you care about. In the end, its those small gestures, those connections, and the courage to trust again that matter most.
