Live a Little Longer, Granddad
The large, empty flat with high ceilings, curtains drawn up and resting on the windowsill, exposed radiators and pipes, all smelled of dust.
James had taken the keys from the neighbours. He walked through the rooms, glanced into the bathroomstunned by both its size and state of neglectthen wandered into the spacious lounge, opened the balcony, and settled into a wide armchair.
This really was an exceptional flat. Even better than hed anticipated. How many rooms were there? The neglect was atrocious, making the idea of living here seem almost impossible.
He sat for a while, then went to the window and looked into the courtyard below, uncertain. He knew that in London, parking was tight, and perhaps hed taken someone elses spot. As of now, his Ford was alone, and there was still plenty of space. Hed best pop down and fetch his bag soon.
Hed be staying in this flat for just over a monthhis holidaysharing it with another person.
The thought of cleaning it up in a couple of days had quickly faded in the face of the sheer scale of the mess. Tall, arched windows with desiccated plants in pots, heavy curtains with dust-clogged ruffles, a rusty orange bathtub and corroded pipes.
The ceiling boasted ornate plasterwork, though most of it was cracked, and the grey crystal chandelier was shrouded in a rag, likely an attempt to keep dust off. The parquet flooring was lifting in places. An ancient cooker, round washing machine with manual wringers, and a faded, stained fridgeall needed attention. Dust and grit were everywhere.
He peered into a gloomy study featuring a massive dark desk and bookshelves reaching the ceiling. The room was so dim, he drew back the navy velvet curtains. The desk held a stone pen pot, malachite pens, and a calendar. James checked the date12 January 1995. Time truly had stopped here.
The bedroom felt as unwelcoming. Clothes were spilled out of the wardrobelikely a broken shelf. Curtains were tied up, and the radiators looked burned with age. James opened a drawer, found a delicate jewellery box, lifted the lid, then recoiled.
Blimey! he exclaimed.
The box was overflowing with gold rings, bracelets, chains, earrings, brooches… so much jewellery! Wide bands, heavy segments, amber earrings, and more. The first impulse was to pocket a ring or twowould anyone notice?
But as quickly as the urge came, it left. If the neighbours hadnt taken anything… and what if there was an inventory, or even a camera? He glanced about. Hardlythere wasnt even electricity, it seemed.
He slid the box away, shut the drawer, and flicked the light switch. Nothing. In the hallway he found the fuseboardone click, and he had power.
Well, thats one thing sorted. He set his phone to charge, nipped downstairs for his case, and soon after was sleeping deeply on the squeaky, high landlords bedhed been driving nearly twenty-four hours straight.
***
Hello, is this James Richard Worthington? Have I got through to you? The voice was elderly.
Yes. Thats me. How can I help?
James Richard… Im so glad, so very glad to have reached you. Im Florence Millicent, a carer here. My granddaughter helped me find your number, I never would have… WellYour grandfather is hereLionel Thomas Worthington. James, Jamesy, do let me call you that? Im rather old-fashioned.
Thats fine…
James. You are his only grandchild. Only you. Your granddad. He doesnt say much, hes ill, but hes waiting for you. Desperately waiting… Would you…
Sorryyour name again?
Florence Millicent.
Florence, thank you for your concern, but I dont know him at all. I think youre speaking about my fathers father. But my parents divorced when I was four, I
I know, I do. Your father passed years ago, and your mum only recently, bless her. She used to visit us, you know.
What? Mum? That cant be! You must be mistaken.
No, no, not at all. She passed suddenly, you mustnt have knownperhaps she didnt want to tell you, I dont know… But she was with us, she was. Lovely woman, caring soul. Such a pity
Sorry, are you sure… my mum?
Yes, she visited. James…
Im sorry, are you hoping Ill come see him? I cant, I live far away, and work
Yes, of course. But theres this, you see. Lionel has a flat in London. A big one, I think. There are people pushing him to sign it over to our care homeespecially the deputy manager, nasty sort. Im worried…
Well, let them. Hes hardly family to me. His business, not mine…
She kept talking, as if she hadnt heard him.
But Lionel is almost speechless now. By law, they cant force anythingbut theyll find ways. Hed much rather it went to his grandson. He says you dont need him, but thats not true. Theyll take it otherwise, Jamesy. Propertys so dear these days. All he dreams about is seeing his flat one more time, to live there just briefly. He just wants to go home, you know. Cant walk now, his health is failing. So I started looking for you, and, at last, found you…
Ill think about it. Is this your number?
Yes, yes…
Ill call you back.
It was like something out of a filman inheritance. But James didnt believe it, and had no intention of calling back.
From his mother, hed heard Granddad was an unpleasant man. When his father died, his parents divorce was long past. Even then, his mum had said, Lionel drove his son into an early grave.
So James doubted his mum had ever visited. The only possible reason was the flat. Maybe shed wanted it for him?
You ought to be in London, son… he remembered her drift of dreams for him.
Maybe so. She would have put up with anything for his sake. She really did love him.
A London flat! Well now…
Mum had always said Granddad was a bigwig in the party, that they had an enormous flat in central London. When her husband introduced her, she got lost in its corridors. Never gave details, as family life was short-lived, Mum moved back to her parents in Cambridge. James grew up there. He never thought of his fathers sidehis real family were his mums folks.
Those grandparents were the best he could have wished for. Thanks to them, hed secured a flat in Cambridgethough hed made the mistake of putting his wifes name on the deeds as well. Life went sideways: ten miserable years, then separation. Their daughter grew up with her mother-in-law; his wife wasnt keen on children.
They divided the flat in court. In the end James bought a small annex: a box-room and a tiny kitchen. At the time, it didnt matter where he lay his head, as long as it was somewhere. When he realised he could barely live there, he began saving for a proper place, counting every pennychild support, bills, food, petrol…
But his ex kept calling, demanding money for their daughter, insisting the payments were meagre. He saw his girl regularly, even spoiled her during the holidays in his minuscule flat.
Dad, youll never save for a proper place if you buy so many treats!
Thats a fair point…
But this London flathis mind kept whirring…
After hours laying tiles on his latest job, James rang back.
Florence Millicent? Its James. What exactly does Granddad want? Can you explain it again?
She wasnt surprised by his call. She was glad. She explained that Lionel Thomas Worthington was ill, but dreamed of living out his days in his own home, or at least seeing it once more. He wished to meet his grandson, though hed never admit it aloud. But she understood his longing.
***
If he was honest, Jamess motives for travelling to London were purely selfish. He did not hide it, even from himself.
There, in the flat, gazing at the faded family photos, he saw his grandfather and grandmother for the first time. Granddada stout, pompous man, unpleasant in appearance. But his grandmother looked decent; in her he saw a trace of his own daughter, Tessa.
And tomorrow, hed have to collect this stranger from the care home and bring him hereto this dilapidated place.
James made his way to the kitchen and turned on the gas tap, but a sulphurous smell seeped into the room. Perhaps he should call the gas company, given the place had stood empty for years. Since 95, perhaps? Hed forgotten to ask Florence Millicent how long Granddad had been away.
A timid knock at the doorhis neighbour, the lady from whom hed taken the keys.
I thought, with nothing working, perhaps youd like a cup of tea?
They sat for tea in her spacious, cheerful kitchen.
I didnt collect the keys from your grandfather, it was my late mother-in-law. We moved in later, but shes gone toosos my husband. Now Ive my daughters family here.
How many years has he been in the care home? James asked.
Oh, I couldnt really say. Fifteen, maybe more? Weve been here twelve years ourselves. My mother-in-law watered his plants, tidied the place; but we let it be. Thought surely the owner would never return. Im ill myself, and my daughter is busy with work and the children, you know how it isbarely able to manage our own home.
So you never knew my granddad?
No, only what my mother-in-law said. She respected him, though perhaps was somewhat afraid. Those older folks, they lived in a different world He worked in a ministry, while were ordinary people. The flat was won by my mother-in-laws father, he was a sea captain. Theres some family history there, but I dont remember much now.
Do you have the number for the gas company? Id like to have things checked.
Yes, Ill find it. Going to bring him home, then? How old is he now?
Not sure. I only just found out he was still alive. Yes, I think Ill bring him. Its his wish. But only for a month or sowhile Im on leave.
She looked at him with some doubt.
Elderly can be difficult, you know. So long as hes still with it, thats the main thing
***
James didnt see the gas engineers that dayan emergency called them off elsewhere. He decided to get some lunch in a café, buy cleaning materials, and stock the fridge.
He called Florence and they arranged for him to collect his grandfather the following day. She busied herself with the arrangements, insisted he neednt bring anything, and that theyd pack Granddad up for the trip.
James didnt really know what she was on abouthed collect Granddad with his personal things, that was all. What more did an old man need? Food, perhapstheyd sort it out.
Early the next morning, James drove out to a country care home, or more accurately, an old peoples home. Granddad might refuse to come, in which case at least theyd meet.
Self-interest prickled. Perhaps a single meeting would awaken grandfatherly feelings. Old people get sentimental, after all. Maybe hed look at his only grandson and decide to leave the flat to him. Although, with such prowling businessmen as Florence mentioned, hed be hustled out of it in a heartbeat. But if the grandson turned up, there was hope.
James was clinging to the chance this trip may not be in vain. The likes of such a flat were the stuff of dreams. Towards this man he felt nothing at all. If nothing came of it, at least hed tour London, see a new gallery, hit some electronics and hardware shops, then return home. A shame about the cost, but…well. Miracles didnt happen, and he shouldnt expect one.
The care home was smalljust one long, two-storey building. The grounds were well-tended, complete with security and flower beds and benches. James was impressed.
He was more impressed to find theyd been expecting him. A thin, older woman with untidy curlsFlorence Millicentmet him almost at the door.
Hello, James Richard. I am a bit nervous. Youll need to see the Director, but dont say a word about me, please. Tell them your granddad rang and asked you to collect him himself. He doesnt speak much, but he can manage that much. Theyll want you to take him home.
Florence, did he really ask? This isnt James was uneasy.
Of course! Thats not in doubt. Now hurry alongtheyre waiting for you. Have you your birth certificate?
The Director called in the house doctor. They discussed Lionel Thomas Worthingtons health at length, insisting it would be a hard slogboth physically and mentally. Jamess one thought was, They want to nick the flat.
No, Ill take him home. Well manage, he said, acting as if this was his collective decision, trying to sound resolute and efficient.
Well, as you wish, sighed the doctor, looking at him with something like sympathy. All the paperwork will take an hour. You can meet your grandfather meanwhile.
James nodded, feigning confidence. Florence had crossed herself and told him to wait in the corridor.
He was contemplating the notice boards and plants when suddenly, an ancient, frail man whizzed past in an electric wheelchair at surprisingly high speed. James was startledit looked as though someone was operating it by remote control. The chair abruptly stopped, turned around, and rolled right up to him.
The local sprinter, James thought. Surely they have them here, even?
The old man gripped the control lever with his right hand. The wheelchair seemed much too big for him; he leant heavily to the right, clad in a black tracksuit with hand-knitted woollen socks and a grey cap. His face was shrivelled and brown as a baked applecheeks scabbed, chin stubbled, nose shiny red.
James turned to look for help. A young nurse with two large bags approached.
Mr. Worthington, I told you to wait, she said crossly, went up to the old man, buckled his seatbelt, and covered his knees with a blanket.
He settled straighter in the chair but paid her no mind, fixing his gaze on James.
It dawned on Jamesthis must be his granddad. The man in the portraitsfull, dignified, portlynothing like this. James stared at his hands, brown, mottled, almost not alive, like theyd been carved from wood.
Hello, James tried.
Granddad continued staring but did not respond.
Florence is packing your thingspads and such, though he refuses to wear them. Weve tried everything… the nurse informed James as if the old man wasnt there. Whatever you do, dont let him race around on this. While hes ours, hes our responsibility. Take your time, youll be waiting anyway.
She left, and James was at a loss. Granddad sat with his head tilted, staring at nothing, at the spot where James had just been. James took the wheelchair handles, turned him round, and rolled outside.
He wasnt sure whether Granddad could understand or even hear him. They went on in silence. After a while, James stopped and sat down in front of his grandfather.
Well, Granddad. Ive come. Florence found me, James looked for a sign, but the old man stared at his own hand gripping the arm of the chair. Still, James felt sure his grandfather could hear. Do you really want to leave this place? It seems nice enough, doesnt it? Do you?
No reaction.
Do you hear me at all? Eh? He spoke louder, but there was still nothing. James lowered his head. Deaf, are you? Well, that figures…
The old mans eyes stayed lowered, but a corner of his mouth twitcheda suppressed smile.
Aha. Jamess eyebrows rose. He got an idea and moved out of sight, then shouted, Reverse!
The chair shot backwards, nearly hitting James, who jumped aside.
Stop! The chair did, obediently. Head towards those swings, James pointed.
But Granddad hesitated, then his chair spun and tore off in the opposite direction down the path. James ran through the flowerbeds, chasing, and grabbed the handles.
Steady on! Whoa, there, he panted, out of breath. He wouldnt be bored with this old man.
As he wheeled his granddad around, Jamess doubts grew. Only now did he appreciate the burden he was taking on. What did he know of caring for the nearly mad and very ill? Nothing. The paperwork would be shoved under his nose, and hed sign up for responsibility.
Should he return now and explain he couldnt cope, that hed overestimated himself? The thought was tempting.
But what about the flat? Hed lose it. Better to try. Florence had said Granddad just wanted to live there awhile, just a month. He could manage a month. Although… was it too late? Was there a will? Where were the deeds?
The nurse returned, and James signed out Granddad and his belongings.
Take all his documents? Its not permanent…
Yes.
He signed for each: the passport, NHS card, notebook, savings book, property deeds, moreeach needing his signature. Everything was to be returned intact. He was told Granddad had been declared mentally incapable five years agoso no legal action could be taken by him. Social services would check up on them.
No will among the papers. There were four bags; the wheelchair barely fit in the boot. The old man was settled in the passenger seat.
Dont push pads on him, hell get angry, Florence advised, eyes tearing up. He cant stand porridge, hates blended food, mustnt eat too much meat. Its all there, in the doctors notes. He can manage the toilet himself, but heaven knows how hell get on at home. Help him and hell snap. Hell fight off injections, hates being held down. I wrote it all for you… Call me whenever you want, day or night, Im like family to him now.
The gates closed behind them; tearful Florence waved as James drove away.
All the time, James was trying to decipher what the Director had meant about Granddads incapacity. He wasnt clued up on legal matters and would need advice. The question of the flat was foremost in his mind.
But Granddadthe old, broken manwhat could he want with all this?
James glanced over; the old man leant against the window, gazing ahead as the grey road rolled through the English countryside.
Its all right. Perhaps without outsiders, things will be easier. Well manage! James thought, pressing the accelerator.
As they headed home, James couldnt help but reflect on how life often presents challenges in unexpected ways. Sometimes, what starts as self-interest brings us face to face with our own compassionand maybe, in caring for others, we discover a new sense of purpose ourselves.
