Granddad is Gone
So, you know, Jane had just got back from yet another work trip. She hadnt even had a chance to change out of her suit or unpack her bag when her phone rang. It was her mum.
You could tell straight away from Susans voice that something was off. But Jane, half dead with exhaustion, didnt think much of it.
Mum, Ive just walked through the door. Finally home, she said, dropping her coat by the door. Is everything alright?
Susan gave that sort of, Good, good, Im glad youre home reply, but Jane could feel there was something behind it. She could practically picture her mum fiddling with the phone cord (even though its 2024 and no one has phone cords, you get what I mean)dragging things out, not quite sure where to start.
Jane thought, Oh lord, probably some village gossip again. Mums got a scoop and cant wait to spill. But today, she could barely keep her eyes open, let alone listen to chatter about who was spotted at Tesco with whom.
Shed spent the previous night on a train to London from Manchester (her work sent her everywhere), and in the next carriage, thered been this lotfour blokes, already boozy before sunset, then belting out songs after midnight, guitars and all. They even sang her name, believe it or not. Oh Jane, come out onto the hillside, to the tune of some old folk ballad. Normally, Jane wouldve laughed, but she wanted to rip the strings off that guitar that night.
Mum, let me recover a bit and call you back? I look a fright and I need a cup of tea before I can listen to a single story, okay? she tried to bargain.
But her mum just let out a sigh. Im afraid you wont be able to rest today.
Something in that tone stopped Jane in her tracks. Sorry, what do you mean?
Theres no more resting for you, love. I know youve been up and down the country all week, but thereswell Jane, granddads gone.
The world went very still. Jane dropped onto the sofa, phone pressed tightly to her ear. Shed not been ready for that. Not at all.
Mum, what happened? He was fine! I saw him at Christmashe was up and about, making me eat two roast dinners she stammered.
Susan explained quietly, His neighbour, Mrs. Mary Fletcher, nipped round this morning with some milk. She found him by the front door, hand over his heart. He mustve gone in the night. Laid there til she turned up We need to go to the village for the funeral, love. His neighboursll help, but I cant, Jane. I promised him, remember? He didnt want to see me again, not even at the funeral.
Jane just mumbled, Yeah and stared at the letter that still sat unopened on her little tablea letter with granddads handwriting, postmarked a month ago. She had missed it because shed been away on a job in Bristol. That was her third work trip in six months. They always sent Jane for everythingthe others always seemed to have a reason not to go: kids, bad backs, whatever. She was the only one always free, always single, supposedly carefree.
Susan rambled on, Can you go, darling? I just cant face that house, not after what he said And he willed you everything anyway, well whats left. Im not setting foot there. But Jane, people will talk if not a single family member shows up
Jane, eyes swimming, just nodded quietly.
Of course Ill go, Mum
She placed granddads letter back down, her hand shaking. How? How did this even happen? He seemed so well the last time. Never complained
Her mum just tutted. Well, love, he was well into his eighties. A lot of men these days dont even get to retire. Your granddad, he did alright.
Jane had always been the only one to keep up with her granddad. The other familythe lot on her dads sidestopped talking to him ages ago. And as for her mumSusan and granddad never could get on. Hed never forgiven her for Dad, for pushing him to work himself to deathliterally, making him hop from one odd job to another after quitting teaching, just for the money for house upgrades and that endless new conservatory Susan had wanted.
After losing her husband so suddenly, Susan couldnt bear the sight of Janes granddadit was mutual. Harsh things said, lines drawn.
And yet, through all that, Jane and her granddad kept in touch. When she was a kid, shed spend school summer holidays with him, feeding the ducks and clambering over his creaky shed. When she grew up, they wrote each other letters, real old-fashioned ones, because Granddad John never had time for phones, tabletsnone of it. He was stubborn that way. The rest of the family thought him a bit batty for it, and so did half the village.
Lost his marbles, the local pensioners would mutter as they gossiped by the post office. Lost his wife, then his sonits enough to tip anyone.
Even Mrs. Fletcher, the neighbour, began to wonder when granddad started talking to cats. Well, not even real catsas far as anyone knew, no one had ever laid eyes on it. But hed chat away at length about Shadow, the cat, and thats what he wrote about in his last letter too. Jane thought it oddGranddad had never liked animals. She wondered if it was loneliness, or if something was really wrong.
The days after the funeral were as dreary as youd expect. The local men lowered the DIY coffin into the earth, the mourners all did the thingflowers, memories, awkward silencesand afterwards, the remaining few went to the pub for a wake, drinking warm ale and telling stories about granddad. It was comforting, in a way. Jane sat there, mostly silent, thinking Is that it? Granddad was here, and now hes not?
When everyone trailed away, Jane wandered his house alone. She aired out the rooms, scrubbed the kitchen (the smell of dust and old tea clinging to everything), and tidied up, knowing it would be a long while before anyone else did. She made herself a cup of tea with dry mint leaves she found in a jar, then sat under the big apple tree in his garden, listening to the birds, feeling very small.
She called her mum. I did it, Mum. Said goodbye.
Susan sighed, He was difficult, Jane, but a man all the same.
He was just lonely, Mum. Thats all. I wish you could forgive him. He loved Dad so much. Half the stuff he saidhe didnt mean it.
Susan brushed it off with, Oh, let him be, I suppose. Youre alright to stay another couple days out there? Not scared on your own?
No. I took a few days off. Want to breathe a bit before Im dragged back to the office. You sure youre not coming out? Your grandads grave and Dads too are both here, waiting for a visit.
Not for me, love. You know Ive got a million things on, and the gardening season just started. Call me if you need anything though.
That was Susanalways slipping away when a conversation got a bit too much. Jane just smiled and went back inside.
She read granddads letter again. Nearly every line was about a cat called Shadow, whod suddenly appeared and nicked all his milk. Never been a cat about before, he wrote. But this one, hes a clever one. Scared stiff of people, only see him flitting behind the shed. Hope you come soon, Jane; maybe youll coax him out.
Except Jane had never seen any cat around. Neither had Mrs. Fletcher or anyone else in the village. When she asked the neighbour about Shadow, Mary just laughed. Never seen a black cat in these parts, love. Your granddad got lonely, thats all. Used to see him talking, but no cat ever showed up. Maybe it was just the grief talking.
But that night, when a thunderstorm rolled inproper wild, English weather, with thunder roaring and lightning lighting up the old cottageJane lay in bed, sleepless and on edge. And as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a noise at the window, two tiny eyes staring in from outside.
Suddenly, there was a flurrysomething black and soaked scooted in through the window and darted under the bed. It was Shadow, real as you like, trembling and sodden.
Jane spent ages coaxing him out from under the bed, gently drying him with an old tea towel, then snuggled him up on the end of her bed. They lay there in the dark, the storm raging on, keeping each other warm. To her, it felt like a blessinga tiny link to granddad, comfort when she needed it most.
In the quiet that followed, Shadow became her little friend. The sun rose, the storm passed. When she tried to keep him inside for breakfast, he nearly clawed the windowpane with urgency, insisting on his morning round. Jane told him softly, Alright, friend. Breakfast first, then you choosestay with me, stay here, or come back to the city. But Id love it if youd come home with me. Im sure granddad would have wanted that.
When Jane finally stepped onto the cottage porch with her suitcase, ready to catch the coach back to London, there was Shadow, waiting, rubbing against her legs, eyes bright. Hed chosen to stay with her.
Before she left, she dropped Mrs. Fletcher the keys. Would you mind keeping an eye on the place? she asked, Shadow cradled in her arms. The old lady gawped. So he was real! Well, Ill be. I thought your granddad Jane just smiled, thanked her for the leftover scones, and promised to visit again.
On the bus, Shadow curled up on her lap, and when Jane glanced out the window, she saw a cloud shaped like her granddads facewarm, kind, even giving her a wink. Maybe it was her imagination, but it made her feel less alone, as if granddad was saying, Its alright, love. Im still with you.
And that, I think, is the best any of us can hope for. What stays behind is love, and memories, and every now and thena black cat, quietly claiming you as his own.
