Granddad is Gone
Catherine had barely returned from yet another business tripshe hadnt even taken her coat off or unpacked her suitcase when her mother rang.
Larissa Greens voice on the line was tense, but Catherine didnt think much of it. She was bone-tired.
Cathy, sweetheart, are you home yet?
Hi, Mum. Yes, just got in. Barely stepped through the door. Is something wrong, or?
Oh, good. Im glad youre home.
Catherine sensed her mother wanted to say more but was dithering, unsure of where to start, or perhaps unwilling. Probably, Catherine thought, her mother had merely scooped up all the local gossip again and was dying to share it. She just wasnt in the mood for the usual village drama.
More than anything, Catherine wanted to collapse onto her bed and finally get some sleep, especially after a sleepless night on the train. Her compartment had been next to a group of young men whod started singing the moment they boarded and didnt stop, turning the place into an impromptu concert after midnight, accompanied by a battered guitar.
They even sang a tune with her name, their voices ringing through the thin walls.
Had she been in a better mood, she might have found it funny, but last night she wished more than anything for those guitar strings to just snap.
Mum, can I rest a bit? Freshen up, and then call you back later? We can have a good natter, all right?
Im afraid you wont have a chance, Cathy, her mother sighed.
Whatwhat do you mean?
You wont get to rest, love.
And why ever not? For the first time she noticed her mothers voice was off, subdued somehow.
Ive just come back from a work trip, Mum. I deserve a break. I havent invited anyone, and Im not planning any visits myself! Or is there something Ive missed? Dont tell me youre planning to drop in unannounced?
Cathy. Granddads gone
Catherine went pale, clutching the phone to her ear as she slumped onto the sofa. This was something she absolutely hadnt expected.
His neighbour, Mary Ford, rang me this morning. Popped in to give him some milk and found Mr John Smithwell, lying by the door, hand on his chestnot moving, not breathing. He mustve been there all night, poor thing. Im afraid, darling, youll have to come to the village for the funeral. The neighbours will help, if you need. Can you hear me?
Catherine was so stunned she barely managed an almost inaudible, Mm.
Mary rang his other relatives, but they flat refused to come. Said theyd only bother for an inheritance, and that decrepit cottagewell, no ones needed it for a hundred years. As for me, honestly, Ive no desire to go to that village myself, especially since your granddad told me not to set foot in his house again, funerals included. Remember, I promised him? So, love, its up to you. Can you go, Cathy? Give the old man a proper send-off?
Larissa went quiet. So did Catherine, her gaze drifting to her bedside table, where her granddads last letter layposted a month ago, though she hadnt been home to collect it between business trips.
This was her third trip in half a yearthere was no guarantee itd be the last. The company she worked for had just opened a branch in Birmingham, and she was the only one who could be sparedothers had children or health problems or pressing family issues. She was the only one, apparently, with no strings attached.
Cathy, her mothers voice buzzed again, we cant let the neighbours think weve forgotten about him. He was a grumpy old man, yes, but still family. And you got on all right with him. Shall I tell Mary youll come to the village, darling?
Yes, MumOf course, Ill come, Catherine replied, rising from the sofa to touch the envelope. She held it, then put it carefully back.
But I dont understand. How could this have happened? Granddad seemed so well. When I visited at Christmas, he was fine
Love, who can say? He was old, Catherine, lets face it. Most men dont even reach retirement age nowadays, and your granddad had seen over seventy. We really shouldnt complain. May he rest in peace.
Catherine was still in shock. She loved her granddad deeplyprobably the only one in the family whod kept in touch with him. None of John Smiths other relations, nor her mother, had spoken to him in ages.
The reason between her mother and granddad was well known to Catherinetheir mutual antipathy had gone on for years. Hed never forgiven her mum after Catherines dad, Andrew, died early. Granddad blamed her, accused her of working Andrew to deathCatherines father had worked away from home endlessly, first to pay for home repairs, then for a summer house, then simply for the lifestyle Larissa wanted.
Andrew had trained as a teacher but vanished for months at a time, working as a contractor, and always came back laden with gifts and savings. Until one day, he simply didnt come back. His heart had given up from overwork.
Catherine remembered the funeralhow Granddad had howled by the grave. No parent should bury their child, the mourners agreed. And afterward hed told his daughter-in-law never to set foot in his house again.
Go on, then! Larissa had snapped at the time. Not as if I wanted to! And its not my faulthe never said anything was wrong with his heart, not once!
Catherine could recall how her granddad had almost picked up a chunk of wood to throw at her mum that day. From then on, he only kept up with his granddaughter, and Catherine treasured that bond. As a child, shed spent every summer with him, and, as an adult, wrote letters regularly.
Granddad didnt use mobiles, tablets, computersdidnt even like telephones. For that reason, Catherine was his only steady link to the world. Who writes letters in the 21st century? Most found him a bit touched, Catherine thoughtnot only relatives, but some villagers, too. Hes lost his mind, theyd mutter on benchesPoor thing: lost his wife, then his son, what else is left?
And lately, the stories about him talking to a cat started. Not to neighbours, not to himself, but to a catone that no one had ever seen. No trace of it at all. Catherine herself didnt know what to make of this.
After hanging up, Catherine tossed her phone on the bed, stared into space, and finally sobbed. Shed longed to visit Granddad that summer, but work always got in the way. First one trip, then anotherand her boss was never sympathetic.
By law, Catherine Anne, Im allowed to send you, hed smirk. And if you dont like it, youre free to leave. Tell me where youll get another job like thison this salary?
The money was good, Catherine admitted. She put up with a lot for it, thinking her travels would end eventually, and her life would settle. Still, it hurt a bit to be treated like a mere cog, not a person with feelingsor a life of her own.
***
At the village churchyard, everything went on as usual. A final moment of silence, the maroon-clad coffin was lowered, handfuls of earth tossed on top, the flowers and wreaths fresh on the disturbed ground. Was that really it? Catherine wondered. Hed been herenow he was gone.
Of course, there was the customary wake where everyone would reminisce, share a drink, talk kindly about the deceasedkeeping John Smith alive in memory, if not in body.
When the last neighbour had said their piece and the food and spirits had run out, the villagers trickled away for home or errands. Soon, Catherine found herself quite aloneoverwhelmed by loneliness and regret.
She busied herself with housework to keep dark thoughts at bayairing the rooms, scrubbing the century-old floorboards, dusting, brushing away cobwebs, and tidying the leftovers in the kitchen. The air became lighter, and she found herself at ease, despite the old house’s modest decor. Granddads cottage was sturdy and comforting.
Evening approached. Catherine stepped outside, the garden neat, the beds emptyperhaps Granddad had sensed it was time. Fruit trees bloomed, berry bushes thrived. Granddad had never let the land sit idle; he kept it immaculate.
Who will look after all this now? she wondered.
She sat beneath the apple tree and called her mum to say shed done her duty.
Well done, Cathy. He was still a man, whatever else, Larissa admitted.
He was just unlucky, Mum. People can only take so much grief, Catherine sighed. Dont hold it against him. He loved Dad, thats all.
Oh, never mind, Cathy, her mother replied. Im not cross. And when will you be home, darling? Isnt it scary, staying out there all alone?
Not today, not tomorrow. Ive taken some days off to rest here in the village. Bit of peace and quiet for once. I might stay for the nine days at least. Will you visit?
In this weather? All that way? Not a chance, loveand its garden season, you know. Anyway, my shows starting! Ring me if you need me.
Catherine chuckled. Classic Mumthe moment the conversation turned serious, she suddenly had to go.
That evening, she made tea from Granddads store of dried currant leaves, mint, and lemon balm and went to bed. But not before getting out the letter again. Shed already read it on her return, but it stuck with her; not his usual news, but tales of a mysterious black cat called MidnightChernysh in the letter.
Granddad wrote: Imagine, love, Midnight is fond of milk. Folks say grown cats shouldnt drink it but yesterday he drank nearly a whole jug! Ill have to ask Mary for moreshell be surprised. Usually, three pints last a week, but now its gone in a day. But I pay, so she wont mind. Midnights always hungry, my fridges nearly empty. Strangest thinghe still hides from me. Ive barely seen him, just a flash of black by the shed. I can feel his eyes watching me. I hope you come soon, maybe youll manage to catch him. I think people have hurt him, so now hes scared to trust.
But Catherine had found no trace of a catnone in the house, none outside. Maybe tomorrow, she thought, shed ask Mary Ford what Granddad had really meant.
***
She woke at dawn to the sound of sparrows and cockerels, gentle sunlight creeping past the curtainsa typical village morning.
She threw open the window, breathing in the unfamiliar countryside air, remembering her childhoodbuilding birdboxes with Granddadand, now, her curiosity about the invisible cat.
Cat? Mary Ford looked puzzled when Catherine asked next door.
I have no idea, Mary. Midnight, I think he wrotehis last letter was all about this Midnight, but he never mentioned a cat before.
Oh! Mary clapped her forehead. About a month before he died, John started talking to a cat. I heard him, coaxing it to show itself, but I never saw one. He spoke with his invisible friend nearly every day, told it about his life, about his wife and son, called him Midnight. But nobody ever saw a cat! I was in and out with milk and buns and never saw so much as a tail. I asked, hed just joke: Ill show you when I catch him! I reckon the old man lost his marbles, really. Surely, someone would have noticed a black cat around?
I suppose so Catherine said thoughtfully. Granddads mind was sharp, Im sure. Maybe were missing something. Or perhaps he was just a very shy cat. Any black cats gone missing in the village?
None at all, and no one local keeps one, Mary replied.
Catherine returned home and tidied the garden, her thoughts drifting to the phantom cat, her granddads later-life companion. Was there really ever a Midnight?
Little did she know, a black cat watched her from a hidden spot. Of all the people coming and going, he was drawn to Catherine. Something about her was familiar and kind, just like the old man who had given him milk, sausage, and attention.
Midnight always kept his distanceyears of cruelty from humans had made him wary: sticks, stones, shouts. Wandering from one place to another, he longed for a true home. Only Granddads gentle eyes and soft voice had convinced him to stay near.
Hed listened as John Smith poured out his soul. Midnight had planned to finally meet properly one day, but Granddad was suddenly gone. The scent of death was everywhere; the cat had scratched at the door, mewled at the windows, but found no way in. He sat on the step all night, quietly crying.
Now, only Catherine remained, and Midnight sensed her kindness. He watched from afar, not yet ready to appearlife taught him not to trust easily.
Until, on the ninth day, Catherine finally caught a glimpse of him by sheer chance, her making preparations to leave. The cat bolted but she called after him, her voice warm: There you are, Midnight! So you do exist. Come on, lets get to know each other.
But Midnight hadnt dared. He vanished into the bushes again.
That evening, Mary Ford overheard Catherine talking to the cat as she brought over some farewell buns. Peeking over the fence, she saw Catherine searching for someone, but no cat.
Well, I never Mary thought, mildly alarmed. First her grandfather, now her. Is talking to invisible cats contagious?
After lunch, the sky went dark with rumbling clouds. A storm rolled in, the stillness broken by chickens clattering on Marys plot and distant thunder.
Looks like rains coming, Catherine muttered, gazing upwardssuddenly, the first fat drops began to fall.
She called Midnight into the house, but he didnt appear.
The rain lashed the village, the wind shook the windows, and Catherine tossed in her bed, unable to sleep, the thunder rolling directly overhead, lightning strobing through the curtains. Suddenly, as she peered at the window, two glowing yellow eyes met hers. Shrieked, Catherine jumped, as something black and sodden darted through the open window and hid beneath her bed.
It was Midnight.
She coaxed him out with difficulty, bundled him in a towel, and together they waited for the storm to pass, finding comfort in each others warmth.
***
In the morning, sunshine replaced the storm. Catherine woke to the sound of paws at the windowMidnight, eager to go.
Where are you off to, friend? she asked, smiling.
The cat paused, seeming almost apologetic.
Miaow he begged, scratching at the sash.
Oh, not yet. Youre not leaving without breakfast! Afterwards, you can decide: stay or come with me. Granddad would want me to care for youI want to. But you must choose, she told him.
He ate his filland when Catherine left with her suitcase, Midnight was already at the steps, waiting, gazing into her eyes, curling around her ankles.
Hed chosen to come with her. Here was someone kind, someone safebecause of her, hed finally faced his fears, both for storms and for people.
Well done, Midnight, Catherine said, smiling wider than she had in weeks, I had a feeling you would.
Mary Fords eyes widened when Catherine stopped to return the keys and the cat poked his head out from her jacket.
Thats the cat, then?
Thats him, said Catherine. So you see, Granddad was all right in the headMidnight just needed a little more time to trust. But hell be fine now.
Youre a good girl, Cathy. Ill keep an eye on the house till youre back.
Well visit, I promiseboth of us! Catherine replied, taking the bag of buns Mary pressed into her hands.
On the coach to London, Catherine watched the sun break through the clouds; just for a second, she fancied she saw her granddads smiling face in their shapes. Midnight, curled on her lap, gazed out with her.
The face seemed to wink, then vanished, and whether it was real or not no longer mattered. Catherine knew one thing for certain: Granddad hadnt truly gone. He lived on in her memory, her heart, and, through the gentle, trusting black cat, in the kindness both had found at last.
She realised that sometimes life doesnt give us time to say goodbye, but love and compassion always find a way to endure, as long as were open to thema life lesson she would never forget.
