Grandad placed the shopping bag on the little stool in the hallway and didnt take off his shoes straight awayhe paused to listen. From the kitchen came a flustered voice:
Im telling you, it switched on by itself! I didnt even touch it!
He unfastened his shoes, lined them up neatly by the door, and walked through to the kitchen. On the table, between the breadbin and a tub of salt, sat a brand new smart speaker, white as a fresh mug from John Lewis. Next to it were two mobile phones, both on speaker, and the screen of one sparkled with circling dots showing connecting
His son stood at the window, charger cable in hand like it was a smoking gun. His daughter-in-law perched on the edge of the chair and stared at the speaker as if it might start an argument all by itself.
Dad, said his son, not looking round, you havent seen where the Wi-Fi passwords got to, have you? The thing wont work without it.
Grandad remembered where the password was. Ages ago, hed written it in biro on the back of an old electricity bill and tucked it into the battery box in the cupboard, so we dont lose it. But he didnt mention it straight away. Instead, he eyed up the speaker. Its steady white light was calm as a bedside lamp.
What have you got it for, then? he asked.
Its supposed to play music, his daughter-in-law replied. Or put the timer on. And turn the lights off by voice command. But all it does is say cant connect to internet or network error. And last night, it started talking by itself. Gave me a fright.
His son snorted. It was just updating. Thats normal.
Normal, she echoed, packing into that word all sorts of things: I never asked for this, Why do I have to put up with it, and Here you goyou know best, as always.
Grandad sat in his usual spot by the radiator, the place where he peeled apples. On the table lay the instructions: a thin booklet no one had opened, pinned down by a fridge magnet as if it might run off given half a chance.
Did you try following the booklet? he asked.
Its all tiny print, his son grumbled. Everythings done on the app now. Ill check Google.
He fiddled with his phone, the screen blinking with demands: Allow microphone access?, Allow access to contacts? His daughter-in-law pursed her lips.
Why does it need my contacts? Next thing you know itll be making phone calls!
It wont, said his son. Its just for convenience.
Convenient for whom? she muttered.
Grandad picked up the instruction booklet. The paper was sleek, newly pressed, but with no magicjust another brand-new thing. He fished his reading glasses out from their hard case, put them on. The first page had a picture of the speaker with arrows pointing to the buttons.
Pass me the password, will you, he said.
His son wandered off to the hallway cupboard, opened the battery box. Grandad heard him rooting around, muttering.
Trust me, everythings here except the password, his son called.
Its on the electricity bill, Grandad said evenly. Last months.
His son fell silent. A minute later, he returned, holding the paper as if it were prime evidence. His daughter-in-law gave Grandad a looknot quite awe, but something close to grateful surprise. He simply remembered where everything went.
He didnt comment, just read through the instructions to the section on Connecting to Wi-Fi. Then, carefully, he took his son’s phone.
Alright if I? Grandad asked.
His son nodded, but it was clear he felt awkward. Hed always been the techie of the family. Grandad understood, and he wasnt trying to take over. He just wanted a quieter kitchen.
He tapped allow, entered the password, taking his time, checking each character. Grandson, whod been in the other room, wandered in and asked:
Does it really hear everything?
It only listens when you call its name, said his dad.
What if I ask itthe boy lowered his voiceto do my homework?
His daughter-in-law chuckled for the first time all evening.
If only.
The speaker beeped and announced in a neutral tone, Connected. His son shot his eyebrows up triumphantly, as if it was down to him. Daughter-in-law wasted no time.
Is it going to start talking in the night again?
If you set updates for the day, it wont, Grandad replied, flicking through the booklet.
Daytime updates? said his son, puzzled. Wheres that?
Grandad pointed, like a teacher at the blackboard. Updatesautomatic, on schedule.
Well set it for ten to twelve, when youre home, he said. Job done.
His son fiddled on the phone and set it up as Grandad suggested. Daughter-in-law heaved a sigh of relief, only to frown again.
What about the lights? You promised I could say switch on and theyd just work. The hallway bulbs still the same old thing.
You need a smart bulb for that, her husband said.
But you said the speaker would
I said it *can*.
That wordcanalways set them off. It could spark any argument: the money row from yesterday, the bread one from the day before, the endless You never listen.
Grandad leafed further. The section on smart home, connecting devices. He could see son bracing to explain why it was complicated, and daughter-in-law primed for You just dont understand.
Youve still got that vacuum, havent you, said Grandad, as if it were an aside. The round one. Clever thing, that.
Daughter-in-law lit up. Oh, yes! It got stuck under the sofa yesterday, squealing away. I pulled it out, and it beeped at me like I was torturing it.
His son grinned. It wasnt squealing, it was signalling.
Call it what you like, she said, I still got the blame for having a low sofa.
Grandad rose and went into the lounge. The robot vacuum sat on its charging base, looking as sulky as a cat in a sulk. He squatted, eyed its brushesone was snarled with hair. He popped the cover, gently removed the tangled clump, tipped it in the bin in the loo. He put the cover back, pressed home. The vacuum gave a satisfied beep and settled in.
Back in the kitchen, the voices picked up again.
But youre the one turned it on, and then you put the chair in the way.
I only moved the chair because you said that would stop it going in there!
Grandad returned, carrying the dust container to show them. Transparent, with a fuzz of grey fluff and crumbs inside.
It didnt get stuck because of the chair, explained Grandad. It got stuck because the brush was clogged. Made things tough for it. It signalled for help.
His daughter-in-law screwed up her nose. Ugh, is that all from yesterday?
Thats a weeks worth, said Grandad. Its not the vacuums fault no one cleans it out. Nor is it yours for forgetting. Just need to agree who does itor set a reminder.
His son started to say something, then said nothing at all. Grandad felt a lightness settle in the airnot because he was right, but because suddenly there was a third way, not about blame.
Dad, said his son quietly, how do you know all this?
I read it, Grandad replied, tapping the instruction booklet on the table. Its all there. Theres a manual for the vacuum, toowheres that got to?
Daughter-in-law managed a sheepish smile. Left it in the box. In the cupboard. Didnt think wed need it.
What you dont need is arguments, Grandad said.
He said it gently, not lecturinghis words lay on the table like a spoon beside a mug. His daughter-in-law looked down. His son scratched the back of his head.
Were not arguing, his son said, automatically.
Youre bickering, Grandad corrected. But treating it like someone has to be at fault. Machines arent about faulttheyre about following steps.
His daughter-in-law looked up. Its not my fault I get spooked if it talks at midnight.
No, Grandad replied. Its fair to be startled. The point is to set it up so it doesnt. And to tell each other that youre scared, rather than youve messed it up again.
His son sat down opposite. His face showed he knew this wasnt really about the speaker, but he clung to it as a lifeline.
Alright, he said. Step by step, then. What next?
Grandad picked up the phonebut this time, it was help me, not let me. He found voice commands in the app, toggled Do Not Disturb at night, set the volume to mediumenough that it wouldnt startle anyone across the house if it piped up.
And if shes not responding, said Grandad, dont shoutjust stand closer. See these bits here? Microphones.
He showed them the little holes. Grandson stepped over.
Speaker, play some music, the boy tried.
Speaker replied, What music would you like?
Anything, Grandson said grandly.
Playing a playlist, the speaker replied, and something cheery, but not loud, started up.
His daughter-in-law laughed at last. Well, at least it does something without a row.
His son smiled too, quickly hiding it, as if it was childish. Grandad noticed, but let it go. He knew: for his son, not looking weak was important. For himself, it was more important his son didnt have to be strong against family.
Dad, said his son, why didnt you tell us to read the manual before?
I did, said Grandad. But you were listening to each other, not me.
Daughter-in-law sighed.
We are a bitlike its a competition. Whos cleverest.
Not about clever, said Grandad. Its about whos more right. Trouble is, being right all the time makes you lonely.
He stopped thereno need for a speech. He simply closed the instruction book and left it in full view by the breadbin, not buried in a box.
Lets make a deal, he said. Today weve sorted it. If something else wont work, first thingcheck the booklet. Then ask each other, but leave out you always. And if its still no goodcall me. I’m always here.
She nodded. His son nodded tooslightly later, as if giving himself a moment to catch up.
Meanwhile, Grandson was already testing.
Speaker, set a timer for five minutes.
Timer set, replied the speaker.
What for? his daughter-in-law asked.
For the tea, Grandson said. So it doesnt boil dry.
She glanced at the kettle, still stubbornly traditional with no clever buttons, and admitted softly,
I do like that bit. Timer. Useful, that is.
Her husband stood up, stepped behind her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. Not showyjust the normal way you stand close when you cant find quite the words.
Grandad stood up, took the vacuums dust tray back, checked the lid was secure, made sure the base was plugged in. Then he turned off the main light, leaving just the little lamp by the sink.
The music played gently. The timer ticked away inside the speaker, unseen but honest. Grandad took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt tail and put them in their case.
Dad, his son called as he was leaving the kitchen, thanks.
Grandad waved that away, as if brushing off a fly.
Dont thank me, he said. Thank the instructions. Theyre patient, at least.
His daughter-in-law grinned. And you?
He looked at them bothtempted for a witty remark, but decided on the honest one.
Im just here, Grandad said. So are you. Just dont turn it into a battle.
At that moment, the speaker stated, One minute remaining. And no one so much as flinched.
And so, in the quiet that followed, they all realised that most battles at home could be sidestepped if they listenedto each other, and sometimes, to the humble instruction manual.
