Grandmother Missed Them Terribly
The bus rumbling out of the market town seemed to get further and further from anything resembling civilisation. Three turns after the battered tarmac had given up, that drab, faded village suddenly shone in memory like some beacon of greater England.
So, is this the gran with the pickled cucumbers? asked Lucy. Edith whats her surname?
Edith Matthews, yes, Tom nodded, his gaze unfocused. Our whole childhood was spent with those cucumbers. Every Christmasoh! He jolted as the bus lurched over a rut. Every Christmas, thered be a little bowl right in the middle of the table. Like it was the grandest of delicacies.
He ran his finger in absent-minded circles over a tear in the ancient seat.
She did send other things too, of course. Courgettes pumpkins sometimes
He and Lucy sat facing each other across the split, musty cushions. The ride was a headache of jolts and fumespetrol hanging in the warm air. Outside, there rolled past half-cut fields, goldening hedgerows, and cows, slow and sombre, in dark grass. It was like a blurred Constable painting, muddied by the grime on the glass.
Another jolt, even harder.
Ooof! exclaimed Tom, wincing. I think our driver reckons theres nothing left for this bus to lose.
Lucy snorted. Well, with these roads, its a miracle its still running.
Thats true. Listen, Im sorry He squeezed Lucys handtentatively, like he was seeking forgiveness. Id imagined the buses would be a bit more comfortable out here.
No worries, she offered a pained smile. I didnt come for the luxury, did I
They rattled across a bridge. Tom stared through cracked glass at the receding river, following its shimmer into the horizon. His mind drifted backwards, someplace far offwhere Granddad took him fishing, and Granny would narrate strange stories at bedtime. Stories of wood sprites and boggarts who made friends with plants and brewed magical stews.
We used to fish just there, Granddad and me. That little river.
Lucy studied Tom, searching for the shape of his thoughts.
But you said were going to see your gran. To ask her to come back with us? And your granddad, is he? She placed her palm over his clasped hands, gentle and uncertain.
Tom stared into the ceiling, voice tight. Yeah. Or, wellhe disappeared, didnt he. Never found the body, nor the fishing rod The police said His words stalledhe swallowed. They said he drowned, but none of us could believe it. Wed swum that river together so many times
Lucy exhaled lightly, as if afraid to disturb the hush.
How long since you last visited?
That time, he muttered. For the funeral.
She opened her mouth, then let it close, turning to the window. Tom continued anyway, quiet.
When I turned fourteen, my parents stopped sending me to stay with Gran and Granddad. Youre old enough, go if youd like, they said. So, I only ever went that one more time.
You didnt want to?
I did, Tom flushed. When I leftoh!another jolt”I told them Id come back the very next year. And I meant it. Parents even gave me the train fare, but things always came up. I never went that summer. I called, though. They sounded cheerful. Told meDont fret, enjoy yourself. Youre young. Live a little.
He turned to the window, falling silent, watching the wild hedgerow pass by.
The next year there was the leavers dance, then A-levels I spent that whole summer just anxious about university. I didnt go. Another year slipped by. And then
Tom fell silent, head bowed, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve. When he took his hand away, Lucy noticed the tear stains.
Granddad disappeared. That summer, everyone turned up. The funeral, the wake. And I promised myself Id go to Gran every year now she was alone. I really believed I would Untilwell
Lucy came round beside him, arms around his shoulders.
Its not your fault, she whispered, brow pressed into his sleeve.
***
Gran sat them straight down at the table. That plain, wooden thing. It looked just the same as it did at Granddads wake, only more worn at the corner where Gran took her meals. At the other end, a basket was stacked with applessharp, yellow-green and sweet.
Edith Matthews served them potatoes fried up with mushrooms, poured dark rye beer into mugs, and, of course, produced a half-eaten jar of pickled cucumbers from the fridge. Her movements were deliberate, but always careful, as if she feared dropping something.
Lucy, hiding her pity, bit crisply into a cucumber.
Mmm she murmured, shutting her eyes. The famous ones.
Yes! Tom cheered.
What, youve had them before, dear?
Yes, Mrs MatthewsToms brought them for me. Years ago. And nowjust as delicious as ever.
Well, eat up, my love. And you, Thomas. With that, Gran sat across from them, leaning her cheek on her hand, content to simply watch them eat.
For a while, only the clatter of cutlery and birdsong stole in from outside. At last, Tom swallowed, voice thick.
Gran. I’m really sorry its been so long. I I should have
She brushed it off. Oh, never mind, love. Youre here now, thats what matters. And brought your young lady too Gran smiled warmly at Lucy, who tried to smile back. Im so glad you both came. Youll help me a little, wont you? Water the cucumbers add a spot of feed Well see each other more now, I hope.
Tom brightened, glancing at Lucy, but said no more.
Are you staying the night then? Gran asked.
No, Gran, we cant. Weve got the dogMuffin. Need to feed her, take her for a walk
Tom looked at Gran, who sighed and turned away.
Always rushing, you city folk, she muttered. Always in a hurry, never a spare minute
She busied herself at her old gas stove, fussing over the kettle. Tom shot Lucy a worried look, then back at his grandmother.
Ill put the kettle on make a good brew with herbs
Well come again next week. Promise, Lucy said, her voice meant to comfort.
It settles the nerves, this tea, Gran went on, as if she hadnt heard. Takes the edge off the noise, the racket you two are always darting about
She returned carrying two steaming mugs. Tom was still worrying whether shed taken offence, but her face radiated its usual tenderness and care.
They sipped. The blend was smooth, freshyet no hint of mint.
Mmm, its lovely, Tom said. Whats in it?
Gran peered at the jar, scratching her head. Lets seeI dried it last year, specially for you lot Thyme, strawberry leaves apple peel, I think Whatever it was, itll do you good. Drink up now.
Another round of sips.
Gran, you still not keen to come stay with us in the city? Tom ventured.
Without my cucumbers? she replied, voice suddenly sharp, then softer. What about my garden, love? I belong here, with my apples and veg. Who else will keep the cucumbers in line? What would I do in your city?
You could plant a little garden on our balcony, Lucy offered. We have flowerscare for those. Take Muffin out for walks too
If you come, bring the dog along. Shed love the fields. No, Im not needed there. I belong here. You just have your tea. Dont let it go to waste.
Between sips, they tried and failed to persuade her, Gran standing firm. At last, as the dregs cooled, Tom sighed and gave up.
Alright, fair enough. Can we help at least? Dishes?
Oh, dont bother. I manage well enough. She rose, clearing crockery into the worn-out sink. You came, paid this old woman a visitthats all I needed. I feel better already. If you must, water the cucumbers.
Tom noticed that Grans movements, indeed, had grown brisker and more certain.
Look, she really is brighter, Lucy whispered, eyes wide. But will we have time? Its nearly four Buses back start after fiveshould be alright. She turned to Gran. Wheres the water and compost, Mrs Matthews?
Ill show you With a tea towel in hand, Gran led them outside, rubbing her hands dry as she walked. Compost later. Water first. You know where.
***
Tom stepped into the greenhouse, lugging two full watering cans. He paused, taking in the warm, earthy scent. Lucy slipped in behind him, hugging him from behind.
The glass walls were near spotless at eye-levelyou could see out to the apple trees and cottage. Below, though, green-brown algae thickened the lower panes.
The path inside curled to the left. On both sides, beds of plants pressed in, laced with low wooden borders. Cucumber tendrils sprawled everywhereacross the floor, up the frames, along the walls, over the doorposts, even curling round the very door theyd come through. The bushes hung with fruit at every stagetiny emerald slivers with yellow blossoms, fat mature ones ready for salad.
Tom whistled in admiration, left one can and began watering.
Everythings so tangled, like its been growing for years instead of months, Lucy murmured.
Too right, Tom replied. Close the door before we lose the warmth, love.
Lucy clicked it shut, hand on the lock. Should I bolt it?
No need.
He rounded the path. In the far corner, old toolsspade, hoe, bucketlay in a heap, half-buried behind the cucumbers.
As they walked, the beds became wilderas if Gran hadnt ventured this far in a while. Finally, circling the entire greenhouse, they returned to the door, cans empty in handand hesitated.
Is this the same door? Tom frowned.
It should be, Lucy echoed, uncertain.
But it was now almost entirely cocooned by tendrils. The threshold, frame, handle, boltevery inch was thick with pale green vines. No sign that theyd passed through just minutes ago.
Tom set down his can and pressed on the door. It didnt budge.
Must be a different one, Tom ventured, not quite convinced. The place looked identical, yet also alien. Lets double back and check.
Yeah.
They retraced their steps, arriving again at a door that was now even less familiar. Tom gave it a shoveharder this time. It wouldnt move.
What on earth he grumbled, all but flinging the watering can down. Were going to miss the bus at this rate He checked his watch, then startled. What? We already missed it
No way! Lucy grabbed his wrist.
Yup, five past. Bus in eight minutes Tom mumbled, defeated.
With soft sympathy, Lucy patted his shoulder, hugging him close. Its alrightwell stay with Mrs Matthews. She offered, remember? Ill just ring Mum. Ask her to walk Muffin.
How did we get lost in a greenhouse? Tom said, half-laughing, half-miserable. Were in four walls. That cant be right.
It cant, Lucy shook her head, confused. This must be the door. Maybe its stuck?
Tom pushed with his shoulder several times, to no avail.
The bolt? Lucy tried.
He checkedstill open. Then examined the frame: cucumber vines wound everywhere, but none were thick enough to truly block the way. He thought he saw them twitch, but perhaps that was his imagination.
Damn…” came a mutter from behind.
He turned. Lucy was bent over, fussing with her laces.
What is it?
This blasted green webIm tangled.
Tom knelt. It wasnt her lacesher trainer was caught in a tangle of vines. He tugged, but they were stronger than expected. He tried to work them loose, while Lucy held onto his shoulder for balance.
Should we call Gran? Lucy asked.
What for? Whatll she dobreak down the door? Untie your laces?
She shrugged, and Tom kept battling the mass of green. The more he tugged, the tighter it wove.
Bloody hell, how did you even get this caught? he snapped, flushed.
How should I know?! Lucy bristled. They glared at each other for a beat, then she steadied her voice. Have a look for that hoe. Might be able to hack through.
Tom sighed, then drew her close and kissed her brow. Sorry Just frazzled. Bloody door, missed bus, now you cant move
He set off more carefully, eyes scanning left and right now. Rounding the corner, expecting to find the tools, there was nothing. Hesitant, he bit his lip, then spottedstrangelya fishing rod propped against the far wall. He stared, unsure.
Suddenly, a sharp yelp. Tom spun and dashed backLucy was sprawled on the ground between the beds, clutching her head and groaning.
Those tentacles she growled. I slipped, hit my head on the edge.
Poor thing, Tom bent, touching her hair. Wish we had ice.
Its alright, the grounds cold enough, she managed a weak smile, and Tom matched it. Find the hoe?
Nocame dashing back. But listen, I did see a rod, just like
The fishing rod wont help, Tom, Lucy snapped, still dazed.
Alright, alright, he said, worrying at the vines still binding her foot. Maybe youre right
She groaned as she tried to move. Feels like Im tied down
***
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***
Tom exhaled, then knelt, inspecting Lucys thigh, precisely where she pointed. Sure enough, two green stems coiled about her leg, and, to his shock, their tips seemed to wriggle as they clung tighter.
Blimey I didnt think this stuff was real.
What is it?
Same as before, Tom muttered, trying to rip them. No use. He bent to try biting through.
Dont! Lucy cried, pushing his head away.
Im breaking the stalks! Tom yelled back, teeth gritted. With a savage snap, he tore one loose, proudly handing her the limp strand. Trophy!
She let out a strained laugh, twirling it. Meanwhile, Tom growled again and broke the remaining stalks on her leg.
There! Ohno
Now the other leg was entwined as well.
This wont do, Lucy clutched his shoulder. You need something sharp. Try again for the tools. I know I saw them.
But Toms hands trembled on the cords. How can I leave you here?
GO GET THE BLOODY TOOLS! she screamed, shoving Tom away so hard he fell back on a bed. I’ll manage two minutes lying still!
The green tendrils wore on, steadily climbing her leg. The ones that couldnt reach her swayed about, searching, moving painfully slow like stiff worms. Tom gave Lucy a helpless look.
Go. Im not going anywhere, she said, a little calmer.
He squeezed her hand, then stood. Suddenly, twilight rushed inthe greenhouse darkening abnormally fast.
Whats whats happening? Tom looked at the glass overhead.
Clouds? Lucy guessed. Whats the time?
Tom checked his watch, but the face was a blur in the dimness. He checked his phone.
Oh fordamn this day! Phones dead!
Fuming, he held his wrist inches from his eyes.
Nine-fifteen. Nineteen past! That cant betimes flying!
He bit his own wrist. Pain flashed, teethmarks clear even in the darkbut nothing changed. The minute hand spun like a second.
Of course its madness. None of this is possible. We’ll sort it when we get out. ButPLEASEfetch the damned tools! Lucy shrieked, out of breath.
Yes, yes, Tom muttered, inching along the narrow path, hands out to touch beds. The wooden edges barely showed, and he tiptoed onwards, willing not to trip. Halfway around, his pace slowed even more, pupils straining for shapes in the darkness.
From the far end came a sharp, choking gasp.
Ptui! COUGHquickly! Ugh! Lucys shout shook with fear.
Finally, Tom caught sight of the toolsspade, hoecrammed behind thick vines. He grabbed a spade, sprinted blindly. As he turned the corner, Lucy was collapsed, clutching her neck, hacking for breath. Tom rushed forward, but after only a couple of steps he trippedhis foot tangled by the greedy stemsand fell face-first in the soil. The spade clattered away into the darkness. Lucy shrieked as vines now wrapped round her face. Tom could only just reach her, his frantic fingers straining for her.
She clung to her neck with one hand, the other made pointless swipes at her face, trying to pull away the dense net of vines that filled her mouth and nose, creeping up beneath her eyelids. Another convulsion shook her.
LUCY! Tom bellowed, his hands clawing earth by her head. Tears streamed from his eyes. Lucy! Lucy!
She let out a pained, muffled moan. Her foot struck the ground weakly, then even softer. Her head sagged to the side, one hand slipping down, the other locked on the vines tight around her throat.
LUUUUUCYYYYY!
Tom stretched to his full length, barely brushing her forehead. He curled in the dirt, yanking at his trapped leg. Useless. He braced himself, trying to stand and wrench freenothing. Again. Again. Still nothing.
No no no he sobbed, stamping furiously at the vines. They only rode higher up his trapped leg, locking round his thigh like snakes.
He gave one last deranged shout, leaping sideways. But the vines held; he landed atop a bed, breaking its edge, his head and shoulders crashing through a glass pane.
He lay gasping, staring up at a pale blue morning sky, a stab of pain burning his back where glass had pierced it. The sun rose, blood-red over the apple trees. Tits and sparrows darted above, flitting between the house and the orchard.
Gran appeared from the house and swept the garden at a pace Tom would have missed in a blink. Soon, the sun glowed high, gold through the apple leaves.
Gran stopped above him, smiling down, hands gentle. She knelt and kissed his brow with kindness.
Well, now, my dears. There, there. You neednt rush back to town. Youll stay with me, always now.
She stood, brushed off her apron, and darted away, stick and feet a smudge of motion.
The sun climbed. Tom felt vines curling up towards his face.
