Granddad’s Gone
Sophie had just got back from another business triphadnt even had time to take her coat off or unpack her suitcasewhen her mum called.
Her mum, Margaret Wilkinson, sounded anxious, but Sophie didnt think much of it. She put it down to being absolutely wiped out.
Mum, you alright? Ive literally just got in the door.
Oh, love, youre home then? Thank goodness.
Sophie could tell straight away her mum had something on her mind. But she was dancing around it, not quite sure how to start. It was classic Mum.
Sophie wondered if it was just the usual village gossip that her mum loved to collect and share, but honestly, this evening she wasnt in the mood to play catch-up on everyone else’s dramas.
All she wanted right now was to collapse onto her bed and finally sleep properlyshe hadnt managed to get a wink on the train.
Thered been a group of four lads in the next compartment whod been making merry from the very start of the journey. Then, after midnight, theyd even put on a little concert, belting out songs with a battered guitar.
One of them actually sang about heror at least, that old folk song with her name in it:
Down by the orchard, the apple trees bloomed,
Mist drifted low over waters gloom,
Sophie came down to the riverside path,
Her cheeks aglow in the evening lights bath…
If Sophie had been in a better mood, shed probably have laughed. But all she wanted was for those guitar strings to snap and silence to descend. No such luck.
Mum, can I just have a quick rest, get myself together, and Ill call you back? We can have a long chat then, I promise.
Im afraid you wont be able to, love, her mum sighed.
What do you mean? It was only then Sophie realised her mums voice sounded off.
Rest. You wont get your rest.
Why not? Ive just been away for work. Surely Im allowed a break. Im not expecting anyone over and Im not popping round to anyones either. Or is there something I dont know? Mum youre not planning a surprise visit, are you?
Soph, darling Granddads gone.
Sophie went pale and, clutching the phone, she slowly sank onto the sofa. That was the last thing shed expected.
Mrs Bates next door to him rang this morning. She popped in to drop off some milk and, well she found Arthur. He was lying by the door, hand over his chest, not breathing. Mustve been there all night. So, love, well need to go to the village to take care of the funeral. Neighbours will help, but Soph, are you listening to me?
Sophie was so taken aback she hardly knew what to say. She just about managed a faint, Yeah.
Mrs Bates tried ringing his other relatives, but they flat out refused to come. Told her theyd only make the effort if there was an inheritance in it. But as for the houseno ones wanted that old place in ages.
Margaret paused. Ill be honest, Ive not got much desire to go down there myself, especially after Arthur told me plain and simple not to set foot in his house againincluding at the funeral. I promised him Id stay away, so its down to you, Soph. You can do this, cant you? See him off for the last time?
Margaret went quiet. So did Sophie, staring at the little table where granddads last letter resteda letter she hadnt even had a chance to read, since shed been away yet again on business.
This was her third trip in the last six months, and it probably wouldnt be the last. Her company was opening up a new branch in Manchester, and she was the one always sent over to sort things outeveryone else had kids or medical problems or something else. Only Sophie seemed free as a birdor so her bosses said.
Margarets voice came through the phone again. Soph, I just I dont want his neighbours thinking we forgot about the old boy. He could be a grumpy so-and-so, but he was still a person, wasnt he? And you two always got on, didn’t you? So, what should I tell Mrs Bates? Will you come?
Yes, Mum. Ill go. Of course I will.
Sophie got up, picked up granddads letter, turned it over in her hands, and put it back down.
Mum, I dont understand. How did this even happen? Granddad was fine at Christmas. He was cheerful, said he felt grand.
Soph, love, I honestly couldnt say, Margaret muttered. Hes not exactly a spring chicken anymore. Most men these days dont make it to retirementyour granddad was well into his seventies. We cant complain, really. God rest his soul.
Sophie was in shock. Shed dearly loved her granddad and, truth be told, was probably the only one who ever kept in touch. Neither Arthurs other relatives nor her own mum had spoken to him recently.
But then, her mum and granddad had never liked each other much.
Arthur had never forgiven Margaret for losing his only sonSophies dadand he blamed her for working him into an early gravethe very sort of man, said Margaret, who never reached retirement.
Margaret had convinced her husband, Andrew, to quit teaching and take up contract work up northmore money for doing up the flat, buying a little place by the seaside, and living well. But it meant months away, always grafting. In the end, Andrews heart just gave out, never having complained once about his health, and suddenly, he was gone.
Arthur had howled at the funeral. Even now, Sophie rememberedthe way the villagers had murmured, No parent should have to bury their child.
After that, Arthur and Margaret never spoke again. And good riddance, Margaret had muttered at the time. Im not to blame. A man should earn a living. Andrew had never said a word about being unwell.
Since then, granddad only kept up with his granddaughter. Hed loved Sophie, and she him.
When she was a girl, shed always spent her summers at his place, and when shed grown up, theyd written proper letters to each othernot texts or emails (Arthur wouldnt touch a smartphone or even a computer), just old-fashioned letters. Most people thought him odd for itincluding his neighbours.
He must be losing his marbles, the old ladies would gossip. Lost his wife, then his sonno wonder.
In his last month, people were even more convinced hed lost it. Hed started talking, not to himself, but to his cator so they thought. No one had ever actually seen a cat.
After the call, Sophie lay on her bed, lost in thought. She cried. Shed wanted to visit granddad that summer, but work had always got in the waytrip after trip, her boss just shrugged when she protested. If you dont like it, Sophie, hand in your notice. You wont find a salary like this anywhere else. And it was a good wage, so Sophie stuck it out.
Someday the trips would end and life would slow down. At least, she hoped.
***
The funeral was quiet. After a minutes silence, the men gently lowered the coffinlined with burgundy clothinto the ground, tossed soil over the top, covered the grave in fresh flowers, and that was that.
It didnt feel real to Sophie: granddad had been there, and now he was gone.
Afterward, they all went to the village pub for the wake. The locals drank whiskey, made toasts, told old stories about Arthur. Because of all those memories and tales, Sophie felt her granddad would keep on livingnot in the world she knew, but in the hearts of those who remembered him.
Once the food and drink had run out, everyone drifted away, and she found herself all alone in the house. She felt lost, so she busied herself round the placeaired out the rooms, scrubbed the pine floors, dusted everything, swept cobwebs from the rafters, and cleared up the leftovers.
Granddads housesolid and spaciouswas proper cosy, even if it was plain as can be.
Outside, the sky was turning soft and red with the evening. Sophie went out onto the porch and took a deep breath of country air. She wandered the gardengranddad always kept it spotless, each bed perfectly raked, apple trees in full bloom, blackcurrant and raspberry bushes along the fence. He never let the land lie empty.
Wholl look after this now? she sighed.
She called her mum and let her know it was done.
Well done, love. Whatever he was like, he deserved it.
He was alright, Mum. Just been through a lot, thats all. Dont be angry with him. He loved Dadcouldnt help saying things he didnt mean.
Oh, never mind, Sophie. Im not angry. Let him rest in peace, I say. When do you plan to come hometonight, tomorrow? Must be strange there on your own.
Im going to stay a bit, Mum. I took some time off. The countrysides so peaceful; might as well have a few days rest before coming back to London. And its just the nine daysmaybe youll come down?
Oh, Sophie, not likely. So far and its gardening season, you know! But do give your dads grave a visit for menever made it out myself. I told Arthur we should bury Andrew in Londonhe didnt listen. Right, darling, thats my programme starting, must dash. Call me if you need.
Sophie smiled to herselfher mum never changed: if things got serious, she suddenly became very busy.
Back indoors, Sophie made a cuppa with mint, blackcurrant leaves, and lemon balm she found in granddads old jars, drank it, and went to bed.
But that letter from granddad nagged at her. Usually hed write about life, memories, village happeningsthis time, it was all about some cat called Shadow.
She read it again.
Can you believe it, darlingShadow loves milk! People say grown cats shouldnt have it, but yesterday he polished off half a bottle. Poor things always hungry and hides from everyone. Ive hardly seen himjust a black flash darts past. Only feel his eyes on my back. Maybe youll catch him when you come, or at least, well try together.
Thing isthere was no sign of a cat in the house or garden. Shed been there days already and hadnt seen a thing. But, oddly, sometimes she did feel that gaze on herjust as granddad described.
Ill have to ask Mrs Bates about this Shadow
***
She woke at sunrise, sun just peeping between the curtains, sparrows chattering outside, cockerels crowinga proper English village morning.
Sophie opened the window, closed her eyes, and breathed in the countryside. She thought about childhood summers making birdhouses with granddad, all the memories.
And then remembered she needed to ask Mrs Bates about the mysterious cat.
Cat? What cat? Mrs Bates looked puzzled.
Im not sure myself. Shadow, he called it. He wrote about him in his last letter.
Mrs Batess face cleared. Ahhh, I see. About a month back, Arthur started talking to some catbegging it to show itself. Id peek over the fencenever saw a thing. He kept chatting to his invisible friend in the garden, telling him all about life, family, everythingalways calling it Shadow. I know others heard it too. But, Sophie, love, no ones ever seen that cat round here. Ive been in and out his place, never saw any animal there. I even asked himhed just laugh and say, When I catch him, youll meet him. I suppose hed just lost the plot a bit. If he had a cat, someone wouldve seen it, right?
Yeah, I suppose, mused Sophie. But its not like him to lose his mind. Maybe we just dont know the whole story. Or maybe the cat really was just that good at hiding. Maybe none of the village cats have gone missing?
Nopeno one round heres got a black cat at all.
Sophie went back and pottered round the place, still thinking about Shadow. It was a mystery.
Meanwhile, from behind a collapsed fence, a shy but watchful black cat peered at her. Over all the mourners who had come and gone, hed fixed on her; there was something about her that felt familiar and strangely comforting.
He didnt let himself be seen, but he watched her from afar. Arthur had been right: Shadow was terrified of people, with good reason. As a kitten, theyd always shooed him off or even thrown things at him. No one had wanted himhed just roamed from one village to another, desperate for a bit of kindness.
Arthur had been differentthe old mans eyes and gentle voice had won Shadow over. Hed sit nearby while Arthur talked, baring his soul about life, love, and loss. But Shadow never dared to come close.
And then suddenly, the house was empty. No Arthur. Shadow knew straight awaysomehow, hed sensed it. Hed crept to the house but all the doors and windows were shut. Hed sat there all night, quietly mourning.
And now, there was this new human, Sophie. Just like Arthurgentle, with a warm heart.
He wasnt ready to approach, but he watched. When she finally spotted himquite by accident, on the ninth dayhe froze. It was destiny, maybe.
The village was full that day, so Shadow hid, but as soon as calm returned, Sophie caught a glimpse of him.
So you are real, Shadow! she grinned, and moved slowly towards him. But the cat vanished, and wouldnt come out again.
Dont be scared, Shadow. I dont bite. Ive got to go soonwish we could at least meet properly
Mrs Bates, delivering a batch of cabbage pasties for Sophies journey home, overheard her chattingand peered over the fence, seeing Sophie but no cat at all.
First Arthur, now Sophieboth talking to invisible cats. Goodness me, she fretted, and trundled back to her house.
Later, a storm gathered, wind whipping through the garden and thunder growling in the distance.
Looks like a proper storms brewing, Sophie frowned at the sky. But before she could shut the windows, the first heavy drops fell, and she called to Shadow, hoping hed dash indoors, but he didnt appear.
He was huddled under the garden shed, nervoushe hated storms, even more than people.
***
The rain hammered down all night. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed; the old house shook and rattled. Sophie tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Then, with a deafening crash, the next blast of thunder lit up two glowing eyes at her window.
With a squeal, she scrambled higher up the bed. The next thing she knew, a sodden, black creature landed in the room and shot under the bedShadow, absolutely drenched and petrified.
Sophie coaxed him outwith some difficultythen wrapped him in a towel, dried him off, and let him curl up beside her on the bed. The storm still raged outside, but inside, cat and human kept each other safe and warm.
***
In the morning, the room was full of sunlight and birdsong. Sophie woke to the sound of Shadow desperately pawing at the sash window.
And where do you think youre off to, mate? she smiled at him, and Shadow seemed to pausealmost apologetic for interrupting her sleep.
Miaow! he pleaded, desperate to get out.
No food, no freedom, Sophie laughed. Lets get you a proper breakfast first. Thenwell, you can choose. Stay here, or come back to London with me. I reckon granddad wouldve liked us to stick together. But its up to you.
After feeding him, she opened the door. A little later, suitcase in hand, she came out onto the porchthere was Shadow, waiting patiently. He rubbed against her legs, decided: he wanted to come home with her. He was done with running, done with hiding.
There you are, good lad, she beamed. I knew youd choose that.
When Mrs Bates saw her carrying the cat as she dropped the keys off, she was stunned.
Thatsthe cat? The Shadow?
Thats the one, Sophie nodded. So dont go saying granddad was losing ithe was absolutely fine. Just unlucky enough to have a very shy cat. Look after the place for me, will you? Well come again, I promise.
Of course, love. Take these for the journey, Mrs Bates handed her a bag of home-baked pasties.
Thank you. For everything.
On the coach back to London, as Sophie gazed out of the window, she fancied for a moment she could see her granddads face in the clouds, smiling and maybe even giving her a little wink. Even Shadow, perched by the window, seemed to be looking for him too.
Granddad wasnt gone, not really. As long as Sophie and Shadow remembered him, hed always be thereliving on in their hearts, no matter where they were.
