My husband had a grandmother, and it is with fondness that he remembers spending every summer with her. She welcomed his visits and never minded having him underfoot. Back in those days, she ran her own businessno small feat for a woman at the time. She managed everything herself, selling medicinal herbs to chemists across the town. My husband never quite understood how she organised it all, but even by the standards of that era, she earned a rather substantial sum. She was an extraordinary woman, set in her ways and strong-willed. She loved my husband dearly and never begrudged spending money on hearty food, yet she would never hand out so much as a shilling for little amusements. The whole family was convinced she must be saving for something important. The house was filled with large cupboards, their shelves sectioned off into endless compartments, and every single drawer was neatly locked.
As a boy, my husband was endlessly curious about those cupboards, but whenever he asked what was inside, his grandmother would brush him off: Just things for my work, nothing youd care about. The years rolled on and times changed. Entrepreneurial ventures became more commonplace and, inevitably, competition outpaced her. She then took up healing, tending to those in need without asking for a penny. Incredibly wealthy folk would come seeking her help. We visited her often while she was still with us, and it was always striking how modestly she lived. She dressed in tatty old clothes and ate the simplest of meals. Wed bring her hampers of food from town, but she would refuse them, insisting that we shouldnt spoil hershe was used to such a life, she said.
When she passed away, she left the cottage to my husband. We returned to settle the estate and sort through her belongings. In her larder, we discovered shelves laden with food, yet nearly all of it had long since perished, labels faded and tins out of date. It seemed her grateful clients had brought endless supplies, but shed touched none of it. The real shock, however, awaited us in her wardrobes. There, among the locked drawers and boxes, was a treasure troveluxury items from the 1980s and 1990s: silks, linens, fine china, perfumes, and baubles, collected in astonishing quantity. It was, in truth, a private museum of oddities, all but forgotten. Why she chose to keep her money trapped in objects that would one day lose their value rather than spend it on herself, Ill never understand. That woman was a mystery to us all.
