Page 42 of A Family Affair
Her grandad Ernie was a grudge-holder and prone to belligerence. Her grandma used to despair of him, saying she’d lost count of the times he’d cut his nose off to spite his face. Never backing down once he’d made a decision, he would rather be stuck in a corner on his own than admit he was wrong.
She’d always thought he was so like Great Grandma Molly, who Honey only remembered via other people’s memories, but now she wasn’t so sure.
But if his difficult demeanour couldn’t be attributed to nature inherited from Molly, could it be nurture?
Not wanting to begin the day just yet, her mind wandered to the previous evening when, after bringing Ziggy up to date with all things Levi, and Ziggy had reciprocated with her racier exploits with the new registrar, Honey explained about Aunty Beryl’s letter.
She hadn’t really wanted to tell anyone at all, but bearing such a huge secret was eating her up inside and she trusted Ziggy with her life and her family’s affairs.
They were halfway through a plate of leftover steak pie and mash, and Honey had got to the crunch part, describing the moment Molly had walked out of a crater with someone else’s baby and then went off to start a whole new, fake life. To say Ziggy was shocked was an understatement.
Her fork, filled with gravy and mash, hovered in front of her mouth that was making a wide O-shape and not for the purposes of shovelling in food. ‘Oh my God! You are kidding me… you’re not, are you?’
Honey had lost her appetite so put down her cutlery and answered, ‘Nope. Deadly serious and now I’m left with a decision and then a task. Should I tell Grandad? Because it will totally mess with his head and fuck knows how he’ll react. Or do I spare him the heartache and keep schtum but that way, I will have to reconcile myself to the fact that I denied him the truth. Just like Molly and Aunty Beryl did. Either way I will have to live with the consequences, won’t I?’
Not one to let anything stand in the way of food, Ziggy continued to eat, but Honey could see by the look on her face she was mulling it all over and once she’d swallowed the mash, she gave her verdict.
‘There’s no way round it, mate. You are going to have to tell him. You of all people cannot go through the rest of your life overthinking this decision and I’m telling you now, you’ll regret not telling him far more than being honest. It’s not going to be easy but it’s definitely the right thing to do.’
Honey knew Ziggy was right. It was what her conscience had been telling her since Sunday, when she’d read the letter, and even if she had confided in Levi during their Facetime, she was sure he’d have said the same.
The only reason she hadn’t spilled her guts was because she’d have felt disloyal. First to her grandad and then to Ziggy who was the original keeper of Honey’s secrets. Not that there were any juicy ones, sadly, but it was the law, one of the many they’d made up when they were thirteen. As yet, Honey had kept the faith and felt better for it.
Resigned to the fact that hump dayandher task couldn’t be avoided, Honey flipped the duvet aside and with a yawn, headed for the shower. She’d get work over with and go to the allotment if the café was quiet mid-afternoon, leaving Lizzy and Gospel to manage. Never had she wished for a mad rush more. In fact, bring on three coach parties and every member of the Peak District Rambling Association. That’d do nicely.
* * *
Honey watched him from the gate of the allotment. He was fixing some netting to poles with cable ties, lost in his own gardeners’ world. When her next thought hit, it was like an unexpected wave that gets you from behind and sweeps you off your feet and when you get up, stunned and covered in sand, eyes stinging from the salty sea, it takes a while to get your breath.
This was one of those waves and these were the last few minutes of her Grandad Ernie’s life as he knew it, where ignorance had been bliss, of sorts. He’d accepted his lot in life and was pottering about, marking time as he called it, until he saw her grandma again. He said it often.
The sting in her eyes wasn’t from the sea, but from the tears that swam as she looked at her beloved grandad.
Honey shivered and she was glad she’d worn her parka because the afternoon was turning chilly and already her feet were cold inside her pink wellies. Or was it fear cooling her bones and heart?
Again, the doubts crept up on her, whispering that she should leave him be.
Then another voice, firmer, telling her this was her duty, and it was down to her now. To right a wrong and speak up for those who’d missed their chance, or absolved themselves and passed the buck. There were so many ways to look at her situation she thought her head might explode and splatter like a pumpkin. Seeing him like that, in his special happy place, made her regret her choice of venue. She shouldn’t sully it. This was his refuge and she’d made a mistake.
Honey decided instantly that she’d wait for him at his. Go round and make him some tea and tell him there in the privacy of his own home. What had she been thinking? She was about to turn and flee when one of his buddies called over to Ernie and pointed in her direction, alerting him to her presence. Bugger.
There was nothing for it now. She’d have to get it over with so returning her grandad’s wave, she took a deep breath, flicked the gate catch and invaded his world.
CHAPTER31
ERNIE
They’d told him to get to the hospital as soon as possible, because Nancy’s condition had deteriorated and to this day, he couldn’t remember the journey there. He must have been on auto-pilot.
There was a glimpse, a recurring memory of him buzzing the intercom like crazy, then after hearing the automatic click that allowed him entry, barging through the doors of the ward and racing towards her bed. Then being hijacked by the male nurse who barred his way and in the kindest, most reverent way you can break anyone’s heart, told Ernie he was too late.
The next scene is the curtain being drawn back, and the sight of his beloved Nancy who looked like she was sleeping, having a nod, as she used to say. And then Ernie sat, by her bed, in a state of anaesthesia. Not exactly blissfully unaware, that was the wrong word entirely, but Ernie was sure that they could have chopped off his left leg, and he’d have felt nothing. Heard nothing. Was oblivious to those on the other side of the curtain, as though the rest of the world had been muted and the only two people in it were him and Nancy.
He must have breathed in and out, his heart kept beating while he spoke to his precious, most beautiful wife who listened patiently while he stroked her hand and touched the rings on her wedding finger. But Ernie couldn’t remember what he said, or the feel of Nancy’s skin under his. All he could remember was the numbness. Being detached from reality.
That was exactly how he felt in that moment as Honey sat by his side, holding the sheets of lined paper in one hand, gripping his own hand tightly in the other. He could see movement in the corner of his eyes as her fingers stroked his skin, but he couldn’t feel them. Ernie couldn’t feel anything.
He kept his gaze straight ahead and looked out onto the allotment where normally he saw patches of land, ordered rows of planting, his fellow gardeners toiling away.
