Page 11 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“Ah, what have you brought me?” Nanna demanded as she spied the bag her daughter-in-law was carrying.
“A few of your favourites.” Helen set them out on the bedside table. “Would you like some strawberries now?”
“Never mind strawberries.” Nanna dismissed the punnet with an impatient hand. “I’ll have some of that milk stout. I hope you’ve brought the good stuff.”
Helen briefly rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
The rich, dark brew poured with just the right amount of creamy head. Nanna took a good swallow and smiled happily. “Now—” she squeezed Cassie’s hand — “tell me about everything you’ve been up to.”
Cassie laughed. “Everything?”
“Of course. I want to hear all the details.”
“I sent you loads of letters. I wrote every couple of weeks, and sent you photographs.”
“Bah! That’s not the same as hearing your voice tell it.”
Still as bossy as ever, though her voice sounded a little thin, a little raspy. Afraid of overtiring her, Cassie glanced across at her mother. She smiled, nodding to indicate for her to go ahead.
“Okay.” She drew in a breath. “Well, I started out in Florida, in Key West. I was the dogsbody to begin with.”
“That’s right,” Nanna approved, nodding. “You always have to start at the bottom.”
“I did — just checking and handing out equipment at first. But I’d got my Divemaster qualification, so after a few weeks they let me lead tourist groups on the reefs. I stayed there for almost two years.”
“Was it fun?”
“Oh, it was wonderful. As well as the diving, I learned to sail, waterski, windsurf . . .”
“So, you weren’t sorry about leaving Sturcombe then?”
Cassie hesitated. “Well, maybe a bit,” she admitted. “I did get homesick sometimes. But mostly it was all too exciting.”
“And boyfriends?”
Cassie smiled. “A few.”
“But you didn’t let any of them slow you down?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Good for you.” Nanna nodded, smiling in satisfaction. “So what did you do next?”
“Well, I lined up another job in Montana, working with horses on a dude ranch. On the way there I hired a car and took the long way round. Up to New York, down again to New Orleans . . .”
Nanna’s eyes had closed and her regular breathing suggested that she had fallen asleep. The beeping of the heart monitor hadslowed a little. But as soon as Cassie stopped talking she opened her eyes again.
“Go on,” she urged, an edge of impatience in her voice. “I don’t have all the time in the world anymore.”
Cassie laughed uncertainly but continued her story. Her mother had slipped quietly away to get a coffee, leaving Cassie to talk quietly as her grandmother continued to smile.
At last, when Cassie’s mother returned, Nanna opened her eyes. “There, I’ve heard all about my little Pickle’s adventures. I told you it was the right thing for her to go.”
“You did.”
“You only get one go round, you know. It’s not like a library where you can finish one book and take it back to get another one to start. You have to live your life like you mean it — don’t waste a moment of it. So, go and tell the nurses I’m coming home tomorrow.”
“What?”
