Page 37 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Cassie smiled. Though he’d lived up the road in Nanna’s house since the old lady had moved into the family home, he still seemed to spend most of his time here at number nineteen.
“Make yourself useful then — lay the table.”
He grinned as he opened the cutlery drawer. “When did you learn to cook?”
She flicked a tea towel at his shoulder. “Cheek! You used to gobble down my prawn curry like you hadn’t eaten for a week!”
Lisa and Ollie came in from the sitting room with Noah. “The baby’s asleep, so I’ve left her in there. I can hear her from here if she stirs.”
“Dad’s just putting the lawn mower away. Noah, could you run up and tell your gran that dinner’s ready. I’m just going to take a little bit in to Nanna.”
She had cut up a portion of chicken into small pieces, and put a few chips on the plate with a spoonful of garden peas. She picked up the plate and a knife and fork, and carried them through to the dining room.
She tapped lightly on the door. There was no reply, so she pushed it open. “Nanna? I’ve brought you some—” Something wasn’t right. The old lady seemed to be asleep but . . . “Nanna?”
Cautiously she approached Nanna’s chair and reached out to touch her thin, veined hand. The old lady didn’t stir. Her eyeswere closed and there was a smile curving her pale lips. But she had gone.
Very slowly Cassie put the dinner plate down on the side table and stood for a moment, feeling her heart beating against her throat. Afraid that her legs wouldn’t hold her, she knelt down at her grandmother’s side, holding both her hands and gazing up into that much-loved face, the mesh of fine wrinkles a map of a life well-lived.
“Thank you for waiting until I got home,” she whispered. “I wish we’d had longer.”
She wasn’t crying — somehow she wasn’t sad. That smile told her that Nanna had been happy. She would miss her. Even when she had been on the other side of the world she had felt the warmth in her heart that Nanna was here at home.
But that warmth would always be there . . .
The door behind her opened quietly and she turned her head as her mother came in.
“Cassie, your dinner’s getting . . . Oh . . .”
Cassie rose to her feet. “Ollie was right, though it was sooner than he thought.”
Her mother smiled and shook her head. “No, I think he knew. He was just trying to soften it a bit.” She came across the room and put her arm around Cassie’s shoulders, gazing down at her mother-in-law. “She looks happy.”
“She does.”
“She enjoyed the cricket.”
“She did.”
“I was worried that . . . But I don’t suppose it would have made any difference. Better she went a little sooner after having a lovely day than lingering here bored and miserable.”
Cassie nodded. “You’re right.”
“I suppose we’d better tell the others.”
“Yes.”
But neither of them moved. They stood there for a long time, mother and daughter, side by side, gazing down at the old lady who had filled such a giant space in their lives.
Chapter Seven
Nanna had left detailed instructions for her funeral. Well, of course she had. Cassie had laughed as she’d read the note. The writing was a little wobbly, but the voice was distinctly Nanna’s.
Everyone was to wear bright colours — strictly no black. She had chosen the hymns, and had insisted that there were to be no long-winded prayers or sermons. Eva, the vicar, had laughed at that.
“Typical Edie. She’d sometimes yell at me to get on with it if she thought I was going on too long.”
It had rained overnight, but it wouldn’t have dared to rain on Nanna’s big day. The afternoon sun was bright and the beach was full of families. It seemed a little incongruous as they piled into the funeral cars, but Cassie suspected that Nanna would have relished that.
