Lily made a face. ‘I actually have two suitcases,’ she said, giving Violet a sheepish look.
‘Moving in are we?’ She snorted.
‘Like, for a month?’ Lily looked hopefully at her. ‘I mean I can be your housemaid, cook, cleaner, bottle washer – anything you need – but I just need a break.’
‘What about your jobs and your flat?’ Gran asked.
‘I have already let the flat out to a couple who are from America and doing a play in London. They move in on Friday. And well my jobs, if you can call them that, let’s just say I won’t miss much. I haven’t really been getting many shifts. I need to look for a new job to be honest but I need to think what I can do. I don’t want to serve overpriced steak and fries to drunk businessmen or call people to ask them to join a wine club when they can barely afford their heating bill.’
Violet shook her head in affirmation. ‘Both of them are terrible jobs, I agree. No loss there.’
‘I know.’ The two women sat in silence for a moment.
Then Violet spoke. ‘Well I couldn’t think of anything better and between my fall and your voice, we might just be the right sort of medicine for each other.’
‘I can help with things around here and just potter, you know,’ Lily said.
‘I don’t need convincing.’ Violet laughed. ‘I have some silly nurse from the hospital coming tomorrow to check on me, which will be a waste of time. She will fuss about probably – you can get rid of her for me.’
‘No, I won’t do that. You need to be assessed, but they will feel more comfortable with me here for a bit, I think.’
Violet knew Lily was right, and she was secretly glad she was at Pippin Cottage. No one ever really understood how hard it was, getting old. It was one of those things you only discovered when you arrived at the destination. Lately Violet had been wondering if living this long was worth it. She had no purpose anymore, getting up was a chore and each day was becoming shorter from the time she arose to the time she went to bed. She could feel the clock running slower with every day.
6
It had been over fifteen years since Lily had last slept in this bed and yet everything felt as familiar as though she had only been away for a few weeks. She wasn’t sure why she had stopped coming to stay with Gran. Life had just become busier and then there were friends, and boys and musicals and school, and slowly she had drifted away from Pippin Cottage but never from Gran. They had always had a connection, she filled Violet’s heart and the empty space in her life. All the love she’d had for Martin was given to Lily.
When she looked back at her childhood, Lily was sure her mother Denise was upset by how close Lily was to Gran, but Gran understood her in a way Denise didn’t and there was never any pressure from Gran. She could do as she pleased, when she pleased, and that’s why summer was the best time. She tried to think of the last time she had stayed for the summer. She must have been fifteen, she thought, probably stroppy and cross because she had to be there when she would have rather been with her friends.
Now she lay in the single bed, up in the top left bedroom, listening for the owls. They would come eventually, calling out in the night about where they were and where the good mice were to be found. Mr Mistoffelees was settled comfortably at the foot of the bed, the warmth of his body heating her feet. He seemed to be enjoying his first country sojourn.
The calls of the owls would usually be heard as Lily’s eyes were closing, the moment between awake and asleep where she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or hearing their sounds.
With clean sheets on the bed, Lily now lay trying to see if she could sing again. Softly of course, but the strangled squeak was still there.
Her throat felt fine, it didn’t hurt to swallow or speak, so maybe it was in her mind, as Gran had suggested, but she would go and see a doctor anyway, just to be sure.
Her body ached from cleaning the flat the night before, and from the drive to Appleton Green. She had taken a shower in Gran’s tiny bathroom, which could do with a deep clean, she thought, but wouldn’t say that to Gran. She had always kept an immaculate home, but being ninety-seven and not as nimble anymore would make it hard for anyone to clean the shower recess. Mrs Douglas was right about the kitchen also. It wasn’t dirty but it wasn’t as clean as Lily remembered it, but she would have to tread carefully with that one. Gran was defiant, even in the face of the truth, and she didn’t want to make her feel that she was useless.
A call on her phone startled her and she jumped.
‘You’re there?’ Her mother didn’t bother with a greeting.
‘Yes, I’ve been here for hours. I’m in bed now, about to go to sleep,’ she said.
‘It’s only nine.’ Denise gave a little laugh.
‘Gran went an hour ago; this is late,’ Lily half whispered. ‘She already told me she’d stayed up half an hour past her bedtime.
‘What did you have for dinner?’
‘I made us boiled eggs and toast soldiers.’
‘How is she?’
Lily thought for a moment. ‘Feisty, independent, cross with you and Dad for making a fuss, frail, tired.’
‘Yes, I thought as much. You need to try and convince her to go into a nursing home.’
