Chapter 58
Elisavet didn’t show up to clean at Megan’s on Tuesday afternoon.
Megan popped round to Cora’s, see if she knew anything, and then they went to Gladdie’s.
Over a cup of tea in Gladdie’s cluttered kitchen they agreed it seemed unlikely she had forgotten it was Megan’s cleaning day because she was normally very reliable.
They decided they would wait a bit longer to hear from her.
She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, they felt.
But when evening came without any word, they reconvened and decided to go to the hostel in Queen’s Lane to check on her, see she was all right.
The skinny bare-chested man answered the door, blocking their way as if he was afraid they would rush him. ‘She’s gone back home,’ he said. ‘Packed her bags and left for the airport. You haven’t missed her by much.’
They retreated down the mossy path past the rusty bike frame, feeling dazed.
‘Gone! Without so much as a by your leave!’ Gladdie said, outraged. ‘Well!’
They walked slowly home from the hostel in the warm summer night under a sky pricked with stars.
They stopped on the Old Bridge, that ancient route for travellers seeking peace. Megan pointed at the stars, and Gladdie argued in her teacherly way that some of them were planets.
Megan said so what, stars was more poetic because nothing rhymed with planets.
‘Gannets,’ Gladdie said.
Megan snorted. ‘I suppose a gannet will be the subject of your next painting, will it? Wearing some kind of footwear? Flip-flops?’
In Island Farm Avenue they stopped under the streetlamp in front of Megan’s house.
‘I don’t know if we helped her at all, do you,’ Megan said thoughtfully, ‘and I’ve no idea what she thought of us. I suppose to her we were just three old ladies going on about the past.’
‘Old? We’re not old, we’re middle aged,’ Gladdie argued. ‘But we did our best to make her feel at home. And in return she made our homes all clean and new.’
‘She made our lives all clean and new, too,’ Cora said thoughtfully. ‘It’s been a good life, hasn’t it, looking back.’
After saying good night, she went down her path and let herself in through the front door. A large envelope was lying on the door mat with her name written on it in neat black letters.
She guessed it was from Elisavet. She took it into the kitchen and made a cup of tea before opening it.
A thank you card, she supposed. She thought fondly of anyone who sent a thank you card, it was the sign of a good upbringing in her opinion.
She opened it eagerly, preparing herself to be delighted. Inside was a terse, one-line message:
From Jelisaveta.
Cora closed it and looked at the picture on the front.
It was brightly painted, unusual for Elisavet.
It was a scene of the Old Bridge in perspective – won’t Gladdie be pleased!
And the three of them were standing on the cobbles, sunlit, Megan with her grey hair in bunches and Gladdie, all pink and lopsided, and Cora with her hand on her hip, one eyebrow arched, an old version of her young self.
On the bottom of the picture was written:
MY GRANDMOTHERS.
Well! There was an accolade. Better than a thank you, Cora thought.
She smiled to herself and propped it up on the table.
‘Fair play,’ she said.