Chapter 6
Dot’s grandson Sean arrives like a snowstorm – fast and carrying the promise of chaotic fun.
He’s wearing shorts and a vest top and his arms are muscly and covered in tattoos.
Has he got makeup on? I think he might have.
And yes, there’s a dusting of glitter around his eyes.
I’ve never met anyone like him in real life.
He greets us with hugs and kisses, and he holds me tightly for slightly longer than I’d have expected.
‘Mabel! I’ve heard so much about you and I’m honoured to finally meet you,’ he says.
‘Well,’ I say, because I’m a bit stuck for words. ‘Yes, thank you for coming.’
Once we’re all sitting down in the front room, Dot explains how he fits into the family, though she’s already told me. I don’t know whether she thinks I might have forgotten or whether she’s nervous.
‘Sean is my son William’s youngest,’ she says. ‘He’s got an older sister, Tasha.’
‘Tasha’s pregnant,’ Sean says. ‘Did you hear?’
Dot gasps. ‘No! I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.’
‘Well,’ Sean says, ‘that’s the thing. She doesn’t. She’s going it alone, she says. But maybe it’s all still hush-hush. She’s only a few weeks. Don’t tell her I told you. First great-grandchild for you, Nanna.’
I picture Dot and me making visits, passing a baby between us. There’s something so endlessly hopeful about a tiny baby. A new little person who hasn’t had a chance to make a single mistake.
‘First great-grandchild,’ Dot says, and there’s a tear in her eye.
‘And your older son, John?’ I ask. ‘He’s on his own, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. No partner, no children. He has a little bungalow. He’s sort of… old before his time.’
‘You can say that again,’ Sean says. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think Uncle John was older than you, Nanna.’
Dot’s told me that she has worried, over the years, about John’s solitude.
She says he’s a good man, generous and thoughtful, and she can’t believe he hasn’t had opportunities for love.
Her conclusion is that he must have chosen this sort of life, quiet and alone.
And why not? What’s right for one isn’t always what’s right for everyone.
‘What does he do? John?’ I ask.
‘Well, he’s retired now, but he was some kind of IT manager for a chain of shops across the south coast.’ Dot raises her hands, palms up as if to say she doesn’t know much about it.
I don’t need her to go on, anyway, because that sort of job has always been baffling to me.
‘What do you do?’ I ask Sean.
Dot’s actually told me what he does, but I want to hear about it from him.
‘I’m a nurse,’ Sean says. ‘I look after cancer patients, mostly.’
‘What a wonderful thing,’ I say, and he glows.
When he goes to the toilet, Dot leans in close. ‘Is he too much?’
‘Sean?’ I ask. ‘No! He’s just the right amount.’
And then when he comes back, it’s like there’s been a mutual agreement to get serious and I’ve missed it.
‘Mabel’s asked me to marry her,’ Dot says.
Sean claps a hand to his mouth. ‘Oh, Nanna!’
‘But I’ve told her we don’t know each other well enough yet. And also that I’m still married to Geoff.’
‘Of course,’ Sean says. ‘I miss Geoff. But I see that’s a bit of a problem, for your future together.’
I wonder whether he was a sort of grandfather figure to Sean, and it reminds me that I should ask Dot to see a photo, because I don’t know how to picture him.
‘It’s not ideal,’ I say. ‘But life rarely is, I’ve found. We’ll work it out.’
Dot gives me a smile that I know is a thank you, and I squeeze her hand.
I hear footsteps on the stairs and Erin comes into the room.
She looks tired. She’s in the final straight now, the exams starting soon, and she’s really pushing it.
Some nights I lie awake wondering whether I should tell her to take it easy, or whether this is just how you get through it.
She’s young, resilient. But I’m aware that she doesn’t have her parents around to guide her. That, right now, she only has me.
We make the introductions and Erin says something about how this house just keeps getting gayer and gayer and Sean laughs uproariously and I can see that – despite being very different – these two are going to get on just fine.
Erin says she’s going for a walk to clear her head, and we all look at each other, realising that we could all do with a bit of fresh air, so ask Erin whether she minds us tagging along.
And a few minutes later we’re all out on the street, blinking in the bright sunshine, starting a slow stroll.
Almost straightaway we fall into pairs, Dot and me with our arms linked and Sean and Erin ahead, struggling to go slow enough for us.
I watch them chatting, Erin waving her arms around and Sean throwing his head back to laugh, and it makes me feel warm, like the sun on my face.
‘They make me feel old,’ Dot says.
‘How funny, because they make me feel young,’ I say.
And we laugh, because both things are true.
‘Look,’ Erin says, pointing to some boxes full of books and games outside the front of someone’s house. There’s a big sign taped to the front of one of the boxes that reads Free – please take.
We have a bit of a look and Erin takes a couple of paperbacks. She holds up a jigsaw. ‘For you two?’
Dot scoffs. ‘Jigsaws are for old people.’
‘Well,’ Erin says, ‘I hate to tell you this…’
The picture on the box is a summery village scene, with a church and some cottages and a green with people having picnics.
‘We could give it a try,’ I say, and Erin balances her books on top of it and starts walking again.
I don’t notice Kirsty walking towards us with the buggy and the dog until she’s reached Erin and Sean. When we catch up, the smile falls from my face because I can see that she’s been crying, her lovely face tear-streaked and blotchy.
‘Oh, hello Mabel, hello Dot,’ she says, sounding utterly miserable, her voice hitching.
‘What is it, Kirsty?’ I ask.
‘I’m just so tired. Everything’s such a struggle. I wanted to stay in bed but this one needed a walk.’ She pulls gently on Olly’s lead. ‘And this one needed some fresh air.’ She tips her head towards the buggy. ‘I’m sorry, I’m moaning, I’m just finding it hard.’
Erin flashes me a look and I nod.
‘Go home,’ she says. ‘Give Dotty and Olly to us. You’ve got that fancy changing bag with everything she needs in it, right? Go home and go to bed.’
Kirsty looks so relieved at the very thought of this. But she also struggles to agree, as I knew she would. ‘But you’ve got company. You must be Sean. I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this. I’m Kirsty.’
Sean holds his hands up to indicate that it doesn’t matter. ‘I love babies,’ he says. ‘And dogs. Pass me the lead.’
There’s a bit of back and forth, because even once Kirsty’s accepted the offer, she has to tell us things about Dotty’s routine.
I feel a bit nervous about the whole thing, but I remind myself that Dot has done this, that she knows the ropes.
Erin’s sister has a baby, too, so she’s not totally clueless.
I have no idea about Sean, no idea whether he was even telling the truth when he said he loves babies.
But after a few minutes, Kirsty goes off back the way she came and Sean’s got Olly’s lead and Erin’s pushing the buggy and we carry on.
‘Have I told you that Olly used to be mine?’ I ask Dot.
She turns to me with a look of surprise, and I see that I haven’t.
‘Well, Arthur’s really. He never much liked me. After Arthur went, I couldn’t really manage him, so Kirsty started walking him because she was out and about with the baby all the time. And then I asked if she would like to take him, and she did.’
‘Do you miss him?’ Dot asks.
I think about this. After Olly was gone, I did miss him lumbering about the house, even though he never came to sit with me or gave me any affection.
But now I have Erin and Dot, and I know he’s been better off with Kirsty, so the missing has faded.
Now, though, I wonder whether I ought to offer to take him back, at least temporarily, to help Kirsty out.
He’s mellowed since going to live with her.
Would he go back to his old grumpy ways if he came back to me?
‘It was for the best,’ I say. ‘But we should definitely offer to help out a bit more, walking him. She did that for me when I was grieving, so it would be a nice way to pay that back.’
* * *
Back at the house, Erin takes Dotty out of the buggy and finds a couple of toys in the changing bag.
Dotty’s recently started walking but still needs a hand to hold, so Sean and Erin take it in turns to walk her around the downstairs rooms. It would be crippling for me, with my back, and I suspect for Dot too.
‘What about your revision?’ I ask Erin.
‘Emergency day off,’ she says.
And I think she needs it, so I’m glad. It’s lovely to see her in this mode, playing clapping games and singing nursery rhymes.
At one point she asks me for an empty plastic bottle, and we find one in the recycling and she pours some rice into it to make a shaker.
Dotty beams. Then we realise it’s lunchtime and we haven’t even thought about what to give Dotty, so Erin messages Kirsty and we’re told she’ll be fine with some cheese on toast and a cut-up apple.
When it’s time for Dotty’s nap, Erin goes upstairs and comes back with pillows and blankets and we make a little nest for Dotty in the back room.
We don’t dare leave her upstairs because we don’t have a stairgate.
And then Dot makes tea and we all collapse in the front room with it, keeping our voices low so as not to disturb our little visitor. I’m shattered.
‘I don’t know how people do this alone,’ I say.
Dot laughs. ‘Mine were little terrors. Into everything. Always getting into the kitchen cupboards or climbing the furniture.’
The thought of it. Three of them. It’s taken all four of us to manage Dotty for a couple of hours.
‘Hopefully her mum will be feeling better soon,’ Sean says.
‘She’s pregnant,’ Erin says. ‘So I think she might be tired for the next—’
‘Ten years or so,’ Dot cuts in, smiling.
Sean widens his eyes. ‘Oh. Well, in that case, good luck to all of you and I’m quite glad to be going back to Portsmouth tomorrow.’
At the mention of him going home, I have a thought, and I save it until I’m alone with Dot later in the evening.
‘We could go with him,’ I say. ‘Sean. Tomorrow. We could go down and see your family.’
‘How would we get back? If Sean drove us?’ Dot asks.
‘We could get the train.’
‘Or I could just drive us,’ she says.
I don’t say anything because I don’t need to. She knows I worry about her driving long distances, but she says she can’t give driving up, not while she still feels able to do it. She says it means freedom to her, always has.
‘Let’s decide in the morning,’ Dot says. ‘Sean’s not planning to leave until after lunch, so there’ll be plenty of time to pack a bag.’
That’s how we leave it. When we’re watching a quiz show on the sofa, side by side, I reach across and take hold of her hand, tracing circles on her palm with my thumb.
Sometimes I can’t believe that we get to do this, to just be together, when it was all I once wanted, even though it seemed so impossible when we were young.
And even though it’s the most ordinary of scenes, I feel a rush of excitement.
That childlike joy of never knowing quite what’s around the corner.