By Annabelle Beard
Leah stands in the driveway, gazing up at the picturesque red-brick house. The front garden is—as always—neatly trimmed. Gardenia bushes line the path and driveway, beginning to sprout white flowers—the same ones she has seen this time every year. It’s been far too long since she came to visit. Her job has kept her busy, but if she were honest, she would admit she has been putting it off. She draws one last deep breath, then walks to the front door and taps the brass knocker with shaking hands. Shuffling sounds come from beyond the door. A woman opens it.
‘Hi, how can I help you?’ she says.
‘Oh, um,’ surprised by the unfamiliar woman, Leah stumbles over her words.
While she fumbles, the woman’s face lights up with a warm smile, her eyes creasing as she says,
‘Well, you must be Leah! I recognise you from all the photos around the house. I’m Mel, one of your grandfather’s nurses.’
‘Oh, hi.’
Fidgeting with the buttons down her dress, Leah’s worries from the drive over bubble up.
‘I didn’t realise he needed full-time nurses now.’
‘We only just bumped it up to five days a week. I just check on how he’s going and make sure he’s keeping up with his medications, and I think he likes the company.’
Suddenly realising she is standing in the doorway, Mel jumps to the side and motions Leah in with a sweep of her arm.
‘Come in, come in! He’ll be so excited you’re here; he’s always going on about how proud he is of you.’
Leah gives a small smile and thanks Mel as she walks past her, into the house.
God, everything still looks the same, Leah thinks to herself.
Every photograph and every scratch in the wooden floors look just as they did on her last visit. The musty air still carries traces of the tea leaves her grandfather uses every morning. The same dark, wooden coat rack stands by the door, cluttered with jackets that haven’t moved in months. Leah slips off her coat and adds it to the rack. As she follows Mel through the kitchen doorway, Leah pauses. Her eyes are drawn to the architrave and the faded handwriting of her grandfather, which marks the ages and heights of her mother, uncle, cousins, and herself. She runs her hand along the markings.
‘It’s still here,’ she mutters.
Mel turns around, ‘What’s that, dear?’
Leah gives a slight shake of her head before saying, ‘Oh, nothing. I just forgot about these.’
***
Charlie’s back is to Leah when she walks into the living room, the afternoon sun turning him into a dark silhouette as he stares out the bay window. Her shoulders release some of their tension, and she suddenly feels foolish for being so nervous to see her grandfather. Leah smiles to herself as she walks up to Charlie and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
‘Hey, Grandpa, you miss me?’ she says.
Leah lets go as Charlie starts spinning to face her, and as their eyes meet, his widen with what looks like shock.
‘Ally? Wha–,’
After shaking his head and closing his eyes for a beat too long, Charlie looks back at Leah, who starts picking at the cuticles of her left hand—a nervous habit that has the sides of her nails looking beaten and torn.
‘Oh. Leah. I’m sorry, I got confused for a moment. I could have sworn you were–’ Pausing, Charlie rubs his eyes and laughs, ‘So, how have you been?’
Before Leah can speak, Charlie continues, ‘Actually, I think the better question is, why haven’t you visited your poor, decrepit Grandpa?’
Relief floods through Leah as she thinks, Now, this sounds like him.
***
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. They slip back into the familiar routine from when Charlie would pick Leah up from school. An Arnott’s assorted biscuit tray sits half-eaten on the coffee table. Midsummer Murders plays on TV. Charlie and Leah compete to be the first to guess who the killer is. Now, Leah sits next to Charlie on the sunken, time-worn couch, feeling the calmest she has all day. Watching a comfort show and sitting with her grandfather—a routine that filled her body with a warm, familiar feeling she couldn’t quite place—Charlie isn’t as different as she feared. Bringing her out of her thoughts, Charlie turns the volume down and clears his throat.
‘So, what’s been happening with your big city job?’
Smiling, Leah says, ‘It’s been good! I’ve actually been promoted. That’s why I haven’t visited in a while.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! So, you’re writing full-time now? I always knew you could do it. Just remember, I’ll always be your biggest fan.’
Charlie shakes his head and chuckles. ‘My granddaughter, the successful writer.’
Leah’s heart drops, and she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to hide her disappointment.
It’s not that big a deal; he just knows I love reading. She tries to convince herself.
Looking over at Charlie, Leah tries to use as light a tone as she can muster, ‘Oh, no, Pa, I’m in marketing. I help my company get noticed online.’
It sounds more like a plea.
Charlie stares at Leah, then starts shaking his head, agitation growing on his face.
‘No, I have your first article right here. Had it framed, too,’ he says as he stands and walks to the small chest next to the couch, which doubles as a side table.
Watching Charlie closely, Leah finally notices how different her grandfather looks. Hollow cheeks now replace his once round face. The same chinos and grey sweater he’s worn for years hang loose. Charlie opens a large chest and moves aside old family pictures—memories of four generations. He picks up a newspaper cutout in an old, dust-covered frame. Readjusting his pants, Charlie walks to the couch and hands the frame to Leah. The title of the article reads:
In Her Own Words: One Woman’s View from the Corner Shop.
Bringing the frame closer to her face, Leah makes out the byline in small print on the now yellowing paper.
Ally McKenzie– Monday, 28 October 1968.
Should she correct him? What’s the point? It will only upset him. Feeding into it seems wrong somehow.
She tries to keep her tone light and her face happy as she says, ‘Oh, right.’
Leah pauses and gives a pointed glance at the clock above the TV. ‘I’ve got to head off now, but do you mind if I take this home with me? I’ll bring it back tomorrow.’
‘Why, of course. Maybe you could even sign it for me.’ Charlie says, giving Leah a quick wink. ‘Come on, love. I’ll walk you out.’
They walk back through the house in silence. Leah’s mind races, she can’t wait to get home and read the framed article.
She turns to open the door and says, ‘Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
‘Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow. It’ll be a busy day. Paddy is coming to see me, too. You know my daughter, Paddy, don’t you?’
Leah turns back around to Charlie. He’s serious, she realises, her breath catching.
‘Yeah, she’s my mum.’
Charlie slowly nods his head as he says,
‘Oh, okay. So, that’s how you’re related to me.’
***
On the drive back to her house, Leah sits in silence. She hasn’t been able to get this Ally person out of her mind since she left Charlie’s house. Her eyes are drawn to the framed newspaper sitting beside her handbag on the passenger seat. She runs her fingers over the intricate patterns on the frame. A loud ringing sound suddenly plays through her car speakers, startling her back to the road. A contact photo appears on the dashboard of a woman—her hair the same caramel brown as Leah’s. The Caller ID reads: Mum. Leah takes a calming breath and answers the call.
‘Hey Mum.’
‘Hey sweetie, how’d it go?’
She’s checking in to see if I’m okay. Leah thinks to herself.
‘Um, yeah, good, I guess. I mean, you were right. It was a shock to see him. H–He looked different, and he kept calling me–’
Leah frowns, unsure if she should keep going. She knows her mum has been having a hard time with all of this, of seeing her father—the linchpin of the family—slowly forgetting all their shared memories. But she also needs someone to understand her concern. The words catch behind her lips.
‘Kept calling you what, sweetie? I’m sure he didn’t mean anything he said, but he has been a little agitated lately.’
‘No, No. It was nothing bad.’ She quickly said. ‘He just kept calling me Ally. Do you know who that is?’
‘Ally?’ Leah could feel the crease forming between her mother’s eyebrows as silence fell.
‘Mum?’
‘No, sweetie. I’ve never heard him speak about an Ally before. I’m dropping by tomorrow; did you want me to ask him?’
‘I-I think I’m going to go visit again tomorrow, too.’
‘Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! I’ll see you there then.’
‘Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.’
‘Love you too, sweetie. Bye.’
Leah hangs up the call as she pulls into her driveway and sits there for a moment. She allows herself one more second of racing thoughts before setting the day’s events aside—until tomorrow at least.
***
As tomorrow begins, Leah’s mind goes back to Ally, and as Charlie sits on his side of the couch—chatting with Paddy about his walk that morning—Leah’s eyes keep drifting to the small chest where the newspaper came from.
‘You’re quiet this morning. Are you bored by all the different flowers we saw on our walk?’ Paddy teases.
Before Leah can reply, Charlie cuts in, ‘It’s good to have a bit of knowledge about our native flowers.’
Leah—humouring him—nods and says, ‘I think I know quite a lot about the flowers round here, seeing as I grew up around you.’
Charlie and Leah smile at each other, both happy to slip back into their playful banter, but just before looking away, Charlie catches the faint expression that crosses Leah’s face.
‘Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’re trying to think of something to say that I will understand.’
His voice has an edge to it now, one he has never directed at Leah before, making her look down at her hands as she tries to stop the back of her eyes from stinging.
Paddy clears her throat, trying to cut in, ‘Dad, I don’t think that’s what happe–’
‘I haven’t become completely useless, well, yet anyways. And I am not being paranoid, Paddy.’
Charlie gives Paddy a stern, sideways glare, making Leah freeze.
Her next words come out smaller than she intends, ‘You’re not.’ She clears her throat and looks back up at Charlie. ‘No one thinks you’re useless, Grandpa.’
Charlie shuts his eyes, taking a calming breath. When he looks back at Leah, his expression is soft.
‘Thank you, princess,’ is all he replies.
Silence falls between them, and voices from the television play softly in the air. Charlie’s attention returns to the show playing, and Leah’s goes to her mother, who is not so subtly making head gestures from Charlie to Leah’s purse, where the framed newspaper now sits.
Rolling her eyes, Leah gives in and says, ‘Um, Grandpa?’ Charlie gives an absent-minded hum. ‘Yesterday, you called me Ally.’
‘I did?’
‘Well, yeah. I was just wondering, who is she?’
Charlie’s shoulders tense as he frowns at Leah, shaking his head at her.
‘She was—’ He pauses, before pointing past Paddy, towards the kitchen. His shoulders soften and a warm smile spreads across his face.
‘She is my wife. She should be in the kitchen right now. That’s where I always find her.’
Leah and Paddy exchange a wordless look as Charlie continues,
‘Loves to cook, that wife of mine.’
At the answering silence, Charlie leans forward, eyes pleading with Paddy and Leah for any sort of understanding, but they just sits there, silent. Leah doesn’t know how to respond. She looks over to her mum, expecting to find the calm, understanding presence she is used to relying on. Instead, she looks pale. She tries to hide the slight tremor in her hands as she awkwardly rests them in her lap.
‘Um, Dad…Mum’s name isn’t Ally and—’ Paddy hesitates, ‘and she’s been gone for at least twenty years.’
Her voice is level as she speaks, practised. It sounds like the voice Leah is used to hearing during a crisis, but it feels different. Now, it sounds empty, like she’s holding herself back from panicking. Thinking back to every time Leah heard that voice as a child, her mum always had a controlled expression when she used it—one that told Leah there was no reason to panic. Only now does her expression look too perfect.
Charlie frowns at Paddy before saying, ‘What are you talking about? I can hear her tinkering away in the kitchen right now!’ Charlie’s voice grows louder, loud enough for Mel to come check on them.
‘Charlie, is everything alright?’ Mel says, looking between from Charlie, to Leah, to Paddy—who has a singular tear falling down her cheek.
‘Dad?’ Paddy pleads when Charlie remains silent.
Leah places her hand on her grandfather’s arm, and Charlie reacts like he’s been burned, ripping his arm out of Leah’s reach and storming off the couch.
‘Dad!’ Paddy says again, this time, shock coats her voice. ‘Why did you do that?’
Paddy shuffles down the couch and takes Leah’s hand, who is sitting ramrod straight, unsuccessfully blinking back tears.
‘It’s fine. Everything is fine.’ Charlie says, throwing his arms up in frustration, before turning to Mel. ‘Who are you anyway?’
‘Oh…well… I’m Mel, your nurse. I was just making us all some tea, remember?’
‘No,’ Charlie shakes his head, ‘my wife is making us some tea, she’s in the kitchen right now.’
Silence.
‘Ally,’ Charlie calls.
More silence.
‘Ally, you alright in there love?’
‘DAD!’ Paddy yells this time, and Leah can feel Paddy’s hand start to shake again in hers. ‘Mum’s name isn’t Ally, and she’s not here.’
Ignoring what Paddy says, Charlie storms to the kitchen. Leah, Paddy, and Mel all wait in heavy silence, tracking his movements through his loud, quick footsteps, until they stop. Leah feels the slow seconds pass, anticipation and nerves growing the longer the silence stretches.
‘Charlie?’ Mel calls, ‘Are you alright?’
The sound of footsteps starts again. This time the steps shuffle in a slow pace as Charlie’s feet feel harder to pick up and leave the kitchen. Without saying a word, Charlie re-enters the living room, his shoulders a little more rounded than usual. He sits back down in his spot on the couch, his eyes trained on his hands left as dead weight in his lap. Leah takes Charlie’s hand, tears shining in her eyes, and says,
‘Are you okay?’
Without looking up, Charlie quietly says, ‘Rita. Her name was Rita.’
