A Taste of Home Read online

  ‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m fine. In fact, this is the first time in a while that I’ve felt properly like myself.’

  Thankfully he bore absolutely no resemblance to the confused old man I’d seen, shouting and flailing about, the day I arrived. His brow was smooth, his manner relaxed and there was even some colour in his cheeks.

  ‘You aren’t feeling the cold, are you?’ I asked, worried that the rosiness could be the result of the air which might have felt fresh to someone who had been indoors for a while.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m cosy enough with all these blankets. Although, I still can’t get properly comfortable. What I wouldn’t give for a night in my own bed, and how Eliot has stuck it on the floor, I’ll never know.’

  ‘He’s a saint, isn’t he?’

  ‘He is that,’ my grandfather agreed. ‘And then some.’

  ‘I did suggest he could nap on the spare bed where I’ve been sleeping.’

  His gaze shifted from the cat to my face. ‘Staying in the house, are you?’

  Damn. My nerves had started to dissipate and in their place my ability to blurt had popped back up again.

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, quickly composing myself. ‘Just to make sure Eliot had some back-up until you were over the worst. You’ve been very poorly you know.’

  I was quite proud of the speedy justification for my sleepover, and reminding my grandfather that he’d been properly poorly might make him think that what occurred on Saturday was just a dream. Assuming he could remember any of it, that is.

  ‘Well, that’s very kind,’ he nodded, taking a moment to gauge my expression, which I kept as neutral as I could. ‘Clearly you’ve both gone above and beyond. Are you and Eliot an item, by any chance?’

  My face flushed brightly enough to more than match his and my regained composure and impartial appearance flew straight out the open window.

  ‘Why on earth would you think that?’ I stuttered.

  ‘I thought I heard you having words yesterday,’ he smiled. ‘And wondered if perhaps it was a lovers’ tiff, but given the look on your face,’ he added with a chuckle, ‘perhaps not.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ I firmly said. ‘Our relationship is purely professional. We did have a slight disagreement about something yesterday and I’m very sorry if it disturbed you.’

  ‘No harm done,’ he shrugged, clearly amused by my reaction.

  I mentally crossed my fingers and toes hoping he hadn’t heard the cause of our raised voices.

  ‘That’s very generous of you,’ I said, standing up again, ‘but I am sorry we bothered you. I think it would be best if I left you in peace now. Eliot and I won’t disturb you again, Mr Brown and he’ll be back to take over soon.’

  My grandfather looked at me and shook his head.

  ‘I think we can drop the title, don’t you? Mr Brown is a little on the formal side.’

  ‘William, then,’ I smiled, thinking I’d got away with it. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? I’ll call you William or Bill.’

  ‘Not Grandad?’

  For a second or two the world seemed to stop turning, then it started up again like a super slow-motion sequence beloved by movie-makers, before finally coming back into focus. I groped for the chair behind me and sank into it.

  ‘Grandad,’ I swallowed. ‘Why would I call you that?’

  ‘Because you’re my granddaughter, aren’t you?’

  He sounded completely unfazed by the pronouncement he had just made, but I was floundering. Should I deny who I was, or confirm it? Was this the moment I had been waiting for? It didn’t feel like the moment I had been waiting for. That moment was supposed to be decided upon by me, Eliot and Louise. They were supposed to be holding my hands and helping me take those teeny tiny steps we’d talked about and yet, here I was with my grandfather, the very person we were trying to protect and he was pulling me along the path and telling me to get a wriggle on and take bigger strides!

  ‘I’ve often wondered if Jennifer had a girl or a boy,’ he further shocked me by saying. ‘If I had a granddaughter or a grandson somewhere in the world.’

  Tears prickled my eyes and I looked down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

  ‘You knew she was pregnant?’ I whispered.

  ‘I had a pretty good idea,’ he quietly said.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  ‘I knew she’d had a holiday romance,’ he carried on. ‘And you look to be about the right age, and then of course there was your name. You told me Saturday that it’s Felicity, didn’t you? Same as my dear wife’s. That’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d remember that,’ I said, my voice constrained as I had to force the words over the lump in my throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What are you apologising for?’

  I shrugged, unable to say that I was sorry his daughter, my mother, was dead and that it had taken the acknowledgement of her impending demise for her to finally tell me that he existed. That could all come later.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for,’ he said. ‘She was the one who ran away. I just want to know, are you my granddaughter, Felicity?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, looking up at him through my tears. ‘Yes, I am. I am your granddaughter.’

  Chapter 8

  ‘What do you mean, he knows?’ Eliot frowned as I relayed the details of what had happened in his absence.

  The supermarket pharmacy hadn’t got the prescription ready when he had finally arrived, having weaved his way through the bank holiday traffic, and then there had been some mix-up which meant he’d had to call Doctor Clarke, so he’d been gone ages and arrived back in a far less happy mood than the one he’d left in.

  My grandfather and I, or Grandad, as he was now insisting that I called him, hadn’t got any further than establishing our relationship to one another but that was more than enough for either of us to get our heads around and looking at the expression on Eliot’s face and the colour that had flooded it as I explained what had happened, I realised that it was a shock for him too, coming straight on the back of his hot and tiresome trip out.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he grimaced as he tried to shrug himself out of his leather suit.

  His hair was plastered to his head and his T-shirt clung to his chest. The outfit obviously wasn’t easy to get off when he was so hot. As in temperature, I reminded myself as I looked anywhere but at his taut muscles straining to free themselves from their leather confines.

  ‘Me neither,’ I told him. ‘It turns out we hadn’t been quite as clever, or as quiet, as we thought we had over the last couple of days.’

  I didn’t mention that Grandad had heard us arguing because I didn’t want to bring that particular topic back up again, but I did rush to grab the pile of papers, including my list, which the air blowing through the house had whipped up.

  ‘And he’d worked out why the curtains were being kept shut,’ I added, thinking of the other clever deductions Grandad had made which would have rivalled Hercule Poirot himself.

  ‘The canny old bugger,’ Eliot tutted. ‘And why is it so breezy in here?’

  ‘Because I’ve opened some windows,’ I told him, securing the papers with an empty mug.

  ‘Bill won’t be used to this sudden change in temperature,’ Eliot pointed out, making my desire to freshen things up a bit feel rather reckless. ‘It was hot in the hospital and I’ve tried to replicate that here and bring it down gradually.’

  ‘Damn. I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think about that.’

  I really needed to leave the caring side of things to Eliot. He was the expert, after all.

  ‘I take it you’re another fresh air fiend?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I suppose I am a bit. Though not at the cost of Grandad’s health of course.’

  Eliot looked at me and smiled. It wasn’t quite the reaction I expected, given how hot and bothered he was.

  �
�What?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s nice to hear you call him Grandad,’ he softly said.

  He was right. It was a little strange, but it felt good too.

  ‘You aren’t cross about what’s happened then?’ I asked him.

  ‘Of course, I’m not,’ he said, laying a hand on my shoulder and making my heart skip.

  I wilted with relief. At least, I think it was relief.

  ‘If anything,’ he said, letting out a breath, ‘it’s a weight off my mind, and I bet you feel the same, don’t you? Bill working it all out has saved us a whole lot of heartache.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, lowering my voice to a barely audible whisper. ‘It is a relief that he knows, but I’m still dreading telling him about Mum. That’s going to have to happen sooner rather than later now, isn’t it?’

  Eliot gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, running his other hand through his hair. ‘I suppose it is. That’s one conversation…’

  ‘Eliot!’ called Grandad, cutting him off.

  ‘Yes, Bill,’ Eliot called back.

  ‘Can I have a word please lad?’

  Eliot looked at me and grimaced.

  ‘I’m going to be in the doghouse,’ he said. ‘I bet I’m going to get an earful for not letting on about you.’

  ‘Shall I come in with you?’ I offered.

  The last thing I wanted was for Grandad to blame Eliot for anything. After all, I was a grown woman and had I really wanted to, I could have left on Saturday rather than given in to his and Louise’s coaxing.

  ‘Best not,’ he said, standing tall. ‘Better if I face the music alone.’

  I paced about the kitchen, unable to listen in on what was being said because the doors were closed, but there were no raised voices. I was certain I would have been able to hear if either of them was shouting.

  I kept purposefully busy and was hanging out the washing when Eliot came back out of the house. He was already wearing his leathers again and obviously in a hurry.

  ‘Oh crikey,’ I said, throwing the handful of pegs back into the basket. ‘He hasn’t banished you, has he?’

  ‘No,’ Eliot laughed. ‘Nothing like that. And you can stop fretting because he didn’t tell me off. Well, not quite. He was very understanding, given the circumstances. He’s aware of how poorly he was and that if we’d said anything sooner, he wouldn’t have been able to make head or tail of it.’

  ‘That’s a relief then, but where are you off to in such a rush?’

  ‘Vicky just called. There’s not enough staff to do the rounds today, so I’m going to help out.’

  ‘But you’re on holiday,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I’m not really though, am I?’ he said, nodding back to the house. ‘I was already looking after Bill.’

  ‘But who’s going to look after him now?’ I panicked, thinking again of Saturday even though I knew Grandad was much better. ‘I don’t know what to do with him.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Eliot said, climbing astride the bike in one swift and smooth movement. It was rather arousing but I tried to focus on the matter in hand. ‘Bill’s well on the mend and you’re my trainee remember,’ he added, waggling his eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t tease,’ I flushed. ‘It’s hardly the moment.’

  ‘Well,’ he mercilessly carried on, ‘Bill did say that you were keen to point out that our relationship was purely professional.’

  ‘Did he?’ I said, turning red again.

  ‘Which is a shame,’ Eliot said, his eyes meeting mine and causing my heart to judder, ‘because I thought there was a bit of a spark between us.’

  ‘Did you?’ I squeaked.

  ‘I did,’ he huskily said, making me tingle. ‘I still do.’

  I self-consciously scuffed at the ground with the toe of my plimsoll and felt about thirteen. I’d sensed he’d felt something that first time he’d clapped eyes on me and it was a thrill to know my spark was reciprocated. Perhaps we might, as Grandad had put it, become an item at some point in the future.

  ‘But you were right, Fliss,’ Eliot then burst my loved-up bubble by saying. ‘Given the circumstances, what with me being Bill’s carer and you having only just arrived, we should keep things on a professional footing. It wouldn’t do any good to start something up when you’ve still got so much to discover and deal with, would it?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ I reluctantly agreed.

  I imagined my fiery sparkler being shoved into a bucket of sand before I had even drawn so much as a love heart with it. Its sparkling charm was completely extinguished.

  ‘You and Bill are going to be having some difficult conversations and working through some tricky times and what you’ll both need more than anything is a friend, isn’t it?’ Eliot carried on. ‘And I’d really like to be that person, Fliss. For you as well as him.’

  It was an extremely kind offer and given the limited number of people I knew here in Wynbridge I considered myself most fortunate to have Eliot’s wonderfully broad shoulders to cry on. I knew I could call the Rossis and tell them what was happening, but a proper hug and a sympathetic ear close by, was going to be much appreciated in the days to come.

  ‘I’d like you to be that person, too,’ I said, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. ‘Thank you, Eliot.’

  We looked at each for a moment and then he pulled his helmet on and started the bike.

  ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘And don’t worry about looking after Bill. Between you, you’ll be just fine.’

  I finished hanging out the washing, told myself I was fortunate to have Eliot as a friend, and that I must set my lustful feelings for him to one side. He was right, a new relationship would be an added complication neither of us needed right now. With a resigned sigh, I went back inside to check on Grandad.

  ‘And what are you up to now?’ I tutted, when I found him with the bed covers pushed back and his feet resting on the floor.

  ‘Has Eliot gone?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The knight in shining armour has mounted his trusty metal steed and gone to rescue someone else. You didn’t tell him off for not letting on about me, did you?’ I asked, just to make sure.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s a good lad and I know he had my best interests at heart. He always does. And besides, I daresay, his mother had more to do with you staying on here than anyone else, didn’t she?’

  Nothing escaped this man’s notice.

  ‘Never mind that now,’ I said, not wanting to dob Louise in. ‘What exactly are you planning to do?’

  ‘I just want to have a stretch,’ he said. ‘I’ve been in this blasted bed too damn long.’

  ‘But I don’t know what to do,’ I said, feeling nervous.

  ‘Do?’ he chuckled. ‘You haven’t got to do anything. Other than make sure I don’t end up on my backside!’

  I had to laugh at that.

  ‘Here,’ I said, stepping forward. ‘Let me just help you up.’

  We took a couple of very slow turns around the room, as much for my confidence as Grandad’s benefit, and then went into the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve been tidying up,’ he said, noticing the less cluttered dresser and the fresh flowers in jars along the windowsill.

  ‘I hope that’s all right? I’m not very good at twiddling my thumbs and I wanted to make myself useful.’

  I didn’t mention my list-making.

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly done that,’ he smiled approvingly. ‘It all looks lovely. The place has missed having a woman’s touch. Not,’ he added with a wink, ‘that we’re supposed to say such things in these enlightened times.’

  I thought I’d let him get away with it, just this once.

  ‘Do you know,’ he yawned. ‘That’s me done. It’s been quite a morning, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly has,’ I agreed.

  I was pretty tired out myself.

  ‘Do you think it would be all right if I had an early nap?’
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br />   ‘I think it would be fine,’ I told him. ‘Let’s get you back into bed.’

  * * *

  I had hoped that once Eliot had been to help whoever Vicky had drafted him in to take care of, he would come back and take over with Grandad again, but there was no Ducati rumble either nearby or in the distance and that was a shame, because there was something specific I wanted to do that went beyond doling out pills and straightening sheets. Something that I hoped we would be able to do for Grandad together.

  Steeling myself to be brave and think positive, even though I was flying solo, I mentioned it to Grandad.

  ‘I have a feeling Eliot isn’t going to make it back today, and I don’t know how we’ll manage it between us,’ I told him, ‘but we’re going to try and get you up those stairs and into your own bed tonight.’

  There, I’d said it.

  ‘There should be a set of instructions from the hospital physio about here somewhere,’ Grandad immediately said. ‘She printed them out to remind me how to go up and down stairs and steps safely.’

  The fact that he hadn’t said he’d manage another night in the single bed was proof enough that he really did want to be back in his own space and I resolved to do whatever was needed to make that happen.

  ‘Your paperwork from the hospital is in a file in the kitchen,’ I told him, remembering seeing Eliot look through it. ‘I’ll get it out and then we can read the instructions together and,’ I added, ‘as you’ll be sleeping in there tonight, would you mind if I went into your room and gave it an airing?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he smiled. ‘There are already clean sheets on the bed, but some more fresh air would be most welcome.’

  ‘You can’t beat it, can you?’ I smiled back. ‘I’ve always got the windows open. Mum moans about it all the time in the winter.’

  ‘She was the same when she was growing up,’ Grandad told me, thankfully not noticing the tears I tried to blink away as I realised not only what I’d said, but that I’d been struck by the realisation that Mum would never feel the cold again. ‘Always moaning about being cold, right from autumn through to spring…’ His words tailed off and then he added, ‘You can air her room too, if you like. Have you looked in it yet?’