The Path to the Sea

Her mouth watered as she used the dainty cake fork. At least these were pristine. The explosion of sugar took moments to hit as it reached her empty stomach and blended with the caffeine. Over Gramps’ shoulder she could see dust collecting in the corners of the bookshelves. Mixed among the local history books behind him were some of her favourite children’s books. The cake dried in her mouth as she thought of her grandmother in bed upstairs.

‘Tell me about Gran.’

He picked up his cup. ‘It’s not good.’

There was nothing Lottie could say. Gramps looked into his coffee. His hand shook.

‘Doctor doesn’t say much.’ He turned to the view. ‘She’s eighty-five . . .’ Out of the window she could see Gribben Head basking in the sun. Lottie had never known a summer like it. The atmosphere in London had been so close, but here the air was fresh with the scent of the sea.

‘But she seemed fine a few months ago.’

‘True.’ His voice was wistful, and Lottie leapt to her feet.

She knelt at his side. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too. Me too.’ He patted her hand.

Her mother walked past the door without looking in the snug. Lottie stood.

‘I hope she’s OK.’ He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Go to her.’ His voice was gentle, but Lottie understood. Gramps knew things weren’t easy with her and her mother, or for that matter between her mother and Gran. He was very intuitive. He’d read people well, especially Lottie.

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m just going to check on your grandmother. The nurse won’t be in for a bit,’ he said, pushing himself out of the chair then giving her an encouraging hug to send her on her way.

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