Last Day at my Granny's

Jamie McIntyre

Whatever I had been doing earlier that day I can't remember now but at about two o'clock on that Saturday I was standing on the platform at Glasgow Central, waiting for the train to take me out to the wee town where my Granny lived. Twenty-seven years old and I was dreading it like a child in the dentist's waiting room. The train came and I got on sitting in a sort of daze while folk got on and off until it was my time to get up.

I took my time wandering up the hill. It was hot and the sun made everything glow, the trees, the hedges and the clouds were all radiant, even the dust in the gutters could have been gold. It felt surreal, my eyes bursting with colours when inside I felt so dull.

When I got to the house I went through the rusted back gate that I used to get told off for swinging on when it was shiny. I opened the backdoor and shouted to let her know I was here. The kitchen wasn't looking itself. It had always been spotless with everything in its place but the last few months it had changed. 'Tatty' she would have called it but she had other things to worry about. We all did.

There had been four falls in the last month, all stemming from hurting her back, pulling on her tights. That had seemed funny when she had laughed, wincing and told us about it. 'I'm a silly old fool,' she had said.

Her balance hadn't been great before but now with her back she had to walk slowly, like a tightrope walker to avoid twisting. Then came the falls. Every one had been another strain, landing her in hospital each time. It had been a stressful period, especially for my Dad who had found her each time.

I didn't get an answer to my call so I made my way into the living room. She was perched in her armchair chair, tiny and distorted. The smart wee woman with her makeup and cottage loaf hair was a million miles away from the bedraggled soul sitting in the leather armchair. She looked at me with exhausted eyes as I came in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Had she eaten and she told me oh aye, that Joe had been in and made her some mince and potatoes. Did she want a coffee? We were all chain coffee drinkers. She wouldn't drink one but I could help myself.

When I went back through, she had her eyes shut dozing so I waited, drinking my coffee and looking out at the trees she loved, swaying beyond the green hill at the front. The house was peaceful. She didn't want the telly or the radio on when she wasn't well, so I waited until she opened her eyes and apologised for me sitting there on my own. I told her not to be daft and asked if there was anything she needed. 'Some of my mash son,' she had answered. The town supermarket she said.

I walked down to the centre of the town. I had grown up here but nowadays I only came through to visit her. In the supermarket, Wullie McTaggert was putting turnips onto a shelf in the veg aisle. Wullie had got a part time job there on the twilight shift when he was fifteen. I wanted to say hello but it never seemed right. Strange day.

I got back to the house and opened the fridge to put the mash in. There was a pack already there. I went back into the living room all jolly and told her she already had mash and there I had went all the way down the town. The way she apologised, like she was ready to cry wasn't her, and I told her I was joking. I enjoyed the walk.

I made another coffee and noticed her cigarette holder and leather cigarette pouch unused on the kitchen table. I hadn't noticed she didn't have them. Things were bad if she wasn't smoking.

I carried my cup back through to the living room. She had nodded off again and so I sat and sipped in silence. The floor needed hoovered. I had been going out every other Sunday for years doing her hoovering, polishing and dusting and cleaning all the mirrors and windows. I would have sparked up the hoover now but she needed the rest. She was worn out.

I heard the back door opening. It was her oldest friend Isabel in. I gave Isabel my seat and sat on the couch.

My Granny opened her eyes and noticed Isabel there.

'Oh it's you hen.'

'Aye it's me Betty. I'm up to see you. Are you needing anything?' 'No Isabel hen.' I offered Isabel a wee cup. When I came back in Isabel told me to head off. It was Saturday night. My Granny joined in, 'Aye away you go son. I don't want you stuck in here.' I asked if they were sure and big Isabel insisted that the two of them had girl talk and they didn't want any men hanging around listening. My Granny had laughed for the first time since I'd arrived.

I thanked Isabel for coming then bent down and gave my Granny a hug. In the hug I could feel how frail she was, bones with barely anything round them trembling in my arms. I told her goodbye and I loved her and I'd see her tomorrow. She said she loved me too and gave me a wee brave smile. I left with Isabel waving from the window and walked down the dusty pavement. I was glad Isabel was with her.

I went back home and drank too much wine to try and forget how she had looked. The next morning I got the call. She was away.