Big Change

Saturday morning arrived at Grandma Brand’s house with all the subtlety of a marching band.

Barry woke up first.

This was rarely good news.

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling and remembered where he was.

Then he remembered the hospital.

Then he remembered breakfast.

Most importantly, he remembered that there were probably sausages.

He sat bolt upright.

“Marmaduke.”

There was no answer.

“Marmaduke.”

A muffled groan came from the other bed.

“Marmaduke!”

“What?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Then how did you answer?”

“I don’t know.”

Barry thought about this.

“That’s clever.”

Downstairs, Mr Brand was making toast.

His brother was already there, drinking coffee.

“Morning,” said Mr Brand.

“Morning.”

Barry climbed onto a chair.

“What are we having?”

“Toast.”

Barry looked disappointed.

“Anything else?”

“Cereal.”

“Anything else?”

“Fruit.”

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

They both looked at Mr Brand.

“Is there bacon?”

Mr Brand sighed.

“Yes.”

Barry smiled.

“Good.”

Last night, the doctors had phoned.

They had talked through Grandma’s condition and what would happen next.

The decision had been made.

Grandma would need to move into a care home.

It wasn’t an easy decision.

Grandma’s house was her home.

It was where she had lived for years.

Where she had brought up her family.

Where Mr Brand and his brother had grown up.

Where Christmases had happened.

Birthdays.

Arguments.

Celebrations.

Ordinary Tuesday evenings.

All the tiny things that turn a building into home.

And now she might have to leave it.

“We don’t know how she’ll feel,” said Mr Brand.

“She might be upset.”

“She probably will.”

“Maybe.”

“Grandma is going to have to move somewhere where people can look after her properly.”

“Like a hotel?”

“Sort of.”

“Does it have a swimming pool?”

“No.”

“Cinema?”

“No.”

“Buffet?”

“Possibly.”

Barry thought about this.

“Then it’s not very good.”

Everyone laughed.

Even Mr Brand.

But then Barry’s expression became serious.

“Will Grandma be sad?”

Mr Brand nodded.

“She might be.”

“Because she has to leave her house?”

“Yes.”

Barry thought for a moment.

“Can she take the house with her?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s attached to the ground.”

Barry frowned.

“That sounds like poor planning.”

They drove to the hospital together.

The journey was quieter than the day before.

Barry looked out of the window.

Marmaduke sat beside him.

Mr Brand and his brother spoke quietly in the front.

When they arrived, everyone went upstairs.

Grandma was awake.

She smiled when she saw them.

“Hello, my darlings.”

Barry ran over.

“Grandma!”

Marmaduke followed.

For a few minutes, they talked about breakfast.

Barry told Grandma that he had eaten bacon.

“Three pieces,” he said proudly.

“Four,” corrected Marmaduke.

Barry frowned.

“One of them was very small.”

“It was still bacon.”

“Barely.”

Grandma laughed.

Then Mr Brand sat beside her.

His brother sat nearby.

The room became quieter.

Barry didn’t understand exactly what was happening.

But he knew this was important.

Mr Brand took Grandma’s hand.

“Mum, we need to talk to you about something.”

Grandma nodded.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I’ve been listening to the doctors.”

Mr Brand took a breath.

“We think it would be safer for you to move into a care home.”

There was silence.

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

Neither spoke.

Grandma looked down at her hands.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she nodded.

“I think you’re right.”

Mr Brand looked surprised.

“You do?”

Grandma smiled sadly.

“I don’t particularly like it.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to leave my house.”

“I know.”

“I’ve lived there for so long.”

“I know.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“But I know I can’t manage everything on my own anymore.”

Mr Brand squeezed her hand.

Grandma took a shaky breath.

“I’m frightened.”

Barry’s face crumpled slightly.

“You don’t have to be frightened, Grandma.”

Grandma looked at him.

Barry stood beside her bed.

“We’ll come and see you.”

Grandma smiled.

“I know you will.”

“And Marmaduke will come.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“And Alfie.”

“Definitely.”

Grandma laughed through her tears.

“Well, then perhaps I’ll be all right.”

After a while, the adults needed to talk privately again.

The nurse walked the boys back into the waiting room.

“Now,” she said, “you three can sit here.”

Barry looked around.

“Is there Connect Four?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

Marmaduke sat down.

Barry looked at the game.

Then he noticed something.

There was a door nearby.

It was open.

And inside was a room.

Barry peered through.

“Who’s in there?”

An elderly man was sitting by the window.

He looked across.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” said Barry.

The man smiled.

“My name’s Brian.”

“I’m Barry.”

“And I’m Marmaduke.”

Brian smiled.

“Nice to meet you.”

Barry looked at the nurse.

She gave him a gentle nod.

“You can say hello, but stay where I can see you.”

Barry walked into the doorway.

Brian looked sad.

Not crying.

Just quiet.

The sort of quiet that made you want to sit beside someone.

“Are you poorly?” Barry asked.

“A little.”

“What’s wrong?”

Brian smiled.

“I’m just feeling a bit lonely.”

Barry considered this.

“Do you want us to come in?”

Brian’s face brightened.

“I’d like that.”

So they did.

Brian told them about his garden.

He told them about his old dog.

He told them he used to watch football every Saturday.

Barry looked impressed.

“Did you play?”

“When I was younger.”

“Were you good?”

“Not bad.”

“Did you score lots?”

“Sometimes.”

“More than Dad?”

Brian laughed.

“I don’t know your dad.”

“You should meet him.”

Brian smiled.

“I think your dad can probably manage without me.”

Barry looked disappointed.

Then he noticed a photograph on Brian’s bedside table.

“Who’s that?”

“My wife.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jean.”

“Where is she?”

Brian looked at the photograph.

“She died a few years ago.”

Barry went quiet.

He didn’t know what to say.

Marmaduke gently asked, “Do you miss her?”

Brian nodded.

“Every day.”

Barry thought about Grandma.

Then he looked at Brian.

“Grandma’s going to move house.”

“Is she?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to visit her?”

“Yes.”

Brian smiled.

“Then she’ll be lucky.”

“Why?”

“Because having visitors makes all the difference.”

Barry nodded solemnly.

“I can visit lots.”

Marmaduke added, “Me too.”

Brian looked at the three boys.

“Well, perhaps I’ll get some visitors too.”

Barry immediately nodded.

“Yes.”

Barry turned directly to Brian.

“We’ll try.”

Brian smiled.

“That would be lovely.”

Eventually the nurse came to collect them.

“Come on, boys.”

Barry stood up.

“Bye, Brian.”

“Bye, Barry.”

“Bye, Marmaduke.”

“Bye.”

“It was nice meeting you.”

Brian smiled.

“Same here.”

As they walked away, Barry whispered, “He’s nice.”

“Yes,” said Marmaduke.

“He looked sad.”

“Yes.”

“So we made him less sad.”

“I think you did,” said the nurse. 

Barry looked pleased.

“I’m very good at that.”

Back in Grandma’s room, the mood had changed.

She had been crying.

Then laughing.

Then crying again.

Then telling Mr Brand about a woman she’d met years ago who apparently had “the worst haircut in Nottingham”.

She was frightened.

Sad.

Confused.

But she was also beginning to talk about the future.

“What if I don’t like it?” she asked.

“You’ll tell us.”

“What if I hate the food?”

“We’ll find somewhere else.”

“What if everyone is boring?”

Mr Brand smiled.

“You’ll educate them.”

Grandma laughed.

“True.”

She looked at the boys.

“And I suppose I’ll have an audience.”

Barry raised his hand.

“I can be your audience.”

Marmaduke raised his hand too.

“Me too.”

Grandma wiped her eyes.

“Then perhaps I can do this.”

She wasn’t suddenly happy.

She wasn’t magically no longer frightened.

But she was brave.

And sometimes brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.

Sometimes it means you’re scared and you do the thing anyway.

By late afternoon, everyone was exhausted.

The hospital had been emotional.

There had been tears.

There had been difficult conversations.

There had been laughter too.

The boys had met Brian.

Grandma had made a decision.

And Mr Brand felt, for the first time in days, that perhaps there was a path forward.

On the way home, Barry fell asleep.

Marmaduke lasted another ten minutes.

Then he fell asleep too.

From the back seat came a sleepy voice.

“Dad?”

“What?”

“Can Grandma have Connect Four in her new room?”

Mr Brand laughed.

“I’m sure we can arrange that.”

“And chips?”

“Barry.”

“I’m just planning.”

Marmaduke, still half asleep, mumbled:

“More chips.”

Mr Brand laughed.

And suddenly the whole car felt lighter.

Grandma’s future was going to be different.

The family home would eventually become a place of memories rather than everyday life.

There would be difficult days ahead.

But there would also be visits.

Stories.

Tea.

Laughter.

And, if Barry had anything to do with it, an absolutely enormous amount of Connect Four and chips.

When they reached the house, Barry woke up.

He climbed out of the car, stretched his arms and looked at the others.

“Tomorrow,” he announced, “we should visit Brian.”

“Why?”

“Because he might be lonely.”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

Then he looked at Marmaduke.

“Should we take him some chips?”

Marmaduke nodded enthusiastically.

“You can’t just take hospital patients chips.”

Barry frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because there are rules.”

Barry looked deeply suspicious.

“Adults always have rules.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what Grandma needs?”

“What?”

“A new house.”

“Yes.”

“And Brian needs friends.”

“Yes.”

Barry smiled.

“So I think I’ve solved everything.”

And with that, the three boys went inside.

It had been a sad day.

A tiring day.

A frightening day.

But it had also been a good day.

Because sometimes life changes in ways you don’t choose.

Sometimes you have to leave places you love.

Sometimes you feel frightened.

Sometimes you cry.

And sometimes, when everything feels a bit too much, a four-year-old boy arrives carrying a Connect Four game and asks whether you want to talk about chips.

And somehow, that helps.

Especially if his best friend is there too.