Long way home

Sunday morning at Grandma Brand’s house began unusually peacefully.

There was no shouting.

No crashing.

No small child announcing that he had discovered something “extremely interesting” in a cupboard.

This lasted for approximately seven minutes.

Then Barry appeared at the bottom of the stairs wearing his pyjamas, one sock and a saucepan on his head.

“I’m ready.”

Mr Brand looked up from his coffee.

“For what?”

“Breakfast.”

“Why are you wearing a saucepan?”

Barry looked genuinely puzzled.

“I couldn’t find my hat.”

“But that’s not a hat.”

“It is today.”

Marmaduke wandered into the kitchen.

“Can I have one?”

“No,” said Mr Brand.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a saucepan.”

Marmaduke thought about this.

“Can I have some cereal instead?”

“Excellent choice.”

Barry removed the saucepan.

It left a red mark across his forehead.

After breakfast, the grown-ups talked.

Grandma was still in hospital, but she was improving.

That was good news.

Very good news.

Mr Brand’s brother had decided to stay in Leicestershire for a few days. He would help Grandma begin sorting and packing some of her things.

It was going to be a strange job.

Not just packing boxes.

Packing memories.

Grandma would eventually move into the care home Mr Brand had previously visited and looked around.

But nobody was rushing to sell the family home.

They would see how things went.

If Grandma settled in happily, perhaps the house could be dealt with later.

If she didn’t, they would think again.

There was no need to decide everything at once.

Barry listened to the conversation.

“So Grandma is moving?”

“Yes.”

“And the house is staying?”

“For now.”

“Who’s going to live in it?”

“Nobody.”

Barry frowned.

“Then who’s going to turn the lights off?”

“We’ll do it.”

“Who’s going to make sure the heating works?”

“We will.”

“Who’s going to check for burglars?”

“We will.”

“Who’s going to feed Steve?”

“He has a home already you know?”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

Then he looked serious.

“Because I don’t think Marm is strong enough.”

Marmaduke dropped his spoon into his bowl. 

“I could beat a burglar.”

Barry shook his head.

“Not if he’s really big.”

“I’d call your Dad.”

“Oh.”

Barry thought about this.

“That’s probably sensible.”

Before heading back to London, they went to the hospital one more time.

Grandma looked brighter.

She was sitting up in bed, drinking tea.

“Well,” she said when the boys came in, “look who’s back.”

Barry ran over.

“Grandma!”

Marmaduke followed.

“How are you?” asked Mr Brand. 

“Better.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Barry inspected her carefully.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel poorly?”

“A little.”

“Do you feel hungry?”

“Not especially.”

Barry looked concerned.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“That’s serious.”

Grandma laughed.

“I’ll be fine.”

Barry nodded.

He seemed reassured.

Then he remembered something.

“Grandma?”

“Yes?”

“When you go to the new home, can I visit Brian?”

Grandma looked puzzled.

“Brian?”

“The man we met yesterday.”

“Oh! The gentleman from the hospital.”

“Yes.”

Grandma smiled.

“Of course.”

Barry nodded.

“I think he needs us.”

Marmaduke added, “He likes talking.”

Grandma laughed.

“Then he’ll definitely like you.”

“Brian told us visitors make a big difference.”

Grandma reached out and squeezed Marmaduke’s hand.

“They do.”

There was a quiet moment.

Then Grandma looked at Mr Brand.

“I’m still frightened.”

“I know.”

“And sad.”

“I know.”

“But I’m beginning to think about what it might be like.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“That’s a good thing.”

“I might make some friends.”

“You will.”

“I’ll have people around.”

“Yes.”

“And if they’re boring…”

Grandma’s eyes twinkled.

“I’ll talk to them until they’re interesting.”

Barry laughed.

“That sounds like you.”

Grandma smiled.

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

Eventually it was time to leave.

Nobody liked saying goodbye.

They all knew they would see Grandma again.

But goodbyes are still goodbyes.

Barry hugged her tightly.

“Bye, Grandma.”

“Bye, darling.”

“Don’t worry.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“And remember…”

“What?”

“You can call Dad if you need him.”

Grandma smiled.

“I know.”

“And Mum.”

“Yes.”

“And Marjory.”

“Of course.”

“And me.”

Grandma laughed.

“I think I’ll be hearing plenty from you.”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

The drive back to London began quietly.

Leicestershire disappeared behind them.

The roads stretched ahead.

Fields passed the windows.

Marmaduke looked out.

Barry was unusually quiet.

Marmaduke was staring out of the window.

Mr Brand drove.

After a while, Barry asked:

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Why does Grandma have to move?”

Mr Brand thought carefully.

“Because she needs more help than she can safely have at home.”

“But she likes her house.”

“She does.”

“Then why can’t people just help her there?”

“Sometimes that’s possible. But Grandma needs more care than we can provide at home.”

Barry nodded.

“Like when I broke my arm?”

“You didn’t break your arm.”

“Oh.”

“You fell off your bike.”

“My arm hurt.”

“I know.”

“But I didn’t break it.”

“No.”

Barry considered this.

“So Grandma needs more help than I needed?”

“Much more.”

“Okay.”

There was another stretch of silence.

Then Marmaduke spoke.

“Will Grandma still be Grandma?”

Mr Brand smiled.

“Of course.”

“Even in the new place?”

“Absolutely.”

“Will she still tell stories?”

“Yes.”

“Will she still laugh?”

“Yes.”

“Will she still tell Barry off?” Marmaduke added, with a sideways smile.

Mr Brand glanced in the mirror.

“Oh, definitely.”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Will Grandma be happy there?”

Mr Brand took a breath.

“I hope so.”

“What if she isn’t?”

“Then we’ll talk about it.”

“Could she come home?”

“We’ll see.”

“I think it’s scary.”

“It is.”

“She’s leaving the place she’s lived for ages.”

“Yes.”

“Would you be scared?”

Mr Brand smiled sadly.

“Probably.”

“I think that’s why she’s brave.”

Mr Brand looked at him in the mirror.

“What do you mean?”

“She knows it’s scary, but she’s doing it anyway.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“Exactly.”

Barry had been listening.

“So brave means doing something scary?”

“Sometimes,” said Mr Brand.

“Like going on a big rollercoaster?”

“Yes.”

“Like going into the dentist?”

“Yes.”

“Like eating broccoli?”

Mr Brand laughed.

“That’s something else entirely.”

“I think broccoli is scary.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“It is.”

The motorway stretched ahead.

It was a long journey.

And long journeys, as everyone knows, are dangerous places for questions.

Because once a four-year-old discovers that there is plenty of time to talk, there is no escape.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Why is the sky blue?”

Mr Brand explained.

“Why are cows in fields?”

Mr Brand explained.

“Why don’t cows live in houses?”

Mr Brand explained.

“Why don’t people eat grass?”

“Barry.”

“What?”

“Because we’re not cows.”

“Could we if we wanted?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Mr Brand sighed.

“Because—”

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Do fish get thirsty?”

Marmaduke giggled.

Mr Brand smiled.

“That’s a very good question.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later Barry was asleep.

Marmaduke followed.

And the car became peaceful again.

As the London skyline loomed, Barry woke up.

“Are we home?”

“Nearly.”

“Did I miss anything?”

“No.”

“Did you think about Grandma?”

“Yes.”

Barry looked at the back of his dad’s head.

“What did you say?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Barry thought about that.

“Okay.”

Then he looked out of the window.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we get chips?”

Mr Brand laughed.

“Why?”

“Because we’ve had a very emotional journey.”

Marmaduke, still half asleep, lifted his head.

“Chips?”

“You two are unbelievable.”

Barry smiled.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”

By the time they reached home, everyone was tired.

Properly tired.

The sort of tired where even taking your shoes off seemed like a large administrative task.

Mr Brand unpacked the car.

Mrs Brand carried their things upstairs.

Marmaduke went home with Marjory.

Barry stood on the doorstep.

He looked at his dad.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Is Grandma going to be okay?”

Mr Brand knelt down.

“We’re going to make sure she is as okay as we possibly can.”

Barry nodded.

“Good.”

Then he hugged his dad.

“Because I love Grandma.”

“I know.”

“And she loves me.”

“She does.”

“And she likes talking.”

“She does.”

Barry smiled.

“She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Mr Brand laughed.

“I think you’re right.”

Barry walked inside.

Then he stopped.

“Dad?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow is Monday.”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean school?”

“Yes.”

Barry looked horrified.

“After everything we’ve been through?”

Mr Brand laughed.

“One more week of hols for you the three of you, so you can relax.”

Barry sighed dramatically.

“I need another week.”

Alfie appeared at the top of the stairs.

“You’ve just had one.”

“Not enough.”

“That’s not how holidays work.”

Barry looked at him.

“Then holidays need improving.”

And with that, Barry disappeared upstairs.

Mr Brand stood in the hallway, listening to the thudding footsteps.

He smiled.

The weekend had been difficult.

There had been sadness.

There had been uncertainty.

There had been decisions that nobody really wanted to make.

But there had also been laughter, conversations and the quiet reassurance that they were all in it together.

Grandma would have a new home.

The old family home would remain for now.

Mr Brand’s brother would stay and help.

And the rest of them would keep visiting, talking and making sure Grandma never forgot how loved she was.

Sometimes you couldn’t fix everything in one day.

Sometimes you couldn’t even fix it in one week.

Sometimes you simply took the next step.

And then the next.

And, if Barry was involved, occasionally you stopped for chips.

Which, everyone agreed, was probably quite sensible too.