Joining the Dots

Chapter 6

It's 6:30 by the time I finish with Cam. It's too late to go back to sleep. Too early to start getting ready for my shift at the pub. And so I busy myself... no, distract myself. I do the laundry, washing up, hoovering, organising, ironing and by 9 the house is spotless. I check on Cam but even with all my clattering, he still sleeps, well I would say soundly but every now and then he snorts... at least he's breathing I guess.
I shower and get changed into my work gear. The material is scratchy and faded but I can't complain, I need the job.

I would normally go for tea but today is a coffee kind of day. I pour myself a cup and grab an apple from the fridge. I bite into it, the sweetness bursting in my mouth. I flick the tv on - no signal - great. I take a slurp of the hot coffee and literally miss my mouth - just great. I don't have another shirt to change into, the company is stingy with their uniforms, and now no time to change anyway. I sponge it off the best I can and hope the stain isn't too visable. Today is going super.

I cycle to work, past the old wooden sign, and to the dingy back entrance of the pub. For the next six hours my shift drags, it's a Tuesday and there's no football on - so it's dead. Washing the dishes I have plenty of time to think and to overanalyse. I think of Cam and his wall of not letting people in. Despite his bubbly self, I worry that he is as lost as I feel. Me and him, Just two people who don't really know where they are in life. Two people who are so different but so alike.

Then I count the days to my recital, only 5 days now. Will I be ready? Will I mess it up? Probably.

Finally my shift ends. My manager asks me to do another 4 hours and I say I can't, I have rehearsals. It's not a complete lie, I do need to work on my audition piece. I've been slipping behind with practise lately and it's just not good enough. I beat myself up a lot about my harp playing If you couldn't tell.

I grab a panini and then cycle home. No one is in when I get back, Cam is gone. I assume to his uni but you never know. He's studying fashion when he actually turns up to his lectures. Maybe I'll visit Gramps today. He keeps mentioning that his garden needs some love and I'm feeling productive today. I'm sure he could use the company.

I practise for a while but don't really get anywhere. I'm frustrated with the piece and so take a break for a while to visit Gramps.

I let myself in when I arrive. I hear Gramps call,
"My Flossie, is that you?"
"No Gramps it's me, Allie." This breaks my heart. I can't remind him that gran is gone. I can't.
"Ohh, my Allie. Just in time for a cuppa" I can see him in his old red chair smiling. He winces, trying to get up.
"I'll get it, you sit there," I say.
"I'm not an invalid."
"I know, but I can still make the tea."
"Ok then dear, there are some Jammie Dodgers in the cupboard, you can help yourself. I know they're your favourites."
I make the tea and can't help but reach for some of my favourite childhood snacks.

I sit down on the floor next to his armchair and let him play with my hair, like he used to when I was a child.
"What's bothering you love?" He asks.
"Nothing."
Silence,
"Ok, I'll talk," I mutter. My Gramps can always get me to open up. He is an incredible listener.
"I'm just struggling with nerves for my audition. And Cam's been off lately." I add at the end.
"Nerves are normal my dear, but you need to channel them in a way that they make your music alive. And think of it this way, it's highly unlikely the audience will grab pitchforks and chase you from the stage."
I giggle.
"And worrying about it now isn't going to make any difference to the outcome of your audition. It just stops you from enjoying the moments you have now. As for Cam, the lovely lad with the beret?"
I nod, smiling.
"Hmm, from what I know of him, he is a strong character. He will bounce back. And he has you as a friend, my poppet, and that will help him though tremendously."
"Thanks Gramps," I wonder if he's always been this wise or if it's a thing that only comes with age.

After guzzling my tea and watching an episode of Only Fools and Horses (a programme constantly on repeat in this house) I get to work in Gramps' garden. He objects but I do it anyway. I mow and weed, enjoying being in the fresh air. As I work towards the back of the garden, I notice daffodils lining up against the back fence. They are the first ones I've seen this year and their yellow faces make me smile. They are my Gramps' favourites too and so, after I finish the gardening, I pick a few to put in a glass on the kitchen table, like I used to years ago. They never fail to make Gramps smile when I bring them in to show him.

He is painting now as I come back into the house and even with his Arthritis, his paintings hold so much life. I glance at the image and it takes my breath away. It is a younger, happier version of my mother. Her face so free, the image as real as a photograph. My Gramps paints from memory and I can't believe how he managed to capture a perfect moment from just memory.

"Beautiful." I utter.
"Thank you. How is your mother these days?"
I don't talk to her much nowdays, she lives in California. The other side of the world. Her work, in accounting, is her life. She has never understood music. She doesn't share the urge to share emotion and creativity with others , like me and Gramps do. I don't blame her, we are just very different. I should still probably call her sometime.
"She's fine." I reply to Gramps.

I don't stay for much longer. The night is arriving and it's been a long day. So, after hugging my Gramps goodbye, I head for home and my long-awaited bed.