«Thanks, Dad…goodbye,» he whispered.
He pushed the garden gate, and it swung open without a soundthe hinges had been well-oiled.
«Good ol Bert,» he muttered approvingly. Of course, it had to be Bert. Who else would look after the place?
He walked across the yard, dropped his rucksack by the porch, then took another slow lap around before stopping at the door. His fingers brushed the round brass lock out of habit.
The key…
Bert had one, but he didnt feel like fetching it. He was too tired from the journey. Then he rememberedfelt along the ledge above the door. There it was, dangling from a frayed black shoelace.
He slid the key into the lock, turned it with a soft click, and pushed the door open. The air inside smelled like homethat familiar, comforting scent hed missed so much. His throat tightened. His heart thudded wildly, and tears pricked his eyes.
Blimey. He fumbled in his pockets. No, his pills were in the rucksack. He hurried back, grabbed it, and slipped a little lifesaver under his tongue. The pounding in his chest eased, the ringing in his ears faded, though his temples still throbbed. No matter. Itd pass.
He just sat there…so peaceful.
Home.
«Whos there?» A voice called from the open doorway.
«Me, Bill…»
«Ed, is that you?»
«Yeah.»
«Whereve you been? Your Emily came round with some folkssaid you were in hospital and, well, who knows whats next.»
«Theyll be waiting a long time,» he chuckled. «What folks?»
«Dunno. Some city types. Emily kept pointing things out… Reckon theyre buyers. Anyway, dont just stand therecome on over, the missus has got supper on. Fancy a bite?»
«Nah, Im alright, Bill. Cheers for keeping an eye on things.»
«Dont be daft. Wont take no for an answercome on!»
«Ta, but… Im home.»
«Suit yourself. Back in a tick!»
As if hed go anywhere. Silly sod. This was his house.
He sat by the window till dawn, watching the sun climb. Stretched, wandered outsidechecked the shed, the woodshed, the garden. Everything tidy.
Around noon, an engine rumbled. A car pulled up. Who now? Emily in a new motor?
Laughing, chattering, they hauled out bags and boxes. Who were they? Emilyhow? His own daughter? Sold the house behind his back?
Unbelievable.
«Excuse me, whatre you doing here?»
«Were moving in! Whore you, grandad?»
«Moving in? Who said you could?»
«We bought it,» piped a little boy, barely four, tilting his head. The others ignored him, unloading like it was nothing.
«Bought it from who? This is my house!» He slammed the doorbut they just yanked it back open.
«Needs oiling, these hinges,» one bloke said.
«Im calling the police!» He tried barricading himself inside, but they muscled past.
«Grandad, will you live with us now?» the boy asked.
«Live with? No! And neither will you! Emily, whatve you done?»
They were packing up photos, his daughters drawings. He snatched oneEmilys childhood sketch for Remembrance Day. And now this? Sold his home while he was still breathing?
His home. His, Margarets, and Emilys.
Then she arrived. He rushed to her.
«Emily, love» She breezed past, just like her mum used to. «Emily!» He chased after her. «Im here!»
«She cant hear you, grandad. None of them can.»
«What? You can!»
«I can. They just tell me Im making things up.»
«Emily!» He turned to the boy. «Ask herask if she sees me!»
The boy tugged her sleeve. «Emily, do you see grandad?»
«What grandad, sweetheart?»
«Hes your dad! Hes right herehe doesnt understand why you sold the house!»
The room froze.
«Tell herremember when we flew to Spain, and you saw the clouds from above? You screamed, ‘Daddy, the clouds have undersides!'»
The boy repeated it. Emily went pale.
«Or when you hid from Mrs. Higgins geese? Sat under the apple tree, waiting for one to bonk your head like Newton? And year sixyou fancied Liam so much you kept punching him!»
The boy relayed every word. Emily trembled.
«Thatsthats what Dad used to call me. Where is he?»
«Here,» whispered the boy. «He never got to say the important thing… ‘I love you, Em. Ill always be near.'»
The room was silent. Women wept. Men wiped their eyes.
A miracle. Just like that.
Emily sat on the bench with the boy, talking softly.
«Daddy,» the boy said suddenly, «its time.»
«Dad»
«Dont cry, my Em.»
«Please»
«Hes gone,» the boy murmured. «But he said hes close. And… he said Rosies having a boy.»
«What? No, the scan said girl! Rosies in labour now»
A phone rang. Emily answered, stunned.
«A boy? Butthey told us… Oh. Oh!»
She stared at the sky, lips trembling.
«Thanks, Dad…and goodbye. He sat by the window where the light was soft, watching dust dance in the morning sun. The air hummed with the quiet of a house remembering. A sparrow landed on the sill, cocked its head, then flew to the apple tree. He smiled. The weight in his chest was gone. No more pills. No more pain. Just the breeze, the birdsong, and the faint scent of Margarets roses on the air. He closed his eyes. The house held its breath. And he was at peace.
