Give birth as soon as you can, croaked Grandma Mary, sliding her legs off the bed.
Mary was in her eightyseventh year, and shed long ago forgotten what it felt like to be young. Still, her grandson and greatgrandson kept nudging her, sometimes tapping her with a cane.
Stay in your blue stockings and youll be thinking of the old days, love, but itll be too late, theyd warn.
Now Mary stared at the ceiling, refusing to rise, hurling curses at the householdWhat did I raise you lot for, you lazy slugs, to nap until noon?while pots clanged in the kitchen at half past six in the morning.
The family tensed.
Grandma, asked fiveyearold greatgranddaughter Poppy, why dont you swearing at us any more?
Just a little while longer, dear, Mary sighed, her breath heavy with the thought of an end, either mournful for the life slipping away or hopeful for something beyond the stew youve all forgotten how to make.
Poppy fled to the cramped kitchen where the rest of the clan lingered.
Grandma Marys groundhog is dead! she announced, fresh from a hurried recon.
What groundhog? asked the head of the family, also Marys eldest son, Edward James, raising his bushy eyebrows. He looked like a character from an old folk tale, the kind where the wind walks the streets.
Probably just an old one, Poppy shrugged. Shed never seen the creature; it was Marys secret.
The elders exchanged glances.
The next day a composed, restrained doctor arrived.
It seems the old lady isnt well, he said bluntly.
Obviously, Edward slapped his thigh, else why would we call you?
The doctor glanced first at Edward, then at his wife, Margaret.
Its agerelated, he continued without hesitation. I dont see any serious abnormalities. What are the symptoms?
She stopped telling me when to cook lunch or dinner! Margarets voice fell. All her life she poked me with her nose, saying my hands werent right for anything, and now she wont even step into the kitchen, she added, her tone trembling, already feeling the weight of another elder.
At the familywide council with the doctor they all agreed the signs were alarming.
Exhausted by worry, they lay down as if they could sink into sleep.
In the night Edward woke to the familiar scuff of slippers on the floor, but this time the sound wasnt urgent, didnt demand an immediate rise for breakfast or work.
Mum? he whispered as he stepped into the dim corridor.
A detached voice drifted from the darkness. Whats the matter?
I thinkwhile youre still asleepIm slipping out for a date with Mick Jacobs, Mary murmured, a hint of lucidity returning. Where else am I going but the loo?
Edward flicked the kitchen light on, set the kettle boiling, and sat at the table, clutching his head.
Starving? Mary stood in the hallway, eyeing him.
Yes, Im waiting for you. What was that, Mum?
Mary shuffled to the table. Ive been holed up in my room for five days, she began, when a pigeon smashed into the windowbang! I thought it was a death omen. I lay down, waiting for the day to pass. The second, the third and now I wake in the dead of night wondering, Would that omen have gone off into the woods to the wild folk, letting me burn through life under these sheets? Bring me tea, hot and strong. Weve barely spoken these past three days, son, and well have to catch up.
Edward finally slipped into an exhausted sleep just after five in the morning, while Mary remained in the kitchen, determined to make breakfast herselfno one else could feed the children properly if she didnt.
