**Diary Entry**
I pushed the garden gate, and it swung open without a soundwell-oiled hinges, smooth as anything.
«Good job, Tom,» I muttered under my breath.
Of course, it had to be the neighbour looking after things. Who else?
I crossed the yard, dropped my rucksack by the porch, then took another slow walk around, as if making sure everything was still in its place. My fingers brushed the round, rusted latch on the front door.
The key, though
Tom had one, but I didnt fancy knocking. Besides, I was bone-tired from the journey.
Then I remembered. Reaching above the doorframe, my fingers found the spare, still looped on its frayed black cord. The key slid into the lock with a soft click, and the door opened easily.
Stepping inside, the porch curtainsthin, embroidered thingsfluttered in the breeze. Emma had stitched those. The thought made my chest tighten.
I moved through the house without turning on the lights. The air smelled like homethat old, familiar scent of wood and memories. My eyes burned, and my heart hammered like it wanted out of my ribs.
Blast it. My pills were still in the rucksack.
I fetched them, slipped one under my tongue, and waited for the pounding to ease. The ringing in my ears dulled, though my temples still throbbed. No matter. Itd pass.
I sat. And for the first time in ages, I felt peaceful.
Home.
«Whos there?» A voice called from the open doorway. «Eh?»
«Just me, Bill.»
«Arthur? That you?»
«Aye.»
«Whereve you been? Your Emily came round with some folkssaid you were in hospital, no one knew what was happening.»
«Theyll be waiting a long time,» I chuckled. «What folks?»
«Who knows? City types. Emily kept showing them around. Reckon they were buyers.»
«Well, never mind. No use dwelling. The missus has stew onfancy joining us?»
«Nah, Im all right, Bill. Thanks for keeping an eye on the place.»
«Dont be daft,» he fussed. «Come on, just a quick one?»
«Ta, but Im home.»
«Suit yourself. Ill be back in a tick.»
Like Id go anywhere. This was my house.
I sat by the window till dawn, watching the sun creep over the sill. Stretching stiff limbs, I wandered outsidechecked the shed, the woodshed, the garden. All tidy.
Near midday, an engine growled up the lane. A car. Emily in a new motor, maybe?
But nostrangers, laughing, hauling boxes and suitcases. What the devil? Emily How could she? Sold the house behind my back?
«Excuse me, whatre you doing here?»
«We live here now,» piped a little lad, barely four, tilting his head at me. The others ignored me, unloading their things.
«Live here? Who says?»
«We bought it,» the boy said.
«Bought it? From who?» I slammed the door shut, but they just pushed it open again, moaning about the draught. Draught? The windows were shut tight.
«Ill call the police!» I growled, barricading myself inside, but they forced their way in.
«Hinges need oiling,» one bloke muttered.
Emily my own daughter. Couldnt wait to sell me out. Where was I supposed to go?
«Grandad, will you live with us now?» the boy asked.
«No! And you wont live here either!» I snatched up old photo albumsour memories, mine and Emmas and Emilys.
«Ring the previous owner,» the woman ordered. «Andy, shut the doorstuffs blowing everywhere.»
«Mum, is this grandad staying?» The boy pointed at my portrait.
«Enough, Mikey! Thats the old owner. Pack it upwell return his things.»
«Return? I AM the owner!» I locked myself in the bedroom, heart racing.
«Grandad, whyre you cross? Have a sweet.»
«Ta, lad. Why wont they listen?»
«Dunno,» he shrugged. «They dont listen to me either.»
They were calling someone. Emily? Good. Shed explain herself. I wouldnt even shoutjust ask her to give these people their money back. How could she do this?
They kept packingEmilys childhood drawings, photos. I grabbed one: her scribble for Armed Forces Day. And now? Shed sold our home while I still breathed.
Then she arrived.
«Emily, love» She swept past, just like her mum used to. «Emily!» I chased her. «Im here!»
«She cant hear you, Grandad. None of them can.»
«What? You can.»
«Yeah. They say Im fibbing.»
«Hows that?»
«Watch. Mu-um! Dyou see this grandad?»
«Mikey, enough!»
«See? They dont.»
«But you do?»
«Yeah.»
«Wait. Emilymy daughter, in the red coatshe cant see me?»
The boy ran to her. «Emily, can you see your dad?»
«What dad?»
«Mikey, thats it! Go to your room!»
«Im her father! Tell her Im here!»
The boy shouted, «He says whyd you sell the house? Wheres he sposed to live?»
The room froze.
The woman crouched. «Mikey you really see him?»
He nodded.
«Describe him.»
He didperfectly.
«Its a childs imagination,» someone muttered.
But the boy relayed my words: «Remember our first flight? You screamed, Dad, the clouds are fluffy underneath!»
Emily went white.
«And how you hid from geese? Sat under the apple tree, waiting for one to bonk your head? Year Six, you thumped Liam cause you fancied himthen his mum turned out to be my first crush?»
«Dad?» Her voice cracked. «Where is he?»
«Here.» The boys small hand gestured beside her. «He didnt say the important thing before, so he came back. I love you, Em. Ill always be near.»
The room dissolved into tears.
Emily sat on the bench, the boy beside her, whispering.
«Dad,» the boy said softly, «its time.»
«Daddy» She clutched him, weeping.
«Hes gone. But he said hes close. And Lucys having a boy.»
«What? The scan said girl! Lucys in labour now»
Her phone rang.
«Hello? A boy? But we picked a girls name!»
She stared at the sky, smiling through tears.
*Thanks, Dad and goodbye. The wind stilled. The garden gate clicked shut on its own. And high above, a single cloud drifted, shaped just like a fathers hand waving.
