A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

‘Stop buggering about and give me a hand, would you? I need to get to Mrs Simpkins. Her stats were ridiculously low first thing, and I…’

The words trailed off as the owner of the voice glared up from the pile of paper she was rifling through and saw me hovering in the doorway.

‘Oh,’ she frowned. ‘Not Eliot then.’

‘Afraid not,’ I smiled, apologetically.

‘And not the doctor either.’

‘Definitely not the doctor.’

The young woman, dressed in a blue healthcare tunic, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, looked me up and down and then dumped the papers back on the table. She couldn’t have looked more annoyed if she tried.

‘So, who are you then?’ she frowned.

I cleared my throat. I really didn’t want to tell her. She was obviously neither of my grandparents and I had planned to announce myself to them before anyone else.

‘Do you not know?’ she snapped.

‘Fliss,’ I swallowed. ‘Felicity Brown.’

I knew instantly that I should have just said my first name, but her waspish manner had thrown me and I found myself in an even more heightened state of tension than I had been when I climbed out of the taxi.

‘Brown?’

‘Yes,’ I swallowed.

There was no point retracting it now.

‘You’re a relative?’ she asked, sounding slightly less peeved.

‘Granddaughter,’ I told her, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

There. I’d said it. The cat was definitely out of the bag.

‘Granddaughter?’ she repeated.

I wanted to ask her to lower her voice, but daren’t. She still looked irritated and I found her a bit intimidating, even though she was only a tiny little thing.

‘That’s right,’ I confirmed.

It was a less than satisfactory start and I felt my shoulders sag. In my head, I’d imagined finding my grandparents sitting together, perhaps enjoying a mid-morning coffee and looking through the newspaper when I rocked up, presented myself and made their day. Facing a harassed care worker before I’d even properly crossed the threshold hadn’t been part of any of the fantasies I’d indulged in. I wondered which of my two grandparents required the assistance of the aggravated carer.

‘Well, come in properly then,’ she said, looking me over again.

I shuffled into the cool kitchen and rested my rucksack against the table while my gaze flicked around the room. It was practical with a few homely touches, but not particularly tidy. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had been expecting, but this place didn’t match the comforting rustic Rossi space that I associated with country kitchens.

‘You don’t look much like a Brown,’ said the carer, narrowing her eyes. ‘And Bill’s never mentioned family to me, but then he is quite a private person, isn’t he?’

Bill was my grandfather’s name then. I wondered if it might be short for William. Mum really should have added her parents’ names to her letter, but then given the little energy she’d had when she wrote it, it was a miracle she’d got down as much as she had.

‘Mm,’ I tentatively agreed, guessing that it was most likely him who was under the weather. ‘And I’ve not been around,’ I added. ‘I’ve been abroad.’

It wasn’t quite a lie.

‘Been travelling, have you?’ she asked, sounding envious.

‘I’ve been in Italy,’ I said, my cheeks colouring.

‘Lucky you,’ she sniffed, thankfully distracted from my family connection. ‘The furthest I’ve been in the last couple of years is the other side of Peterborough and that was only for a weekend and it chucked it down the whole time. I’m Vicky, by the way.’

‘Nice to meet you, Vicky.’

‘I shouldn’t still be here,’ she then impatiently added, before checking her watch. ‘I was only supposed to get his meal sorted, but he’s not right, so I thought I’d better hang on. I called the doctor ages ago and Eliot’s supposed to be on his way too.’

I still had no idea who Eliot was but didn’t want to raise her suspicions by asking. The way she casually dropped his name into the conversation suggested that if I knew my grandfather, then I should know Eliot too.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked, now completely certain it was my grandfather who was unwell.

‘Water infection, I reckon.’

Thankfully that didn’t sound too serious.

‘He’s got a bit of a temperature and he can’t stop peeing. He’s confused too. He keeps asking for Felicity, your grandmother.’ Vicky shook her head and let out a long breath. ‘The poor love.’

My head began to spin and I gripped the edge of the table. I had my grandmother’s name. Mum had given me her mother’s name. How could she never have mentioned that in the years since I’d been born?

‘I see,’ I swallowed.

‘I haven’t got the heart to keep telling him she’s been dead for the last thirty plus years every time he starts shouting for her. It’s nice that you’re named after her though. You all right? You’ve gone a bit pale.’

I clung tighter to the table, my knuckles turning white, and nodded.

‘Yes,’ I said, my voice an octave too high. ‘I’m okay. Just a bit tired after my journey.’

But of course, that wasn’t it. I’d had no idea that my grandmother wasn’t alive. I’d been expecting to find both her and my grandfather at the farm. My cosy Nonna and Nonno dream was evaporating before my eyes. What else had I mistakenly assumed?

‘Thankfully his scar is healing up nicely,’ Vicky carried on, blissfully unaware of the blow she had just delivered. ‘So that’s something, but he’s going to be stiff when he starts the exercises again. But it can’t be helped. He’s certainly not steady enough on that new hip to carry on with them at the moment.’

‘Right.’

A water infection and a new hip. Definitely not a quick fix. My timing really couldn’t have been worse.

‘But thank goodness you’re here now,’ Vicky rushed on, smiling for the first time since I’d arrived. ‘You’ll be able to manage until the doctor gets here, won’t you?’

‘Oh no,’ I quickly shot back. ‘I’m not staying. I can’t.’

Vicky looked shocked, but not as shocked