Page 22 of Take Her On

They both burst out laughing. Grandma moved to the kitchen table to collect her leather handbag. Her gaze drifted over the room before landing on Maya again.

“You know what you need to do? Tabl—”

“Tablets at eight, yep.”

“And if he’s in pain—”

“He can have two more from the red box.”

Grandma smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “Thank you, love. I appreciate you being here. I know it isn’t always easy.”

“I’d do anything for you and Grandpa.” Maya swallowed the lump in her throat, surprised by the honesty that had come out of her mouth.

“And we’d do anything for you.” Grandma cupped Maya’s cheek with her hand, a gesture that made her feel seven years old again. Grandma had to reach higher to touch her now, but her hands were still as soft and still smelled like vanilla. She flashed Maya another smile—this one genuine. “I’ll see you later, then. And hands off those chocolate biscuits, eh?”

With a wink, she disappeared out of the kitchen.

A little later, with the house quiet and tidied, Maya headed up to Grandpa’s room with his tablets and two hot cups of tea. She knocked softly on the door with her elbow, barely balancing the tray in her arms. Inside, the room was dark; Grandpa’s profile was lit by the strange elephant light that used to scare her when she was younger. She placed the tray on the table and gestured to the taller lamp in the corner.

“Do you mind if I turn this on?” she asked.

“I might turn t’ dust,” he commented, his broad Yorkshire accent drawling through. “But go ahead.”

Maya smiled, glad to see his humour was intact. These were generally good days. He was still unable to walk much, his movements slow and shaky, but conversations with him were similar to conversations with pre-stroke Grandpa.

The extra light highlighted the stains on the cream carpet—evidence of dropped food or drinks, even the nose bleeds he suffered occasionally. The room needed a good dust, too. She made a mental note to clean this weekend.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?” she asked.

Grandpa’s mouth drew up at one side. “You usin’ me as an excuse not to study?”

She let out a laugh. “You got it.”

“Very well.”

She relaxed into the soft blue armchair beside him and handed him his non-spill cup and straw. “It’s hot. So wait a few minutes.”

“Bossy, just like ya grandma.” He smiled. “How’s football goin’? You started the season yet?”

“A couple of weeks. Can’t wait.” The university season was shorter than most owing to the smaller number of teams in the league, which meant a November start. The top two teams, without a doubt, were Millton and the Harriers, which was why those games always had so much weight to them every year. They were ultimately the championship deciders.

“Give ’em hell, kid.”

“You know it, Grandpa.”

The titles for Only Fools and Horses crossed the screen, and Maya smiled. For as long as she could remember, he’d watched this TV show, chatting about Del and Rodney like they were real friends of his. It had annoyed her when she was younger, but now their voices were like another part of the furniture—just as much as Grandpa’s bad DIY attempts were. It seemed Grandpa also wasn’t a fan of change. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, not when everything in his life had flipped overnight when he got sick.

The thought sobered her, and she sipped at her tea, burning her tongue.

A strangled noise came from Grandpa’s seat. Maya’s head snapped to him, catching him reaching forward for the remote.

“You want me to get it for you?” she asked.

He grunted, his arm shaking as he finally snatched the remote from the table. Maya waited as he slowly surfed through the menu, eventually landing on the recordings tab.

“Do you want a different episode?” she blew into her cup, trying to stay patient.

He continued down the screen, almost all the way to the bottom of the list, and settled on an old recording of Tracy Beaker, a show she used to watch as a kid.