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The reason she’s so upset becomes clear when I open the fridge. Aside from butter, there’s only a half-eaten pork pie and an inch of milk at the bottom of the bottle. The food cupboards hold nothing more than a half full botte of tabasco and an ancient bag of pearl barley. How long has Grandad been living like this?
“The bread’s in the bin,” Grandad says. “Doris, bring her a jar of buckwheat.”
I’m not sure what buckwheat is or what to do with it. But Doris delves into one of many cardboard boxes stacked up against one wall and fetches a jar with a dark liquid inside. I open the lid and realise it’s honey; it smells rich and strong. He must mean buckwheat honey.
As I mash the carrots and potatoes, Doris, without a word, sets the table for two.
“Aren’t you eating with us?” I ask, unsure about the arrangement.
“Of course, she is,” Grandad insists, and she adds another plate and fork.
Grandad needs help getting out of his chair and he leans heavily on my arm as I lead him to the table. “Grandad do you prefer a tray?”
“Nothing wrong wi’ my legs,” he growls.
He may be able to walk, but he keeps his arms close as if his shoulder aches and the collar makes it impossible to turn his head. So, when I help him sit, I move the other two place settings to the opposite side of the small kitchen table so he can see us both without having to turn.
We finally sit to eat – potato and carrot mash with a sprinkle of Tabasco and a drizzle of honey. I had to be generous with the butter because the milk is for the tea. Even so, there’s only enough for two, so I have my tea black. Dessert – toasted bread and honey – is by far the best part of the meal.
“This is delicious,” I say, helping myself to another slice of bread and buttering it before drizzling with the dark honey.
“They’re special, our buckwheat flowers. O’ course there’s some on the other islands but nothin’ like here,” Grandad says. “Doris, you can show Elodie all the different kinds we have.” He waves a hand at the stacked boxes of honey. “Take her to see the hives, too.” Then he turns to me. “She can tell you about all the special flowers that feed the bees.”
A look of panic crosses Doris’ face for an instant then she smiles tentatively at him and nods. It’s only then I realise she hasn’t said a single word since I came in. The other interesting thing is that my grandfather, whom I’ve always known to speak gruffly, is much gentler with her.
After lunch, Doris tries to wash up, but I insist on doing it myself. Grandad’s eyes follow her as she silently leavesto go home.
“How long has she been working for you?” I ask when we’re alone.
“Work for me? No, no. She’s a sweet girl, her parents died and left her alone. She likes working with the bees, so I let her have a go.”
“But she was trying to cook earlier.”
He sighs heavily and his hands play with the fringing on the blanket over his knees. There’s a faraway look in his eyes. At last, he says, “She had a dark time lately. Went to Jersey after some fella that played a cruel trick on her, then she got into bad trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
He sighs heavily. “Never mind. Some people was just born evil. Doris wasn’t like tha’ before, she had a job in the post office and was a chatty little thing. I try sendin’ her on little errands. Should get some of her confidence again.”
“So, I take it she’s now relaxed enough around you to come here and help out?”
“She’s come on a long way, even speaks sometimes. When she gets to know you. I let her do the shopin’. She thinks I need help, so she makes herself try. Went to the village today to buy the chicken and carrots. It’s good for her to mix with people.”
I think about this while I scrub the surfaces. If he sent her out shopping this morning, then why is the fridge empty?
“What’s happened with the shop since your accident?”
Grandad pauses for a fraction of a second. “It’s fine. Nothing’s happened to it.”
“I mean who is minding it?”
He waves a hand carelessly. “It’ll wait till I’m better.”
Which means he’s running out of money.
“I’ll go to the village for some milk, do you need anything else?”
He needs everything, but he’s too proud and I don’t want to embarrass him.
