AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I want to say something, but an oversized lump of concern is wedged in my throat and blocking all words. My mother is suddenly so full of hope. I think this is even worse than seeing her upset. Her denial is breaking my heart.
Mam opens the brown bag and looks inside. ‘Oh, these look delicious, Holly. Thank you.’ Her smile grows. ‘I’ll heat these up in the microwave and I’ll make fresh coffee, of course.’
My mother walks towards the kitchen looking taller than yesterday. As if the weight that usually drags her shoulders forward and down is missing.
She stops midway and turns her head to look at me. ‘Thank you, Holly. You’re a great kid.’
She jerks her head back again so quickly it looks like it hurt, but I don’t miss the tears welling in her eyes. I realise I’m wrong. My mother isn’t in denial. It’s the exact opposite. She needs a distraction. Nana’s manuscript has become mine. If coffee and scones work for my mother, I’ll go to the bakery every day for as long as necessary. I’ll go ten times a day if I have to.
My phone vibrates in my coat pocket, and I guess it’s the office or Nate, or Nate calling from the office. I don’t want to speak to anyone. Especially nothim. I slide my hand into my pocket and hit the reject button as I make my way upstairs.
The curtains are open in Nana’s bedroom and a fresh bouquet of flowers sitting in the centre of the windowsill catches my attention straight away. They’re beautiful. Pink lilies – Nana’s favourite. I wonder where they came from.
‘Oh, Holly, you found it. You found Annie’s sketchbook,’ Marcy says, throwing her arms around me, startling me. I’d been distracted by the flowers and hadn’t seen her come towards me.
‘Yeah. Ben and I found it in the attic last night,’ I say.
‘Wonderful. Just wonderful,’ Marcy says, letting me go.
I drag my gaze away from the fresh flowers to find Marcy’s smile. ‘But it’s a book.’
Marcy eyes widen.
‘I mean it’s a book-book. Not a sketchbook,’ I explain. ‘It’s all words. Handwritten. A story. I can’t believe it’s been hiding up there all these years. I wanted to read some to Nana straight away, but she was already asleep.’
‘A writer,’ Marcy says as if everything suddenly makes sense to her. ‘Of course, she is.’ Marcy takes her coat from the back of the bedside chair and slides her arms into the sleeves.
She’s leaving.My apprehension must be written all over my face because Marcy offers me an explanation. ‘I’m heading home now,’ she says gently, ‘but I’ll be back this evening. I’d love to hear some stories from this book of Annie’s. I bet it’s fascinating reading.’
Marcy buttons up her coat, reaches for my hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘One of my colleagues from the day team will pop by this afternoon. Annie will be fine in the meantime, Holly. She’s very comfortable. I promise.’
I look at the bed for the first time since I walked into the room. I’m not being rude or purposely ignoring where my grandmother rests, it’s just that it still shocks me every time I look. Like I’m seeing her weary and fragile for the first time, every time. But she looks different this morning. Her face is still pale and thin, and her skin clings to her bones like papier mâché on a balloon, but her cheeks have a warm glow that wasn’t there yesterday. Not quite rosy, but brighter. Just happy. It’s because of the book, no doubt.
‘You could have started reading, Marcy,’ I say, finally. ‘I left it here for you to flip through. I thought it might cheer Nana up to hear some.’
‘No, Holly.’ Marcy shakes her head. ‘Much as I’d love to, it’s not my place. Annie wants to hear your voice. Not mine.’
I can’t take my eyes off Nana now. She’s sitting up, albeit with the aid of a small mountain of pillows behind her, and even though her eyes are closed, I know she’s awake. I can see the corners of her lips curled up to form a delicate smile. Maybe my mother is right. Maybe Nana really has turned a corner. Maybe all our prayers have been answered, and we really are getting a miracle.
‘Good morning, Nana,’ I say, edging a little closer to the bed. ‘Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?’
‘I think she’d like that very much,’ Marcy answers for her. ‘Try this spot.’ She pats the edge of the bed with the palm of her hand. ‘It’s more comfortable than that old chair, and you can easily reach her hand. She’d like that.’
‘I’m glad you and Nana waited for me, Marcy,’ I say as I take off my coat and toss it into the chair. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well, I won’t lie,’ Marcy says. ‘I got itchy fingers a couple of times.’
I laugh, but only half-heartedly.
Marcy bends down and picks up the pile of paper from under the chair. ‘Here.’ She passes the pile into my outstretched arms. ‘I know Annie can’t wait to start, but she’s been waiting for you.’
‘Maybe I should get my mother,’ I say, suddenly feeling nervous or worried. I’m not quite sure why.
‘I think this story is for you, Holly.’ Marcy points at me.
I tap my chest with my fingertip, almost dropping the paper. ‘Me?’
Marcy nods.
