by Helen Rolfe
Veronica didn’t miss the amused edge to Sam’s serious expression as she asked Layla to explain the colour scheme. She was humouring the little girl, involving her in their family, and although Veronica knew she’d done a lot of things wrong over the years, she also knew she must have done something right with Sam because she was a beautiful person inside and out. Sometimes she just didn’t realise.
Layla held one end of the kindness calendar and with it unrolled, Audrey held the other as they went through the tasks. One day had ‘Make a gift for someone in need’ so they’d covered that with the wishing tree idea they’d discussed earlier and Layla was already happy she’d get to wrap the presents.
‘Bake a treat for the postman,’ Sam read out. ‘That’s easy. Mum, you’re the best baker in Mapleberry.’
‘I don’t know about that, and remember, you all have to help.’
‘We’ll bake together,’ said Sam, surprising everyone, even herself by the looks of things.
It was many, many years since Sam had stood at her side in the kitchen and helped her mix a batter, ice a cake or weigh out ingredients to come up with something delicious. But if she was willing to give it a go, so was Veronica.
Veronica took a deep breath. She wondered if she closed her eyes for too long, would this all disappear? It had been such a quiet house before, with loneliness soaking into the walls until Layla, Audrey and Sam had come along.
Veronica needed a focus and turned her attention back to the calendar. ‘I was looking at that same square earlier and I have a better idea. I was on the Mapleberry Village Facebook group this morning and someone was moaning away about the bin men, how they don’t always come on the right day, having a good old go at them he was.’
‘You’re thinking we bake him poisonous muffins?’ Audrey suggested.
Veronica loved that her granddaughter had developed a sense of humour in her time here. ‘Of course not. But I was thinking, postmen always get thanks, I’ve left biscuits for mine before now, but the bin men get nothing but grief and garbage. Let’s bake something for them too. And you can add it on the calendar in one of the free squares, although there aren’t many this month.’
‘Your teacher is very enthusiastic,’ Sam remarked. She took a pen and wrote it into one of the free squares.
Veronica noticed a look between Layla and Audrey but then they both agreed, it was a fine suggestion. They’d make Veronica’s legendary brownies with the white chocolate chips and box up a few batches as there were a number of men who came each week on the various bin trucks. ‘You might have to get up a bit earlier,’ she teased Audrey, ‘they usually come before noon.’
‘Very funny. I’ll set my alarm on bin day, don’t you worry.’
‘I’ll get all the ingredients for the brownies, Mum, if you could leave me a list,’ said Sam.
‘I’ll be at school when they come,’ Layla complained.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Veronica, ‘you’ll be making them and boxing them up so you’ve played your part.’ She patted the little girl’s hand. ‘Now, how about we have your piano lesson before your dad turns up to get you. You need to practise for those carols, remember.’
Sam stayed in the lounge to read her book and Audrey headed out to see friends, meeting an approving look from her mum. Veronica knew what it was like. When your child was happy, part of you couldn’t help but be content. Despite any other problems, that one simple thing always had the power to ground you and make you realise things weren’t so bad.
Veronica went into the study. ‘Remember your posture,’ she prompted Layla, who was sitting on the piano stool. Layla immediately sat up a little straighter. ‘Let your arms relax and have freedom, put all the weight into your fingers.’ She wasn’t sure Layla really got what she meant but Veronica could feel in her mind what it was like to play the piano. She sneaked on here sometimes when Sam and Audrey were out; it was an escape right here in her house that she hadn’t realised she needed until Layla got her playing again.
Layla had four Christmas carols in her repertoire and was improving each time she practised. One of the items on the calendar this month, Veronica had been delighted to see, was a simple – ‘Do something special for someone’ – and the carol concert for Charlie would mean they could all play a part. Veronica was coaching, Layla was the performer ready to put a smile on her dad’s face, Audrey would make refreshments for the evening and Sam would be taking photographs that Layla could show off to all her classmates.
Charlie collected Layla an hour later and Veronica started preparations for dinner. She loved cooking for people, but over the last month they’d drawn up a bit of a rota so Audrey and Sam could help out, but the kitchen was still Veronica’s domain and where she felt comfortable.
Sam appeared beside her, book still in her hand. She stretched languorously after sitting in the same position so long to read. ‘What’s on the menu tonight?’. Her reading glasses suited her: chunky dark frames that contrasted with her thick blonde hair.
Veronica tore off leaves from a cauliflower and discarded them in a pile for the compost. ‘Cauliflower cheese. Don’t tell me you’ve gone off it,’ she said when she caught Sam’s look.
‘I love it. The look is because in all these years I’ve never been able to make it quite like yours, no matter how hard I tried.’
‘What cheese did you use?’
‘Vintage cheddar, I swore that was what we’d had here too.’
‘Full-fat cheddar?’
‘Low fat,’ Sam confessed. ‘Is that where I went wrong?’
Veronica had seen Sam’s lean stomach when she stretched a moment ago, her pale pink shirt riding up to show her skin. ‘This is a good cauliflower cheese recipe, but it’s not exactly healthy,’ she confessed. ‘Well, apart from the high vegetable content of course. My recipe uses full-fat cheddar, double cream and whole milk.’
Sam whistled through her teeth. ‘I won’t fit into any of my clothes if I eat too much of that.’
‘Should I do something else? Maybe cauliflower curry?’
‘No! Not a chance.’
Veronica glowed inwardly. This had been Sam’s go-to dinner when she was in primary school. ‘I’ve got some ciabatta to cut up to go with it too.’
‘Careful, Mum, or I may end up coming back for dinner even when I move out.’
Veronica daren’t look at her daughter because she hoped for nothing less.
Dinner lived up to expectations just as Veronica had hoped it would. The cauliflower cheese was creamy, golden-topped and oozing with cheesy goodness. And Audrey informed her that they would be having that again and she’d be buying the cauliflower too. When Veronica told her that Layla and Charlie had grown cauliflowers in their veggie patch and they tasted even better, Audrey’s only question had been whether Gran would start her own veggie patch here.
‘She’s so much happier, don’t you think?’ Sam asked when Audrey left them to it so she could go upstairs and FaceTime Sid.
Veronica piled her plate on top of Sam’s, putting the cutlery on top and did the same with Audrey’s before taking them all over to the sink. Sam brought the remains of the cauliflower cheese that would keep in the fridge until tomorrow. They could all fight over who got it for lunch. ‘The girl who landed on my doorstep in the summer would never have been interested in cultivating vegetables.’
Sam laughed. ‘Don’t I know it. Coming here has been good for her, Mum. It’s more laidback being in a village; she had space she’d never have had at home and that alone has helped her more than I even thought it would.’
‘It’s partly your doing, you know. This isn’t only because Audrey came here.’
‘It’s a very large part of it,’ Sam insisted.
‘It’s also your doing because you recognised she needed something and you made a decision. You’re a good parent, Sam.’
‘I’m not sure about that. I haven’t told her about Simon and what he said – that’s not exactly exemplary parenting.’
‘That ex-husband of yours has made his mess and expects someone else – you – to clear it up. That’s not on.’ Over time, since Sam had arrived in Mapleberry, she and Veronica were extending their conversations. Veronica was no longer quite as hesitant around her daughter and it worked both ways. There was a time Veronica wouldn’t have dared to share her opinion, particularly when it came to Sam’s life or anybody in it.
‘It’s not on, but I do have to be the one to tell her. I just need to find the right time. She’s so happy here at the moment, being part of this club you all started. I want to thank this teacher of Layla’s – I hope she realises the magic she’s worked for us!’
‘Hopefully for a lot of other families too.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Sam filled the sink with soapy water to wash the pans that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.
‘Audrey is so kind and patient with Layla. And that is down to you, Sam, not anybody else. She’s been brought up properly. She knows right from wrong.’ When Sam didn’t look so sure, she added, ‘I don’t mean all of the time, no child does, they test the boundaries. But Audrey’s heart is in the right place and if you’re patient, she’ll see the truth in time.’
‘The truth about Simon?’
Veronica paused, putting down the cloth she’d used to wipe the cooker. The cauliflower’s overzealous boiling had left remnants on the flat surface of the induction hob but they came off easily enough. ‘Yes, but not only about him as a person, I’m talking about you and him as a married couple, as her parents. She’ll see that there are always two sides.’
Sam seemed to be thinking hard about what she was saying and as Veronica took out the bin from beneath the sink and twisted the top of the liner into a knot, she said, ‘Are you talking about me and Simon, or you and Dad?’
‘I was referring to you and Simon,’ Veronica explained, ‘but also to me and your dad.’ She hesitated. It felt wrong to speak ill of the dead. But he was gone and she was here, and there was nobody else who could let Sam know what it had been like for her. ‘You worshipped him, he could do no wrong in her eyes.’ Veronica looked directly at her daughter. She never would’ve done when Sam first arrived, she’d avoided eye contact, proper conversation; she was so worried that any confrontation would be the last of it and poof, loved ones would be gone from her life for ever. But having her and Audrey here, spending time with Layla, having more of a focus with this calendar business and a life on social media, had started to make Veronica feel brave.
Last night Veronica had even put her first post up in the residents Facebook group, a yule log recipe that she’d had for years and made tweaks to – instead of having a smooth creamy filling, she added some chocolate chunks to it for texture and surprise, rather than only using a fork to create the log markings. She did this but also added holly and ivy made out of fondant at one end. She’d become absorbed in the conversations on other Facebook posts where people were sharing table-decorating ideas, favourite recipes, techniques for cooking a turkey. She’d leapt right in and used other peoples’ posts to model hers on so she knew what to say, what not to. And when she’d pressed enter she’d felt nervous but excited, connecting with people outside of this house for the first time in years. She’d already had thirty-three likes and eight comments – people were talking to each other, and they were talking to her!
‘Leave those pans, Sam, I’ll wash up.’ Veronica’s tone was so firm that Sam took the hint and stepped back from the sink.
This enormous upheaval in Veronica’s life – Audrey coming, and then Sam – had been the best possible thing, and she’d welcomed it! But right now, so close to sharing all her feelings with her daughter, she needed a moment to gather herself. And the washing up, the wiping down surfaces and putting utensils away was the normality she needed.
Sam left her to it and after Veronica cleared the kitchen, put all the big pots and pans away and set the dishwasher to take care of the rest, she got her knitting bag from where it lived in the corner of the lounge and sat down in her favourite chair. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be disturbed for the rest of the evening. She’d already finished knitting a rich plum jumper for herself and in the same wool she was about to make a start on a hat for Layla. Layla loved wearing bright colours; her dark ginger hair suited her for that very reason.
Veronica got out her circular needles, tied a slip knot in the wool at one end and knitted eighty-eight stitches. She made sure they weren’t twisted, used a safety pin to mark the beginning of each subsequent round, and then she was off. It was knit one, purl one and the therapeutic clickety-clack of the needles let her mind drift. Luckily for her, despite her lack of outside life, her body didn’t seem too troubled by the experience. So many others her age had arthritis; she’d watched a program about it and it could affect the hands and fingers, but Veronica was thankful hers seemed to be working as deftly as they always had.
As she knitted, Veronica’s mind flitted to her new-found group on Facebook. She enjoyed the interaction from behind the screen, it didn’t make her feel panicky at all, and there was one member of the group in particular who had caught her interest. Morris Alby was the name he went by and he’d not just ‘liked’ her post about the yule log, he’d ‘loved’ her post. He’d written a whole paragraph about his lack of culinary skills, including amusing anecdotes such as the time he left giblets in the chicken, when he misread how much flour to use in pancake batter and ended up with something he could’ve used to wallpaper his living room, and the time he left some of the film from the packaging on his new frying pan and ruined both his dinner and the vessel. Morris was talkative, but he wasn’t one of those moaners. Veronica had sniffed a few of those out fairly quickly, the kind of people who posted a complaint rather than something positive, and then when others joined in, they replied with more and more whinging and whining. It was sometimes entertaining to read, she had to admit, but Morris’s comments were much more interesting.
In fact, Morris was part of what Veronica liked to refer to as her spin-off group on Facebook. There were just four members – Veronica, Morris, Bridget and June, all roughly the same age and – as they’d realised from reading each other’s posts – all interested in the same topics, like cooking, gardening, quiz shows on the television and the odd film. Slowly Veronica was finding connections outside of her own home. She smiled to herself – this wasn’t just something she could mark off on the kindness calendar, it was something she could keep for herself.
‘Nice colour, Gran.’ It was Audrey, coming downstairs to make some toast, as she often did. Her teenage body seemed to need the fuel at all hours of the day and evening, and Veronica had got used to her appearing just when she thought the house was quiet.
‘What are you watching?’ Audrey stood in the doorway waiting for the toaster to pop up.
‘I’m knitting, waiting for something good to come on.’ It sounded better than admitting she enjoyed the television for the noise, the company. On the screen was a documentary about dairy farming, probably quite interesting if she hadn’t been daydreaming as she knitted. She’d not needed background noise quite so much lately, what with her newly discovered social media outlet as well as two others in the house and Layla and Charlie’s visits, but it was part of her norm, part of what calmed her, especially after her earlier conversation with Sam when she’d almost laid out all the truths, told Sam exactly how much help her father had been to her over the years when her problems felt insurmountable.
‘Mind if I eat this upstairs?’ Audrey asked when she’d buttered her toast and slathered it in marmalade.
‘Go on,’ she smiled. She’d spent too long living by her own rules that even she was tired of them. What was the worst that could happen? A few crumbs dropped or a splodge of butter if Audrey wasn’t careful. It didn’t really matter, did it?
‘Thanks Gran, you’re the best.’ And she came right over and kissed her on the cheek, taking Veronica quite by surprise. ‘I said I’d Facetime Sid a
gain – he’s got a date and I need to hear how it went.’
Audrey swept out of the room leaving Veronica wondering what had just happened. Audrey was blossoming before her very eyes, becoming chattier as time went on. Yesterday she’d told Veronica how keen she was on this boy Alex who had apparently picked up her textbooks for her the other day when she dropped them in the corridor in a rush to get to her next lesson. Veronica had wondered whether soon enough her granddaughter would have her first date with this boy. He certainly put a smile on Audrey’s face and smiling was something Audrey seemed to be doing a lot more of these days.
Veronica laid down her knitting, too distracted to carry on. There was a distant murmur from upstairs in Audrey’s bedroom so she assumed she’d managed to contact Sid. It was good she had a friend. She knew Sam hadn’t been keen on the boy but now suspected like her, she was pleased Audrey had people on her side. And she was often out too, always going for coffee or to the movies with a group of others.
The television still didn’t have much to choose from after Veronica flipped through the channels so she picked up her laptop from the study and brought it in so she could log on to the Facebook group. She started with the residents main group and replied to comments on her yule log recipe about the strength of chocolate she used, whether she’d tried fresh cream in the centre. Someone else had shared a recipe for rum truffles and Veronica copied it down so she could give it a go. She went from there into the closed group where Bridget was asking whether anybody knew someone who could fix up her shed come the spring. Veronica recommended her gardener Trevor and it led to all four of them sharing photographs of their gardens, which they agreed would be riots of colour in the right season. None of them wanted to rush it, but they were starting to form a real friendship, and Veronica felt her happiest in this little group. Could it be a tiny slice of a new beginning?
Audrey came back downstairs and washed her plate, as the dishwasher was full. When she first arrived in the summer she would’ve left it for Veronica, as well as the butter out on the side, and a used knife on the benchtop. But she was a pleasure to be around these days.