chapter 15 and 16 (02.11.15)

Chapter 15

Ben

The bell rang again and Ben relished standing up in his underwear in front of his brother and walking to the front door. He felt grimy and smelly but now he was at this stage of his protest (the 'I'm mad so I'm going to look ridiculous so you all know YOU'RE ridiculous' kind of protest) he couldn't back down, even though he had a feeling meeting his mother for the first time in years in nothing but dirty pants was a bad idea. He opened the door with a flourish but quickly slammed it shut when he saw who was there. 

    "Have I caught you at a bad time Ben, love?" shouted Sally from the other side of the door. 

   He didn't answer.

   "It's just that you left your wallet at the cafe and I thought id better return it, save you leaving your poor handicapped brother again."

   He raged quietly, knowing that his silence was only going to make her more persistent. He grabbed a leather coat from the hook on the wall and put it on, hoping it was long enough to cover his stained underwear. 

    "Hi Sally, um I'm sorry about that. I wasn't expecting it to be you," he said sheepishly, wrapping the coat around him and hugging his body protectively. 

   "That's alright love, though listen, you'll be wanting to change those dirty kegs before your mum gets here, that's not a good start now is it? And I expect Atta will be heading over too, you're not a pretty sight for an old woman."

    "It's Mrs Monroe," said Ben absentmindedly. 

    "Sure thing," said Sally shrugging. "Well I'd better be off. Left the cafe in the untrustworthy hands of Jim the builder, and I'll bet you a tenner he's helped himself to a kitkat. Bye then." She waddled away down the street and Ben looked at himself, suddenly ashamed at his childish behaviour. He took the coat off and walked down the hall to his room where he quickly changed, regretting that there was no time for a shower too. 

    By the time he put on a t shirt and smart jeans there was someone at the door. He suddenly felt nervous and ran his fingers through his hair. He answered the door and saw before him a slight woman with short brown hair biting her nails and glancing around as though she felt guilty. She held a plastic bag in her hands but that was all she carried. She turned to look at Ben and cried. 

    "I'm sorry," she said, sniffling and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her cardigan. "I thought I'd be ok. Hi Benji."

    "Hi."

    "You're...you're looking good Benj. So, so good."

   "Thanks." It wasn't sullenness that was making him retort with short answers, it was the inability to answer fully without feeling like he would break down. They stared at each other for a moment. Ben felt he should let her in but he wasn't ready...he needed a moment just the two of them, before Giles started reconciling them in his cheery way, before he scolded Ben for not welcoming their mother more warmly. 

    "Are you - are you ok?" he finally managed to ask. 

    She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. 

    "I'm better than I have been. In fact feeling quite good. I'm living with a friend of a friend...she's a bit posh but she doesn't mind me, so long as I pull my weight and watch master chef with her. It's a better place than I was in this time last year, I can tell you." She tried to laugh at the last part but Ben knew there was nothing funny about it. 

    He pulled back from the door and was about to ask her in when she put her hand on his arm and asked him to wait for a moment. He faltered, it was cold outside and he was freezing. 'She must be feeling it too' he thought ...'unless...?'

   "I've built up quite an immunity to the cold," she said as if she had read his mind, "I don't feel it much any more. I just want to say, before Giles tries to make things right, that I'm sorry. More sorry than you could ever know. I should never have left you, never reacted so badly when...when your father died." Although she managed to keep a steady voice Ben could see how hard it was for her to speak of him. 

    He looked down at his feet but couldn't say anything.  He stood away so she could walk past him and in to see Giles. He stood leaning against the door post for a moment, plucking up the courage to go back in, when Atta walked round the corner and stopped in her tracks at the sight of him. 

   "Sally informed me that you left your wallet at the shop. You might want to check that everything is accounted for, she does have a tendency to go through and take things that look interesting...photos of people's husbands, stamped coffee cards...even a lock of hair once." Ben grimaced and then despite himself, smiled. 

   "Atta," he said thoughtfully after a moment, "would you rather swim in sick or swim in spiders?"

    She looked at him and he thought she would reprimand him, but she just said, "spiders. I may not have much hair but I don't fancy clumps of carrot getting stuck in my perm. Costs a lot of money to look this good." She pushed past him, tapping his cheek affectionately as she did so. 

   Ben watched her walk away from him and shut the front door, resigning himself to the strange few hours he was about to have. 

   "I hope you don't mind," said their mum after Ben had made hot drinks and served biscuits on a plate, "but I made a cake. It's an upside down cake, I haven't made one for years! Do you remember how much you used to love them Ben?" She looked at him expectantly but he just nodded his head silently. 

    "I love a good upside down cake, is it pineapple or Apple?" said Atta, glaring at Ben. 

   "It's pineapple. Ben used to love all things pineapple - I used to make cheese and pineapple on sticks at their parties, you remember Giles? You would eat the cheese and Ben would eat the pineapple. I didn't bother putting them together in the end."

   "I remember," said Giles. "I only used to give the pineapple to Ben though because he threatened to tell you that I had broken the vase with the little girl on if I didn't. I quite liked pineapple actually." Giles looked at Ben and laughed but he got no response from his brother, who was staring at the opposite wall. 

   "YOU broke the vase with the little girl on?" she gasped. "I always thought Ben had done it, he looked as guilty as hell when I walked in and saw it smashed on the ground."

   "Actually I did smash it," said Ben, folding his arms and looking his mother straight in the eye. "Giles knocked it off the table by charging into it with a cushion tied around his waist but when I went to see if it had survived all that happened was a slight chip. So I told him from behind the sofa that it had cracked in two and couldn't be repaired. He was so worried he ran out of the room and didn't check. So I smashed it. Then you walked in."

   There was silence at this revelation...Giles had spent years retelling that story to his friends, and he looked at Ben frowning. 

   "Well you really would've done anything for pineapple it seems," his mother said, trying to make light of it. 

   "You little..." started Giles. 

   "It's ok love, I never really liked that vase anyway. My mum gave it to me as a wedding present but I think she was given it in the first place. No stress."

   There was an awkward silence in the room and everyone shuffled in their seats, trying to think of something to say. Suddenly three voices spoke at once. 

   "Lovely weather today," said Atta.

   "Can I have some cake?" asked Giles. 

   "Maybe I'd better be going," said their Mum, looking at Ben with something like desperation in her eyes. 

   "No mum, you're not going anywhere," said Giles. "He's the one being rude, he should go."

   "It's my flat!" Said Ben incredulously. "Let's not forget that until an hour ago I thought my mum was probably dead somewhere having been beaten up by her boyfriend, and I hadn't even heard of you Atta, yet here you both are sitting on my sofa and trying to make friends. I don't need new friends and I don't need a mother. I said I would try to forgive you but maybe I've got a few questions I need answering first."

   Atta and Giles looked at him thunderously and atta was about to reprimand him when his mother nodded. 

   "Of course. What do you want to know?"

   "Where do I begin? Hm, why did you leave us? Two young boys who had done nothing wrong, a father who had died and wasn't to be spoken of and a mother who absconded with a bully...the oldest cliche in the book."

   His mother paused for some time and Ben thought she was going to cry again. He was not an unkind person and this went against the grain seeing his mother upset like this but he needed answers and she was the only one who could give them. 

   Finally she spoke. 

   "When I met your dad I was young and impressionable. I had just come out of a relationship with a guy 10 years older than me. He was always jealous of anyone I spoke to and possessive didn't come close. I was only 17. So I managed to break away from him...I thought he would never give me up but some strong words from my father convinced him. I was feeling vulnerable but needed...I was never very good at being alone... so I went out every night looking for a good time, looking for someone to have a laugh with. One night this drunk bloke started flirting with me, being rude and obnoxious and something felt wrong about him. I tried walking away from him but he kept grabbing me and demanding I kiss him. He started hurting me so I pushed him and before I knew what had happened I had been punched in the gut and thrown to the floor. Anyway, your father was my knight in shining armour, he punched the bloke in the face then scooped me up and carried me out where he put me in a taxi and sent me home. As I was in his arms I looked at him closely and realised that I recognised him...he had been in my school, a few years above me. He had always been kind to me. We didn't say a word to each other but I turned around and looked at him as the taxi drove away and I knew then that he was the one. I tried finding out where he lived or worked but no-one remembered him. But then a few months later I saw him again at a party and we got chatting. That was it. We fell hard for each other, and married a year later. My dad wasn't happy at first and wanted us to wait but I was 18 then and didn't need anyone's blessing. My parents loved him in time though and thought marrying him was the best thing I had ever done. 

    "We were really happy the both of us...some people told us that the first year of marriage is the hardest. Well we never found that, we enjoyed every moment we had together. Ours wasn't a special story, nothing

momentous, but we didn't want that. We just wanted each other. Then I got pregnant and our lives were even more perfect, he was just so happy. 

    "He was great with kids, loved them, and when I told him he cried with happiness...that's where you get your love of crying from, Ben."

   "I told you," interrupted Atta smugly. 

   "I do not have a 'love of crying' ok?" Ben snapped indignantly.

   "Ok little brother, it's ok. Don't cry."

   Atta and Giles laughed together conspiratorially and Ben glared at them both, thoroughly unamused by the pair of them. 

   His mother looked away with a ghost of a smile on her face and continued, saving her son from any further embarrassment. 

   "I was happy too, of course, though I didn't feel ready. And I knew I would struggle sharing your father with anyone. Giles was due in the November but didn't want to come out...you stubbornly stayed in even when they tried inducing you," she turned to her oldest son and smiled warmly. "Eventually it was on an icy day in December you decided to make an appearance, I had to hold on to your father for dear life to get down the steps to the car. It was freezing and I just kept looking at the Christmas lights to get me through each contraction. When you were born I held you in my arms and cried, feeling like anything was possible. 

    "A few days later however and I realised that I knew nothing about babies...I was an only child...and I started getting panic attacks. They would cloud my judgment, they sent me spiralling out of control, to the point where one time I left you on your own in the house and ran to a neighbours all because I didn't know how to stop you crying. When your father got home I told him I couldn't cope any more and that I wanted it to be the two of us again. He helped calm me down but I don't think he realised the extent of my depression. Because I know now that's what it was, but they didn't really have a label for it back then. 

    "Months passed, I still struggled but I learnt to hide it better. Then I fell pregnant again and I knew that it would finish me. Don't get me wrong, I looked at you, Giles, and thought you were lovely...handsome, bright, sweet...but I couldn't handle you, always on the go, into everything. Before I continue, I just...I just want you to know something Ben. I have had a tough few years but nothing was as difficult as those few months were. Because I tried everything I could to lose you."

    Ben looked at her, horrified. When he asked for answers, he wasn't expecting this. She continued speaking as though she was reliving every moment however, had a faraway look in her eyes. 

    "I won't go into what I did, but needless to say none of it worked. It was mostly old wives tales anyway. But your father knew nothing of it, and when I got to 5 months and started showing, he would press his face to my tummy and talk to you. I would tolerate it and it actually made me feel closer to you, knowing that we had a bond of this man. But I knew that I wouldn't cope once you were born. 

   "You were due in the July but I believe that you heard the laughter from your older brother and the noises from the outside and decided that you had to come out early, so next thing I knew I was in labour a month early and crying because Jim was stuck in work and unable to get me in to the hospital. I left Giles with a neighbour and called a taxi. Your dad drove to the hospital and found me trying desperately not to push a few hours later. Atta was my midwife and I couldn't have done it without her, you were amazing Atta."

   The old lady grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 

   "As soon as jim  walked through the door I pushed an almighty push and you slid right out, even though you were a big baby...9lbs 10. Turns out they got the dates wrong and you were right on time. I didn't care at that point though, I was just happy you were out. And I looked at you and knew that I loved you...loved you both, but that my head was wired differently somehow, and that my love would never be easy, never be conventional. Your dad cried buckets, kept telling me he was so proud, and how much he loved our boys with every part of him. I think it was a little slip, but he didn't once tell me he loved me or that I was amazing for giving birth to our boys. And it sort of stuck with me, going round and round my head like a hornet in a nest...it turned me bitter, unhinged somehow. And the longer time went without him telling me, the bitterness grew, I took it out on you boys. On both of you but especially you Benjamin. You were young, little, but I couldn't look at you without thinking about him and how he maybe didn't love me any more. 

    "It was absurd, I can see now that he loved me and that he probably even told me but I wouldn't listen and when he did tell me I would shrug and think he was just saying it to make me happy. He started looking at me differently, with genuine concern. He would 'pop' home early to surprise me and see me upstairs in bed, the two of you on your own in the playpen downstairs. Or he would see me watching the TV and Giles would be spreading nappy cream or something all over the carpet. I can honestly say I remember very little of those first few years, other than it was dark and awful. 

    "He helped so much...did so much but it was no good. I was a useless mother, I just wanted things to be how they were before. And then he died. As you remember, I went to pieces, I threw away any memories of him, I fell deeper into my black hole and couldn't see the light, even on the sunniest and brightest of days. Life without him was too awful and I struggled before children to be alone so you can imagine exactly how tough it was when he wasn't there any more."

   "And that's when Atta started coming over. I bumped into her one day and she asked me how things were. I practically ignored her and she followed me home. Saw the state we were in so tried to help. I couldn't care less at the time, told her to do whatever she wanted. It was a miracle you didn't call social services."

   "Well I thought the boys would be separated if that happened. Plus your parents helped often, and I was around whenever you needed me." Atta patted her hand again and looked at Ben. 

    "And then Giles got sick and that was that. You buggered off and stayed away for good. I don't know how I am ever supposed to forgive you?"

   "I don't either Ben. But I...I've changed. I promise you I have. I just need some time to show you."

   Ben looked at her for a moment, suppressing the overwhelming feelings of sadness and darkness that were creeping over him. How different his life could have been if his father hadnt died. Or if his mother had been wired differently. He stood up abruptly and went to the kitchen, taking the cake with him. 

   "I'll cut this. I'll be back now."

   In the kitchen He took the cake out of the tin and grabbed a knife from the draw. Frantically he began cutting the cake, willing the tears to stay back, but he wasn't watching what he was doing and he nicked his hand with the knife. He threw the knife into the sink and grabbed the nearest tea towel, wrapping it around his hand and fighting the sobs. It was no use, he held the tea towel up to his face and tried smothering the cries into it, praying desperately that no-one would come to find him. He cried and cried, letting the bad stuff out, the hurt he had carried for so long. Was it possible for him to forgive? Could he ever love his mother? She came into the kitchen and threw her arms around him tightly. He was about to find out. 

 

Chapter 16

Now

Agatha

'Why are they looking at me like that?' she thought, beginning to worry she had smudged her mascara or developed a spot. 

   "Carry on," she said to Ben. 

   "No," he said back. "We have all night long to savour this letter. Tell us about the shoes."

   "Oh there's nothing to tell," she said, waving her hand dismissively. I just did what all of you would have done."

    "Not me," said Ruby, "I love jingly shoes."   

    "Nor me," said Charles. "But not because they jingle."

   "See. You're a good person."

   Ben studied her face for a few moments, enjoying the way a slow blush was warming up her cheeks. 

   "Mulled wine anyone? Coffee? Tea?"

   "Have you got hot chocolate?" asked Charles. 

   "Yes," she replied. 

   "Then stay there and I will go and make some. It's my speciality." Charles shot up off the floor and went to the kitchen. Ruby, sensing her presence might not be wanted scooted after Charles quickly. 

   "Coming Charles boy," she yelled, "it's my speciality too."

    

Charles

'The short one came in the kitchen with me,' thought Charles. 'Does this mean that she likes me and wants to kiss me? I don't think that would be nice.'

   "Hey Charles boy, so how do you make hot chocolate then?'

    Charles looked down at his feet and tried to remember what his mother had told him about social occasions. 'Make eye contact, be polite, be friendly.' Charles grinned the widest grin he could, looked into her eyes and fixed a stare on her. 

   He stayed in that position for some time, not knowing what to say. Ruby just looked right back, grimacing. 

   "Hello, Earth to Charles!" She waved her hands in front of his face, trying to snap him out of the weird trance. 

   "Sorry, I thought I was supposed to...anyway, I make really good hot chocolate. The secret is in the milk."

   He proceeded to tell her each and every step involved in making the perfect hot chocolate with immense detail. 

Ruby. 

'How shall I kill myself? Knife wound? No, too much blood. Drowning? No, I like breathing. Death by rats? Maybe.' Ruby took the sharp knife that had been drying by the sink and started cleaning the dirt from under her nails with it. She glanced up and saw Charles look at her with utter disdain. 'Good', she thought, 'it worked.' He continued making the drinks in silence then she helped him carry them in. 

Ben

Ben shifted in his seat and felt her leg against his. They were in close proximity and neither of them had moved, even after the other two had made their obvious departure. His hand was close to hers and he looked up at her to see if she had noticed. She looked back at him and their eyes locked for a moment, full of meaning and longing. He felt himself blushing, it had been a long time since a girl had looked at him like this, when he felt the same back. Feeling brave he inched his hand closer to hers and felt a jolt of electricity flow through him as he touched her skin. He hooked his little finger around hers and they sat in silence, just looking into each other's eyes and speaking reams.  

    The other two walked back in then with mugs of chocolate and their hands flew to their laps, both smiling over enthusiastically. Ruby raised her eyebrows questioningly but Charles didn't notice and simply thrust a mug at both of them. 

   "Here," he said, "try this. Best hot chocolate you'll ever taste."

    He appeared to want an immediate response so they both took a sip and although it burnt their tongues Ben had to admit it tasted good, even for something so sweet. 

    "It's good," said Agatha approvingly, "how did you get it so thick?"

    "You really don't want to ask that question," said Ruby, "not unless you want to forget Christmas altogether and just jump to the new year."

   Charles tutted and was about to reply when Ben cut in with "shall we finish the letter?" They all sat back down, this time with Ruby sitting on the beanbag in the corner, taking her time to get comfortable and making a hell of a noise in the process. Ben glanced at Agatha and they smiled shyly at each other, sharing a secret, but Charles got more cross, more agitated until finally he blurted out "get on with it for goodness sake." 

    Ruby looked at him lazily and stopped. But when he was about to speak again she shifted one more time. 

   "Shall I continue?" Ben asked finally. 

Agatha

   "No, just one minute," Agatha said, jumping up suddenly. She put on a cd of carols quietly in the background and lit a cinnamon scented candle. 

   She turned and saw three faces look confused. 

   "Sorry," she said, I'm just feeling really Christmassy all of a sudden."

   "That will be the effect of the hot chocolate," said Charles. 

   "Yeah yeah, just read the bloody letter," said Ruby bluntly. "Sorry," she added to Agatha. 

   "Right then, where were we?"

   Agatha sat down in the same spot and gazed at the full Christmas tree with its handmade decorations and white fairy lights, while Ben continued reading. 

   "Of course I had to wait another month until I could afford to buy her any more shoes but when I could we went for cheaper ones and avoided the poorer areas of town. But it was almost as though Agatha was looking out for the family, willing the girl to be there so she could give her something else...in fact I am almost certain that she wore her favourite blue beaded bracelet that day because she was planning on giving it to her if she saw her. On the bus ride home she almost looked disappointed at something, though she assured me that she liked her shoes. 

    Anyway enough about the shoes. She's perfect, this we know. However due to my unfortunate and untimely death, my only granddaughter is left completely and utterly alone."

   "That's not true," Agatha interrupted, "I've got plenty of friends and, um, neighbours around." The company looked at her with sympathy. "I have!" 

   "I was the only one to ever take an interest in her, although she was bright and well loved at school. The other Children adored  her and she was always so popular. But my Agatha needs people around her to take care of her. She needs love and affection and support. She needs a strong female friend who will tell her that she has amazing legs which need to be shown off and who will eat ice cream late at night with her. She needs an annoying brother figure in her life who will test her and try her but who will always be loyal to her. She needs a male friend who will take her out on his arm to a party from time to time to show her off, to take her for coffee or watch scary films so she can hide her face into his arm. These things she needs. I played the part for a while but I didn't do so well with the scary films because mostly I needed to hide my face into her arm. She was left to fend for herself. 

    What I am asking you all very kindly is to be there for her, to be the support network she needs, the love and encouragement she deserves and the fun she doesn't know she can have yet. In turn my lovely Agatha will look after you and be the most dependable, loyal, committed, trustworthy friend you could ever ask for. 

   I miss you all terribly; we did have some good times didn't we? Charlie, do you remember the cheese incident? I don't think I ever laughed so hard. Ruby, I know you are a tough nut on the outside but you have a tender side to you and you must must MUST go back to music because your rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow is by far the most exquisite I have ever heard. And Ben, it is time to let go of your brother. Live your own life now. I demand this of you because you are far too precious to throw it all away. And Agatha I have bestowed on you three very special people, they were mine but I give them to you. They are my legacy. You, my four lovelies, are my pride and joy. Be blessed, love, and enjoy. 

Agatha Monroe. 

Agatha wiped away her tears as Ben gave her the letter to keep. She folded it carefully and put it back in the envelope. 

Charles

'Her name was Agatha. Huh. Didn't know that. And what does she mean I've got to be a brother to her? I don't want to be a brother, and I certainly don't want a sister.' He drank the last of his hot chocolate and ran his finger round the inside of the mug to lick the dregs. 

Ruby

Ruby was determined that she wouldn't cry. Atta had meant so much to her in the last few years and it had been hard coming to terms with losing her. She had only been to see her once when she was in hospital, and it had been too much to bear, thinking that life could go on without her. But she wasn't going to cry, she didn't ever cry, not in front of anyone. 

Ben

Everyone suddenly seemed so down and forlorn. This was Christmas, the snow was falling, the carols playing. He loved Christmas, it was just the best time of the year. He was not going to let everyone be depressed. 

  "Would you rather," he started, and everyone groaned. 

  "Come on, it's a good one. Would you rather have 13 eyes anywhere on your body but at least four of them have to be on your head- they can look In any direction, or would you rather have one massive eye on your forehead that can see through things and a really long distance away?"

    He looked at them expectantly and waited for a response. 

   "Ok I'll go first, I would have one big eye because how on earth would you get that many pairs of sunglasses to cover 13 eyes! You'd be wandering round in the sun like.." He demonstrated walking around blinded by the sun but still no-one seemed impressed. 

    "Go on Aggs, you have a go."

Agatha took a deep breath. 

Agatha

Agatha flinched at the use of the nickname coming from his lips. She wasn't used to anyone else using that name, but...she didn't dislike the way it sounded. 

    "Well I suppose...I suppose one big eye would be alright."

   "Is that it? You have to say why," said Ben. 

    "Um, because...you'd have to buy less mascara I suppose. I don't know, I don't really play games."

   "Ok, that's not good enough. I have got some bloody brilliant games for us to play. But first," interjected Ruby, "I would have 13. Easily. You got one eye that can see through things, big deal. If you had 13 you could have them on your fingers, how cool would that look? Then the 4 on your face you could put different coloured lenses in, make a masterpiece out of your face. Way cooler."

   "But why would you want your face to be a masterpiece?" Said Charles, his usual look of confusion on his face. "It's already perfect."

    They all looked at him and Ruby actually glowed, despite trying to laugh it off. 

Charles 

'I don't understand games like this,' thought Charles, who genuinely had no idea what they were talking about. 'And why are they all looking at me like that? The little one looks like she's about to cry. What did I do now?" 

Ruby

'Stop blushing, stop blushing, just STOP!' Ruby willed herself, but it was no good. 'Just when you think you can contain the little girl inside she pops up at the first compliment that a man gives you.'

Ben

"Maybe you should paint her face," said Ben jokingly a few moments later, trying to lessen the awkwardness that had descended. 

   "Why would I do that? I only said it was perfect, I didn't say that I liked it," Charles shrugged, still unsure what the fuss was about. Ben wished he had kept his mouth shut but Ruby almost looked relieved. 

   "Good," she said, "because I think yours is perfect, but I don't like yours either."  She grinned and Charles gave a lopsided grin back, still obviously bewildered. 

    "You haven't said what you would rather Charles boy," said Ben. 

    "Oh, I don't know."

    "Come on, you have to play too. 13 small or 1 large?"

    "Oh I have ommetaphobia, so this is quite the worst question you could ask."

    "You have o-what?" 

    "Ommetaphobia. It's the fear of eyes." Charles shuddered and scratched his head. 

    "A fear of eyes? Could this night get any weirder?" asked Ruby. 

    "Ok well you ask one then," said Ben. "A would-you-rather question."

    "What's the point of it?"

    "Does there need to be a point?"

   "There always needs to be a point. Otherwise why bother?"

   "I think it's called 'fun' Charles," said Agatha with a twinkle in her eye. 

   "I don't really understand fun," he said, "though I suppose cooking a new recipe from Good Housekeeping is quite exciting. Once they had a pear and ginger Christmas pudding. It was the best day," he sighed. 

   Ben caught Agathas eye and they smiled again at each other. 'I'm developing quite a soft spot for you, girly,' he thought to himself. 

chapter 13 and 14

well howdy do folks. It's been a while but here are some more chapters for you. Poor Agatha has been through the mill but it's all good, it'll all come good in the end!

Chapter 13
A few months later and Agatha had moved in with her grandmother, leasing her flat out to an old school friend who needed to crash somewhere for a while after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend. Agatha took the spare bedroom in the Victorian terrace which was small but comfortable.
    Her Nan had made quite a recovery, proving the doctors right when they had said there was a small but definite chance. Even though she was bed ridden and needing carers, she was able to speak and use her right hand well enough that she could write and use her iPhone.
    Atta was made of strong stuff but her dependence on others was a problem. She was becoming a cantankerous old woman, calling her carers nasty names and snapping at them for things she would have laughed at 6 months previously. Even with her beloved granddaughter she had changed, but such was the love and patience that Agatha had that it washed over her and didn't effect her.
    At least she didn't think it effected her, but there were times when her nan was tucked up in bed and sleeping that Agatha found herself crying into her pillow, mourning the nan that she had lost only to be replaced with this nan, the snappy one, the dependent one, the one who relied on her night and day.
   Agatha had taken some time off when Atta had been released from hospital, taking the holidays that she had accrued. Victoria was less than happy that her most hard working and reliable employee was actually taking time off but there was nothing she could say to deter her. In fact Agatha had threatened her with resignation, stating that no one was more important to her than her nan, who needed her far more than any child ever would. It had the desired effect but now, months down the line, Agatha was having to juggle a full time job with a night time caring position, and she was exhausted.
    Agatha had seen much more of her father in the last few months than she had seen since she was a little girl. When she was small her mother and father had been married, but never happily. She remembered many rows, many nights that he came home late, or not at all, and many mornings when her mother would throw things at him - vases, mugs of coffee, the odd pair of scissors - in fury that he smelt of alcohol or cheap perfume. Agatha did not know whether he was having affairs in those early days of her life but from the age of 9 it was evident that he was. He rarely came home and occasionally had women turn up on the doorstep waiting for him. Her mother had simply given up, not seeming to care any longer if he stayed out all night with one of his lover  women, choosing instead to take antidepressants and watch daytime tv. Agatha had learnt to fend for herself in those early days - getting herself ready for school, cooking for herself, filling out forms, doing her homework. Nobody seemed to notice her, except for her Nan that was. But Agatha had never been one to tell tales or complain so she had not said anything to Atta, and whenever Atta came over to the house her daughter in law put on a very convincing show that everything was fine. Atta was never convinced however so often asked if Agatha could stay the weekend, or come out for tea most nights.
    “Is everything alright at home Aggie Wags?” she would ask when she picked her up from school for the fifth day in a row.
   Agatha would always smile her brightest smile and say “bicketty too” as her dad always said.
   Her father came home less and less until one day when Agatha was 13 he turned up on the doorstep with a younger woman on his arms and divorce papers in a plastic bag.
   “Hey Aggie,” he beamed at his only daughter.
   “Hi dad,” she replied cautiously.
   “Is mum in?”
   “Yes. She’s on the sofa, where she always is,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the living room.
   “I just came by to get some of my things, I’m leaving you see. This is Molly and…well she’s my good friend.”
   Agatha rarely saw red in a situation but this made her really angry, more angry than she had ever felt.
   “You abandoned me and mum, cheated on her countless times, left us without any money, and now you haven’t even got the decency to tell me the truth, that this is your latest girlfriend that you think you’re in love with. I’m not letting you in here, I’ll be selling all your stuff in a car boot sale  if you want to buy it back.”
   Molly sniggered.
   “Don’t you have to have a car to do a CAR boot sale?” She looked around the drive pointedly and sneered at Agatha.
   Agatha took a step towards the woman, causing her to stumble as she slipped off the doorstep. She regained her footing but now had her back up against the wall. Agatha carried on, knowing that what she was about to do went against her better judgment but knowing that she had to do something. She lunged at Molly, grabbing her peroxide blonde hair in her fist and yanking her to the gate where she threw her onto the pavement, shrieking “whore” as she did so.
   Her father was distressed at seeing the two loves of his life fighting that and went to the rescue, grabbing Aggie round the waist and pulling her away from the scrap that was ensuing.
   Agatha was furious, kept screaming at him, “let me go, give me a piece of her, you left us for HER?” He pulled her away, still with his arms strongly round her waist and took her inside the house, closing the front door behind him, keeping the two females separate but still able to hear the angry screams and torrent of abuse from outside the house.
    He held onto Agatha and wouldn’t let go, even after he felt the strength eke out of her body. She started sobbing uncontrollably into her hands and he hugged her as tightly as he could, unable to stop his own tears from falling. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
   Agatha’s mother came out of the living room and watched the whole scene, leaning against the door post with her arms folded. She watched as they hugged, as they cried, as they bonded, then simply turned and walked back to the television where she turned the volume up louder and lit a cigarette.
   “Come with me Aggie,” said her father, tilting her chin to force her to look into his eyes. “Stay with me, you shouldn’t be here.”
   Agatha looked at her father, every sensible instinct in her body telling her to run and avoid him but her broken and lost heart wanting desperately to feel the love that she had been deprived of from both of her parents.
   “I can’t live with her,” she cried.
   “I know, so come with me and Molly,” he beseeched her, a spark of light in his eyes.
   “No, I mean I can’t live with HER,” she repeated, pointing outside to the still screaming banshee.
   Her father faltered. “She’ll calm down love,” he said doubtfully. “She’s ok when you get to know her. Don’t stay here, your Mum’s not well. She can’t give you the love and attention a teenage girl needs.”
   “Oh and Molly-the-twat can I suppose?”
   “Agatha!”
   “What? I’ve been left on my own, just Nan making sure I don’t end up on drugs or end up a prostitute. She’s the only one who has cared for me since I was a young girl, so you don’t get to come in here and tell me off for swearing.”
   “Alright love, I’m sorry.”
   “What for, Dad? Why are you sorry?”
   “I’m sorry for - you know, telling you off. And for Molly.”
   “But not sorry for leaving me alone with a seriously depressed woman who just needed your love? You just left us Dad.”
   “Yeah, of course, I’m sorry about that too. Of course. But you have to know that she was impossible to live with. A man can’t deal with that much fuss, it can suffocate you Aggs.”
   “Yeah well as a result I’ve grown up without any love from either of my parents. Neither of you cared enough to be there for me, to raise me, to input into my life.”
   “I’m sorry -“
   “Just stop saying that. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done with both of you. I’m going to live with Nan.”
   “Ok Aggs, that’s a good idea. Your Nan will love the company, she would like that.”
   Agatha didn’t say another thing. It would have been pointless. She nodded and walked away from him, heading upstairs to ring her Nan, who had been begging her granddaughter to live with her for a long time. Out of a sense of duty to her parents she had stayed but she felt no duty to them any more - what duty had they ever shown to her? With the arrangements made, she packed her things and left, not even bothering to tell her mum that she was leaving.
   
   Since then Agatha had only seen her dad a handful of times...once when she got her GCSEs and passed with flying colours, once when she was out clubbing with a group of friends...he was dancing the night away with Molly, and once when he had gone to her Nans for sunday roast, her Nan trying to surprise her for her 16th birthday. Agatha hadn’t been very impressed with the surprise and told Atta that she had been hoping for a pony. She had said it drily and her Nan understood the joke but Molly, who had also been invited, couldn’t help but tut and mutter “how ungrateful” under her breath. It was not the greatest of birthdays.
   Agatha popped in once a week to visit her mum, buying a few groceries but mostly going to check she was still alive. It was a small price to pay, for the happiness that living at her nans brought. Late night games of bridge with the neighbours, watching Strictly Come Dancing with wine and cheese, not to mention the occasional visit to the pub with Agathas friends where they would stay until last orders, jeering at the men and flirting with the staff. They were good times for Agatha, times that she got to know her nan and understand her better.
    There were times however when her nan disappeared without a trace, stating that she was going to the shop for baking powder and then disappearing for hours on end. One time she told her granddaughter that she was going to water the plants in the front garden then disappeared for 2 whole days. Agatha did have her suspicions though, considering they had no plants because they were always left to die, and that she had a huge carpet bag with her when she walked out. But Agatha thought nothing of these things at the time, and when her nan got home eventually she would pretend to scold her then ask where she had been. Atta Monroe would never tell, only saying that she had been to see a man about a dog, or that the sun never shines on the unrighteous. (This one didn't make sense but Agatha didn't care.)
 
    This was why it was so hard for Agatha to see her nan this way. Always in bed grumpy, restless. Agatha came home one day, a few months later, and saw that the carers had been earlier today, leaving her nan unattended for 2 hours. Agatha was angry when she read the notes and sprinted up the stairs two at a time to check she hadn't done something stupid like try to get out of bed.
   Agatha stopped, however, when she reached the bedroom. She could hear sniffing, whimpering, crying from her strong nan.
   She walked in and gently took her arm.
   "Nan? Hey Nan, it's me. What's the matter?"
   Atta tried to wipe her face and stop crying but at the sight of Agathas concerned face she cried louder, harder.
   "I'm just so..so sorry," she wailed, big tears rolling down her face and splashing on the fresh sheets.
   "Why nan, what's happened?"
   Atta cried for a few more minutes then Agatha saw her strength return and she steeled herself again, preparing to downplay the tears.
    "Oh it's nothing, really. I'm just being a silly old woman."
   "Nan, why are you sorry?"
   "I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself that's all. I'm sorry for putting you out, making you care for me, I'm sorry that you're not out there meeting new people and finding love and settling down with kids of your own."
   "Oh nan, there's nowhere I would rather be, you know that. I don't want all those things yet, I've got plenty of time. Come on, don't cry."
   "There are....things. Things you don't know. About me."
   "That's ok, you don't need to tell me anything. I love you as you are. Now who did you murder?"
   Atta looked at her with wide eyes for some time until she said "Mr Watkins. 1977. With the cattle prod."
   Agatha gasped, hand flying to her mouth, before realising that her nan had a twinkle in her eyes and was trying not to laugh.
   "Oh nan, that got me. Phew," she said, fanning herself with her hand. They giggled for a moment and Agatha felt a jolt of happiness rush through her - surely this was the start of her nans recovery? The depression would lift, they could start talking about physiotherapy, a stair lift to get her down the stairs, wheelchairs to get her out...anything was possible. Agatha took her hand.
    "Now I know you didn't murder anyone I can relax."
    "I haven't always been a good grandmother to you Agatha," Atta started, raising her good hand to stop her from arguing.
    "I haven't. There are things you don't know. Things you probably...should know."
   "Nan, I don't -"
   "Let me talk. I haven't talked like this in a while and I need to get some things off my chest. I don't have a great relationship with your dad, as you probably know. Your grandfather, Tom, he was a good man. I need you to know that...he loved me, and I loved him. We had been in school together and he was the most handsome boy, the one all the girls wanted. So when he asked me out on a date, no-one was more surprised than me…of course I said yes and we got on really well. He was wonderful and he would have done anything for me. We enjoyed many years of blissful marriage, taking holidays to Brighton, spending christmas in front of a tiny tree, long walks through the country. So when I fell pregnant with our first child I was excited, I thought this would complete us. Plus, when you're happy and in love, the next step is always to have children, if you are blessed with the ability.
    "Well I was and when I found out I told Tom, making a big song and a dance about it, dragging out the moment when I revealed this marvellous information to him. He thought I had bought him a motorbike, poor chap. So when I eventually told him that he would be a father he shut down, and wouldn't speak to me for a month. Not because he was disappointed there would be no bike, you understand. He was withdrawn and sullen, barely coming home to me, choosing to work all hours under the sun instead.
    "One day he came home drunk and tried to force himself on me. My Tom had never laid a finger on me before and I knew it wasn't in his nature, but something had changed. I didn't know what it was, I couldn't understand why he would react so badly to such good news.
   "I managed to push him away from me and scramble to safety but he was quicker and stronger and he grabbed my ankle, forcing me to the ground. Well I was so scared that something would happen to the baby that I let him carry on his business and the next day nothing was said. In fact he woke up happier and actually kissed me goodbye after breakfast. I was scared of him after that but he never tried anything like it again.
    "Your dad was born one dark and gloomy day in January and it was the best day in my life when I held him in my arms. He held my finger in his fist and I cried non stop. Tom came in an hour later and looked at him briefly before walking out the door. He didn't hold him, wouldn't ask how I was, wouldn't acknowledge him in any way, even when I named him Thomas in honour of his daddy.
   "Well I got myself home in a taxi and carried on with life at home. Tom came back from time to time but I think he found life better on his own. He was living in a caravan that his mate rented to him and he was happy. He sent money back to us every month but it was never enough...not now I had to pay the bills as well as provide for a little one. So I decided if I had to get a job that I would get a good one...a nurse was what I decided on.
    "Well I started training a few months later and the next door neighbour looked after your dad. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, leave him with another woman, even someone who had had 5 of her own, but I had to steel myself to the task and get on with it.
    "I enjoyed the training, met some great people - other girls, lots of nice doctors on the ward, interesting  patients. I worked hard at it and found I really enjoyed myself. I missed the baby but he was happy and settled next door so all was good. So I thought. Because one day Tom came home as I was in work and changed all the locks, throwing a few bags of my clothes out onto the street, but choosing to throw the baby's things away...I found them stuffed into the bin when I got home.
   "It turns out that a friend of ours had bumped into him and let it slip that I was getting on well in the hospital. She mentioned that I had been seen on the arm of a nice young doctor at a party and that it was a shame we couldn't have worked things out. Of course I would've loved a chance to work things out but he wouldn't speak to me. My friend wasn't meddling, she genuinely thought she was helping. But he saw red, thinking that I was getting on with my life without him, thinking I was taking him for every penny he had, thinking I was playing him. The ironic thing was that the young doctor and I had been good friends...but I wasn't keen on him in any way. When I married Tom it was for life and I never looked at a man in the same way as I looked at him.
   "In truth I could barely make ends meet. Your dad was growing fast, I would buy him shoes and the next month he had outgrown them. I would feed him good food but he was always hungry for more. Then my neighbour decided to increase the fees I was paying her, saying it wasn't worth her while minding a kid who was so energetic. This was the last straw, I wasn’t going to fight Tom for the house, he was welcome to it. So I found that we were living on the street, cast out of the only home we knew. I had a friend with a spare room, she let us live with her for a while but it would never be a long term arrangement, not when I had a toddler running about breaking things and running in her room first thing in the morning after she had been working a night shift.
    "I took extra hours at the hospital, I worked at night in the local shop stacking shelves and I found a place we could rent...it was so cheap because the walls had damp and there was only one bedroom. But the lad and I were happy, we had a place of our own.
    "I was tired but before long he was in full time education and things settled down again. I didn't see Tom for a long time, I stayed away from our old house not wanting to confront him about why he had turned the way he had. But one day I was working in the hospital and a patient was wheeled onto the ward. I knew him at once from the way he groaned, the way he shouted for a nurse to help. I found myself backing away from the ward, wanting to run and hide, but the matron was behind me and hated shirkers. She raised her eyebrows at me and folded her arms. She also hated personal problems, they were to be kept outside, so I had to take a deep breath and attend to my estranged husband.
   “Now then Mr Monroe,” I said in my most clipped voice, “what seems to be the problem?”
   “I picked up his notes, trying to avoid looking at him and read that he had suspected appendicitus and was due to have surgery the next day.
   “I put the notes down and finally looked at him. He was pale, he had lost weight, he was looking old, a few grey hairs shading the side of his head. I immediately felt a sadness like I had never felt before - this man was a shadow of the man I had married. Not for the first time I wondered what had gone wrong? What had I done wrong?
   “Emotion must have showed on my face because even in his pain he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
   ““I was hoping it would be you,” he said, beads of sweat gathering on his brow.
   ““You - you were?” I asked tentatively.
   ““I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, writhing with the pain. “I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it all back I would.”
   ““But Tom,” I said quietly for the matron was glancing over suspiciously, “what happened to us? It all went so horribly wrong, when I told you I was pregnant.”
   ““I…I never wanted…” He was struggling with the pain and I turned to go and get him some pain relief.
    “”No,” he gasped, “not yet. Just stay, I don’t want you to go. I need you to know…”
   ““Well the sister will be over in a minute asking why I am not dealing with the other patients.” Despite my sadness I couldn’t help but remember the endless nights of worrying about finances, where they would live, if young Thomas would turn out alright without a father. It was hard to let all of this go.
   ““I never wanted children,” he whispered.
   ““But you never told me that,” I said.
   “”I tried but whenever you looked at babies in their prams, or children at the park you couldn’t take your eyes off them. I knew that if I told you I didn’t want children that it would break your heart. I just thought that if I kept quiet that maybe it would never happen, and maybe you would forget.
   ““I even tried to learn when it was your time - you know, your…” he stumbled on the words, not wanting to embarrass himself.
   ““Monthly?”
   “”Yes. I knew that there were certain times of the month that I should stay away from you because you would be more likely to become pregnant. It obviously didn’t work.”
   ““But why did you react like that when I told you?”
   ““I thought I had been careful and when you told me I assumed you had been with another man. My behaviour towards you was unforgivable and…I’m sorry.”
   ““I never loved anyone like I loved you Tom Monroe. You stupid man. What made you realise that I hadn’t been with anyone else?”
   “”The day I saw him in your arms at the hospital. I knew he was mine, just as I knew you were mine the first day I saw you at school. We belonged together.”
   “”But you barely glanced at him,” I said, baffled.
   “”I watched you both from the window outside the ward. You were so besotted that you didn’t look up once at me and I knew then that I would have to share your love from now on. I didn’t want it, couldn’t face it. I looked at him for a very long time, willing myself to hate him, but I couldn’t. I just saw a helpless baby who had done nothing wrong. But I knew then that I couldn’t go back to the way things were. I came in to say goodbye to you but words were too hard, I couldn’t speak for fear that I would give myself away. So I glanced at him and left.”
   “I looked at him for the longest time,” Atta said to Agatha, a faraway look in her eyes, “but what was I to do? We had moved on, he had chosen to desert us, abandon us and all because he didn’t get his own way. All because he wanted me to himself.”
   “So what happened next,” asked Agatha, with tears in her eyes.
   “I nodded to let him know that in my own way I understood, and that I forgave him. Then I went to get him some pain medication. By the time I got back to him he had been wheeled away into the operating theatre where he died from a ruptured appendix. I never saw him alive again.”
   “Oh Nan,” Agatha said, tears flowing freely now, “I’m so so sorry, that’s awful,” she said.
    “I thought that maybe we would inherit the house after that, maybe we could start living comfortably again but it turned out that he wrote me out of his will, leaving everything to a brother he rarely saw. I wasn’t angry, not really. We had made our peace with each other, like I said he wasn’t a bad man. Just …complicated I suppose you young folks would say.”
    “How old was dad when he died?”
    “Your father was 6. He didn’t really understand why his father was never around, he had no memories of him. When he saw me crying the next day and I told him why, he just shrugged at me and told me he had thought he was already dead. We never talked about him after that though I would have liked to, to keep his memory alive.
    “Then I retrained as a midwife. I couldn’t stand the environment on the ward after that, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I loved babies, Tom was right about that. So in no time at all I was bringing babies into the world and it suited me right down to the ground.”
   “I just keep thinking that if I had just persevered with Tom, if I’d tried to reconcile our marriage instead of giving up so soon, maybe your father would have turned out better - maybe he would have been a better father.”
    “Wait,” Agatha said suddenly, “you’re not blaming yourself for my dad are you? You’re not apologising for him Nan, you are not to blame, we all make our own choices. You did a great job especially given the circumstances.” Agatha couldn’t believe this strong, beautiful woman, who had been through so much in her life could actually think like this about herself. It was so out of character.
    “Nan,” Agatha said, wiping her tears and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m going to make a nice cup of sweet tea for us both, then I’ll come back up and we can have a good chin wag, Ok?”
   Atta laughed, a sweet cup of tea was always what she prescribed but never something she actually liked the taste of. She would drink it today though to appease her sweet, adorable, wonderful granddaughter.
   Agatha ran down the stairs, feeling better even though the story she had just been told was awful. She didn’t know it was possible to feel closer to her Nan but now she did and it felt good.
    She made the tea and put a packet of jaffa cakes on the tray. For the rest of the evening they talked and talked, only stopping when Atta had fallen asleep mid sentence. Agatha smiled to herself and tucked her Nan in, kissing her on the forehead before turning out the light and taking the tea things back downstairs.
    In the night Atta had another stroke and this time it was fatal.

Chapter 14
Agatha
Agatha looked out of the window and saw with surprise that the snow was falling thick and fast and that a layer of white was covering everything outside of her house. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder at the beauty of it all, the way the snow fell was mesmerising and she sat and watched it for a few minutes longer than she should.
   Finally she left the comfort of the spare room and went back to join her guests. They were all on their phones texting, browsing - who cares? But not one of them was talking.

Charles
‘So I’m trying to update my status on facebook but it looks like there’s no coverage here. I wonder what the wifi password is? She probably wouldn’t tell me if I asked.’ Charles had completely embraced the Iphone, as he had since learnt to call it, discovering how to text, make phone calls and even downloaded facebook though he only had 5 friends (his mother, George, Fran, Joan the National Trust manager and an unknown person from Nigeria called Nigel. He seemed friendly enough and liked to discuss cricket.) Charles put the phone down, however when his host walked back in - his high class manners prevented him from social networking whilst at a dinner party, even if this in no way actually resembled a dinner party.

Ruby
Ruby looked through the photos on her phone as she often did when she was feeling low. There was one picture of Paul she had allowed herself to keep…it was a good one of him, where he was laughing at something she had said before she clicked the button on her phone. It was great lighting and his face seemed to glow.   She loved that picture. She had one of her father too, whom she had visited on many an occasion. She wasn’t allowed to take pictures of him but had a few on her phone that she had taken the night he got arrested. Then there was one more photo of value to her and that was the selfie that she had taken with Atta a few months after they had met. They were both cross eyed in the shot, giggling their heads off just before because it had taken them so long to get the picture in focus. She missed Atta most of all.

Ben
‘What r u doing now?’ he typed.
‘Eating curry and playing Gran turismo with mum,’ came the reply from Giles after a few moments.
‘Man you are one lucky mo fo’ he typed, pressing send just as the hostess walked back in the room. He looked up and her and did a double take,she had been crying and was carrying something in her hands. He felt guilty and put his phone back in his pocket, jumping up to see if everything was ok. He might wish he was elsewhere but he hated seeing a pretty girl in distress.

Agatha
‘I must look a state,’ Agatha thought as she walked back into the room. Ben jumped up as soon as he took one look at her, Ruby stared at her face and looked guilty and even charles had the decency to put his phone away and clear his throat when she sat back down.
   “So here it is,” she announced, sitting back at the head of the table and placing the letter before her. “The letter my grandmother insisted we read together.”

Charles
‘Finally’ he thought, trying to hide the relief he felt by yawning instead.

Ruby
‘Finally’ she thought, looking down at the table and sighing. She glanced up when it had gone quiet and realised that she had spoken again. ‘Wow,’ she thought, ‘I never knew I did that so much.’

Ben  
Ben sat back down in his seat, unsure whether or not he should hold her hand or stroke her soft olive coloured skin in sympathy. Obviously she was not going to get any from these two insensitive idiots.

Agatha
Agatha looked at her guests and grimaced. She willed herself to stay quiet and play the dutiful host her grandmother had begged her to be but at the sight of Charles yawning yet again she felt  she could contain herself no more.
   “Are we boring you that much, Charles?” she snapped.
   There were three pairs of surprised eyes that were looking in her direction but she couldn’t hold back any longer.
   “Um… a bit I suppose,” he answered.
   Ruby sniggered.
   “I suppose you’re still bored too, miss I’m-Too-Cool-For-This-Dinner-Party, you miserable cow.”
   ‘Uh-oh, I’m getting out of hand.’ thought Agatha. But she was on a roll now, she couldn’t stop herself if she tried.
   “Agatha,” started Ben quietly, raising a hand in a calming down manner, “why don’t you just -“
   “Oh shut up Ben,” she snapped at him, “don’t think I haven’t seen you looking at me doe eyed ever since you saw me in my knickers. I don’t know what my Nan saw in all of you but personally I’m glad I never have to set eyes on you ever again after this letter has been read out. It’s bad enough that I have to read this in front of you all, I would much rather read it to myself and be able to have a good cry without you lot judging me and laughing at me.”
   “Well why don’t you then?” asked Charles. He seemed genuinely confused.
   Agatha looked at him and wondered how much on the autistic scale he was.
   “Because my Nan wrote me a separate letter and made me promise that I would meet you somehow, that the four of us would get together for one night only and just meet. You were all people she loved and treasured and she wanted me to know you like she did. Well I’ve kept that promise but it was never required of me that I love you all too. I’m not sure what she saw in you all personally.”
   They all sat quietly until Agatha sighed.
   “I’m sorry. I-“
   “Just read the letter, ok?” interrupted Ruby.
    Agatha nodded and opened the envelope. She pulled the letter out slowly and unfolded the paper. She took a deep breath and started to read.  
    “My dear Agatha and my dear friends,
    I am truly very sorry that I died. It was not my intention as I had planned on living forever - or at least until I delivered my first great-grandchild. (If that ever happens, isn’t that right, Aggie Wags?) Lol, only joking.”

Agatha laughed, there was no way that she would’ve let Atta Monroe, midwife extraordinaire, anywhere near her lady bits. Plus she was very forgetful, who knew where she might end up leaving her glasses.

   “I certainly feel as though I have been taken from you all far too soon. First I suppose I must address the issue of how I knew I would die. Well it happens to us all eventually of course, and having had quite a doozy of a stroke a few months ago I knew that my days were numbered. No-one of my age recovers well from a stroke of that magnitude. Plus when you get to a certain age you know…you know that it may be just around the corner. You feel it at night, creeping in the shadows, lurking by your side as you go to the toilet for the tenth time. Anyway, I’m dead.
   My dear Charles. First of all there are things that you have to know. I’m guessing that you know most of these things by now, your mother must have told you. Yes, you have a sister; well a half sister at least. Your father was not who you thought he was, and he knew that you weren’t his. This must have been hard for you to learn, and I’m sorry that you did not grow up with a father figure - I have first hand experience of how tough this can be on a boy.
   My lovely, sweet Ruby.”

At this all of the gathering looked bemused at Ruby - not least Ruby herself, who shrugged at the others.

   My lovely, sweet Ruby. You have endured many hardships through the last few years and for this I am sorry. Dealing with the death of your boyfriend and the imprisonment of your father for murdering him has been tough on you but you have coped well and you are stronger than you think. I beg you Ruby, please please restart that music career of yours - you were, no are amazing and a great future lies ahead of you if you can just move on. I love you sweet girl and I’m leaving you with a precious gift indeed.
   Now Ben ben, my strapping lad, I have some bad news and some good news. First of all your brother is dying.”
 
Agatha faltered at this and looked at Ben tenderly. He caught her eye and they had a moment between them until Charles coughed impatiently.

   “I know that you know this, I know that you have been told that his death may be closer than you had thought, but do not fear it my boy, he is in pain, he is fed up, and he is desperate for you to find some sort of a life. Do not fear his death, for here is where the good news comes in…I will be waiting for him, and wherever we may end up (and trust me there is an afterlife, of this I am certain), I will dance with him and run with him and attempt cartwheels in a long grassed meadow with him. And here we will talk of the person you have become - your insecurities, your fears, your complete dread of being alone and having to fend for yourself. My boy, be strong.
   So why have I called you together? My granddaughter, in one word.”

Here Agatha stopped, a lump forming in her throat, unable to carry on. It was at this time that Charles shouted, “bloody hell, look at the snow!” and the letter became temporarily forgotten in Agatha’s hands.

Charles
Charles hadn’t meant to be insensitive - it was one of those moments that he let his worries get the better of him and he had been trying for so long to learn how to stay under control. But it had come as a shock, the snow was falling so heavily that it had become impossible to see any cars outside. He rushed to the window and stared out glumly.
   “There’s no way I’m getting back home tonight - not in this. My mum will be so worried, I’d better ring her.” He took his phone out of his pocket and went into the other room to ring her.
   “Hi Mum,” he said when she finally picked up. He was in the spare room so started rummaging through the shoe drawer to make sure his precious wine was safe.
   “Charles, where are you? Are you on your way back?”
   “No mummy, we were reading the letter from Atta - sorry, aunty Atta - and we got distracted.” Charles started panicking, he couldn’t find the wine and he knew exactly where he had hidden it. Damn, she must have come in and found it.
   “But Charles, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, you must be home for our traditions. I can’t do them without you.”
   “Mummy stop worrying, I’ll do what I can.” He started looking around the room, trying to see where someone like Agatha would hide a bottle of wine.
   He talked for her for a few more minutes and it was soon clear that firstly he was going to have to stay the night with these…these people, and secondly that he would never find the wine in a room with so many drawers and hiding places. He sat down on a bench seat by the window and sighed.

Ruby
‘Looks like I’m the only person who has no-one to call,’ she thought drily. ‘That’s me, a loner. I suppose I could call Old man Taylor, just so it looks like I’ve got someone who loves me but then he’d probably think I was hoping for a snog, and that most definitely is not on the cards.’ Ruby went to the window and looked out, wrapping her arms around her for warmth even though the house was quite cosy. It was to comfort herself more than anything else. She thought about the things that Atta had said about her. She had always had the ability to see things that nobody else could see. And could she ever go back to music? Ruby doubted it somehow but she admitted that the thought of standing on stage singing to crowds of people still got her excited, and maybe it was something to consider once this long night was over. Looks like they would have to endure each other for a few more hours.

Ben
“Hey bud,” Ben called jovially, “it looks like I’m not coming home tonight after all, I scored a hot date with this chick who I’ve already seen in her undies.” He tried staying as light as he could but the words in Attas letter were still ringing in his ears and the last place he wanted to be right now was in this house far away from his brother. In fairness he could probably walk it but he had arrived in the wrong clothes and didn’t know if he would survive the distance.
   “It’s alright chap,” Giles said, “don’t fret. Tell me, does she have a sister who happens to like men who have very little function left in their body?”
   Ben bit his lip to compose himself and said “sorry mate, only child. Listen, you sure you’re ok? I’m gutted mate, I wanted to be back so we can watch The Snowman on repeat all day and drink mulled cider until we can’t see straight. But as soon as I wake I’ll try and get a taxi or something, ok?”
   “It’s fine Ben, mum is doing a great job of looking after me. we’ll still be here when you get back ok? G’night.”
   “Night bud,” he said, hearing the click of the phone cutting off on the other end. He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together.

Agatha
Of all the nights that her strange guests had to be snowed in it was this one. Her night had been a terrible one from the moment that Charles walked in through the door, refusing to give her the bottle of wine, until the moment that she had started reading the letter, choking on the words that her Nan had written just days before she died. Agatha had a feeling that her Nan had simply given up and decided that she was going to die. It would be just like her.
   The wine! She remembered where she had hidden it and knew that Charles would be checking up on it. She ran into the spare room and looked as he smugly sat smiling on the bench seat.
   “All ok?” she asked breezily.
   “Oh just fine,” he replied, with his best attempt at a wink. It looked more like a squint and Agatha snorted a laugh at the absurdity of it all.
   When they had all finished their phone calls they gathered once again in the dining room.
   “So I suppose you two can take the spare room and Ruby, you and I can sleep in my bed.”
   “No offense Agatha but I can’t sleep in your bed with you. I’ll take the sofa.”
   “No, I need the sofa because I have sleep apnoea and I don’t want to keep anyone awake,” said Charles with the first act of selflessness the company had seen so far.
   “That’s kind of you Charles but I am a heavy sleeper, let Ruby have the couch.”
   “No,” said Charles, “I have sleep apnoea and it’s very bad. Plus I can’t sleep in the same room as you Ben, you might try something with me in my sleep and I don’t want that.”
   They all looked at him baffled until Ruby said “He’s not gay, you know that, right?”
   “He’s not?” said Charles, confused.
   “No, I’m not.”
   “Oh.Ok. But i still don’t want to sleep in the same room as you,” he said shrugging his shoulders.
   Agatha rolled her eyes. How on earth had her Nan had any tolerance for these people?
   “Ok well sleep where you want. I have spare pillows and blankets, and I can lend you some pyjamas Ruby. If you want some, of course.”
   The house became a hive of activity for a few minutes as people helped Agatha tidy the kitchen. Charles made some teas and coffees and Agatha found the box of chocolate biscuits she had been saving for christmas day. No point in keeping them for just herself and plus her guests were probably still hungry.
   “Shall we finish the letter?” she asked after some time.
   They all nodded their assent and they sat in the living room, three of them in close proximity on the sofa and Charles on the floor.
 “So why have I called you together? My granddaughter, in one word. She is the light of my life and always has been. The day she was born she won my heart like no-one else had been able to do. She is so pure, so good, and I adore her. By this point of the evening I expect you have tried her food. For this I am sorry…”

   “Huh,” Agatha started, “what a cheek.” But she had no sympathy from the others who were giggling and nudging each other in a rare show of companionship.
   “Oh come on Aggs, it was pretty bad,” Ben said poking her in the ribs.
   “How long did you spend cooking again?” laughed Ruby, showing a beautiful smile that she had not yet revealed.
   “Yeah, it was shit,” said Charles, expecting everyone to laugh more. But they just stopped abruptly and shook their heads.
    Agatha smiled as she cast her eyes back down to the letter.
 
    “I have tried to impart my skills down to my granddaughter but I’m afraid that I am not much better - I make a mean bowl of Heinz tomato soup and a very tasty christmas pudding, but I doubt somehow that she has tried to make this tasty combination for you tonight.”

They all looked at her expectantly and Agatha said coyly, “Well I did buy a few tins of tomato soup just in case. Looks like we might need them after all.” They laughed some more and Agatha found herself enjoying the night for the first time.

   “I can assure you however that this is the only area in which she is found to be lacking.”

At this Agatha found she couldn’t read on, she couldn’t believe these things about herself so she couldn’t expect a group of strangers to believe them.
   “I’ll just skip some of -“
   “No you won’t,” said Ben taking the letter out of her hands.

   “To give you an idea of how kind and pure she is I shall tell you a story of something she did when she was five. I took her into town to buy her some new shoes because her parents had forgotten and her toes were poking through the end. We went into the shop and spent some time looking at the various styles and choosing which colour we liked the best. Agatha couldn’t believe how lovely they were and kept touching each pair she tried on as though they were the magical glass slippers in Cinderella. Finally we agreed on a pair of red leather shoes with a buckle which made a small jingling sound as she walked. She loved them and didn’t want to wear them on the way home in case she ruined them. We carried them in the box and walked back to the bus stop. But on the way to the bus we came across a family who clearly had nothing. There was a mum, a dad and a little girl, perhaps slightly smaller than Agatha. Their clothes were threadbare and the little girl had smudges of soot on her face. Agatha looked at her feet and saw that her shoes were even worse than her own. She looked at me pleadingly and I knew that her intentions were the kindest and purest I had ever seen. I nodded at her and she shyly took the bag with the new red shoes in which jingled as she walked and handed it to the girl. She simply said “you can have these. I don’t need them,” and she gave her a hug. She took my hand and walked away, not glancing back or regretting for one moment that she had given them away. I have never been so proud in my whole life as I was in that moment.”

Ben finished reading the page and stopped. The room had an eerie hush about it, each thinking of the sacrifice that Agatha had made that day.
   “Who wants shoes that jingle anyway, right?” said Agatha after while, trying to lighten the mood back to what it had been just a few moments earlier.
   They all laughed again but everyone was beginning to look at each other differently. Something was shifting amongst them and it was good.

Chapter 10 (second part) to chapter 12.

 (Chapter 10 continued)

(If you recall Charles has been into the village and has bumped into Atta. They are chatting.)

 "So my mother has been keeping a secret from me and it concerns you."

   "She's been keeping many things a secret and I'm only a small part of it."

   "And you're not going to tell me? Or are you?"

   "No, no I think I won't. I'm visiting my son who is living nearby, I often come and stay for weeks on end. I'll be happy to talk to you once she tells you but if not...then maybe we can meet for cake another time. Here is my number," she said, scribbling down a number on a napkin "I have the new iPhone 6 with 64 giggles."

    "What's an iPhone?" said Charles, confused. Atta frowned at him, looking utterly baffled. 

     "Shall we meet tomorrow? Say 10am?"

    "What makes you think she'll tell me by tomorrow?"

    "Just mention the name Rufus Monroe to her and see what she says. Now drink up, you'll want to be getting back to those jumpers I expect."

    He drank his cappuccino in silence, keeping his eyes low. 'Rufus Monroe' he thought, puzzled. He finished the dregs of his coffee then looked at the old woman. 

    "Can I ask you one question?"

    "You can ask," she said shrugging her shoulders. 

    "What is your name?"

    "Ah. Great question. Thought you'd never ask. My name is Atta."

    Charles looked at her and furrowed his brow. 

   "Wondering where you've heard my name before?" she asked. 

   "No. Wondering what kind of a name Atta is. Totally bonkers if you ask me. See you tomorrow," he said as he pushed back his chair and went to pay George. 

"Mother," he called as soon as he walked through the front door. There was no answer. "Mother?" he called again, determined to find her and have it out with her. "Where are you?"

   Charles looked in the few rooms downstairs and saw no sign of her. He ran up the steps two at a time, even though it nearly caused his lungs to explode, and found her lying on his bed sleeping. She was clutching an old teddy of his, one he used to take everywhere with him until the age of 12. Charles frowned, it was unlike his mother to sleep in the middle of the day. He was about to walk out of the room to start on the remaining orders when he noticed something else in her hand. It was a photo of a man, a handsome man with a ruddy complexion and a warm smiling face. Whoever the man was it most definitely was not the man he had once called father. He went to leave again but this time haltered because of the sight of an empty bottle of pills on his bed side table. 

    

Two hours later and they were in the hospital, Suzannah having had her stomach pumped and Charles having had the fright of his life. They had caused quite a stir amongst the national trust guests when the ambulance arrived, and when his mother got carried away on a stretcher. At the time he had been too concerned to care but now his cheeks flushed with the humiliation. 

    His mother was sleeping now, the doctors informed him that it would take some time for the pills to flush out completely in her system. He stayed by her side and held her hand, willing her to wake up, willing her to be ok. If anything ever happened to his mother...she was all he had, he should never have shouted at her or stormed out like that. He cried and a giant tear fell and landed on the bed. 

    The kindly nurse who had taken charge once they were taken to the ward saw Charles upset and waddled over to comfort him. She was 8 months pregnant and felt every step. She rubbed his back however and bent over as far as her stomach would allow. 

   "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked in her Lancashire accent. "Is there someone I can call?"

    Charles knew, later on when he recalled the whole scenario, that he wasn't thinking straight, and that if he was to ask anyone to come in that it would be someone like Jane, the national trust coordinator that they spoke to regularly, or Mr Timms the closest neighbour that they had who occasionally made them jam from the plums he grew in his garden.  But never in a million years should he have called the number on the napkin in his pocket. 

    "Yes, could you call this number please? She has an iPhone 6 with 64 giggles and her name is Atta." 

Chap 11

Agatha

The small company sat down at the table and looked at the food in front of them. Agatha had finished serving the final bits of food - the veg, gravy, though only after spending 20 minutes bleaching the kitchen after the mouse debacle. She looked around at the food she had so lovingly prepared and felt quite dismayed. It looked awful...the Turkey was greasy looking, the potatoes had gone soft, the cranberry sauce had a weird shine over the top. The marks and spencer stuffing balls she had tried to pretend were hers were looking quite well however. She let out a deflated sigh and looked at her guests. 

   "You know what," she said, "forget it. It all looks gross, I wouldn't feed it to a dog. Just go home, it's not worth it."

   "No, it doesn't look that bad," said Ben, reaching across the table to touch her hand. 

   "You're very kind but it really does. It's started snowing outside and there's every possibility that it won't stop. You don't want to be stranded here with me in this tiny flat. That would be an unmitigated failure."

    "It was an unmitigated failure when you brought out those starters...what were they?" This from Ruby, ever the tactful one. 

    "They were a recipe I made up...it should've worked. But thanks for your honesty," Agatha said, without a trace of sarcasm or anger. 

    "Maybe we should go," said Charles, "I mean I need to get back to mother and if I'm snowed in on Christmas Eve she will never talk to me again."

    "We're not leaving," said Ben "we are having a quick bite to eat and then we'll finish what we came here to do. It never snows that bad in England and it's not going to start tonight of all nights."

   Agatha looked at him gratefully for his support but really wished they would all go so she could put her pjs on and cry into the nice bottle of wine that Charles had hidden around the flat somewhere. He must have thought she hadn't noticed but she would make sure that he left it for her if it was the last thing she did. 

    She sighed again. 

    "Look, how about we skip all this and just have dessert. It's a particularly tasty Christmas pudding. While we're eating it I can deal with the necessary arrangements and then you can go. Go back to the wonderful lives you must all lead, and then we never have to cross paths again. Deal?"

Charles. 

"Rightio," said Charles, infinitely relieved. He hoped that Agatha hadn't found the bottle of red that he had secretly stashed away in a shoe cupboard in the spare room. He refrained from rubbing his hands together with glee. 

Ruby 

'Finally, a sensible suggestion. I can get the hell out of here.' Ruby thought. Everybody looked at her with varied expressions... "I thought out loud again didn't I?" she said. 

Ben

Ben felt a small twinge of something at Agathas words. 'What was it?' he thought. He looked at his hostess with her beautiful eyes and delicate wrists and realised that maybe he didn't want to leave and never see her again. She was...really quite sweet. But he couldn't out stay his welcome so he resigned himself to another Christmas with just his brother and a box set. 

Agatha

Agatha bought out the steaming hot Christmas pudding and placed it on the table, in place of the turkey which had been dumped in the kitchen with the hope she might salvage some to make curry with. She wasn't too hopeful but she had learnt over the years how to be thrifty and she had to try. 

   The guests looked underwhelmed at her Christmas pud, but she could hardly blame them after her previous efforts of the night. She served up four helpings and dolloped the brandy sauce on top. 

    They all picked up their spoons cautiously, hoping that a catastrophic event would suddenly prevent them from eating it. Agatha took a bite. 

Charles

The girl took a bite so Charles felt he should follow suit. He took as small a mouthful as he could without drawing attention to himself and put the spoon in his mouth. The taste was...the taste was surprisingly good. He could not contain his shocked expression. 

Ruby. 

'So the girl can make a Christmas pud. At least she can do something right.'This time no one looked at her so she was fairly confident she had managed to keep her thoughts inside her head. 

Ben

Ben took a spoonful and grimaced. There was one thing he hated and that was Christmas pudding. And trifle. And chocolate gateaux. In fact he wasn't really a pudding kind of person. For so many years of trying to look good, stay healthy so he could wear the clothes he liked to wear, his taste buds were no longer fond of sweet things. And plus he hated raisins. But he would persevere because after the terrible night his hostess had had she deserved to know he appreciated her for something. 

    "You know," he said suddenly, putting down his spoon, "this one time I was out on a date with this girl and we went to a quiet little restaurant with soft music in the background and candles on the tables. The conversation was lovely, she was really nice, the food was amazing. But after the main course she asked the waiter for a glass of ice...nothing else, just ice. When it came she popped one in her mouth and crunched...really loudly, with her mouth open. I listened to her as she munched through 16 ice cubes ...I know it was 16, I counted...and by the end the whole restaurant was looking at us in pure disgust. It was then that I realised what I feared...hearing people eat. Apples, carrots, ice...it sends shivers down my spine!"

    He finished with gusto and expected people to laugh. He got a disgusted look off Ruby, a puzzled face from Charles and Agatha gave a polite smile but looked back down at her pudding. 

   Maybe it was best that they leave soon. 

Agatha 

'It was a very sweet thing to do,' she thought as she took another mouthful, 'but it doesn't really come close to breaking the frozen ice of this party.'

    "What is it about mice then," Ben asked, trying to cover up his belly flop of a story. 

   "Oh...oh I'd rather not talk about it if that's ok? I um...I don't like to dwell on it, I just don't like them. Now excuse me a moment while I go and get something that nan left."

    Agatha practically ran to the bedroom where she had kept the letter..the place she kept all her treasured things ...mementos, photos, shoes. She opened the drawer and found to her surprise the bottle of wine that Charles had brought. She had a moment of feeling triumphant and took it back out, hiding it instead in the box seat that was against the window. It had a secret compartment, a lid that opened up. She mostly kept rugs and cushions in there but it was a perfect place to hide an expensive looking bottle of wine. Then she went back to the drawer, moved her most favourite shoes aside and found the letter, beautifully written in her nans handwriting. She held it in her hands, treasuring this moment that she had waited for for over 6 months. She wished she could just get them to leave so she could savour this moment on her own, rather than with 3 strangers. Agatha found herself wondering yet again what her nan had been up to when she plotted all of this. She sniffed the letter, taking in the smell of the paper, the mustiness of the drawer but also smelling the perfume that her nan always wore. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and drop onto the letter, and there she let it stay. 

Chapter 12

1 year ago

Agatha 

"Miss Monnow, James Black won't give me back the car and I had it first. And he said I smelt of wee wee."

   Agatha looked at the little girl in front of her and smiled, her unnatural but never ending patience with these children her most greatest gift. She knelt down and looked the child in the eye. 

    "Now Rose we know that telling tales is not very nice is it? Now let's go together and ask James to give you the car back, ok? Come on then," she said and took the little girls hand. 

    James Black - black by name, black by nature. He was from a large family with 4 older brothers and a father who worked  away for much of the year. His mother tried her best but the behaviour of her youngest child left a lot to be desired. 

    "James," Agatha said sweetly as she approached the boy who was hitting another boy on the head with the car he was taken, "James we don't hit do we?" She went to take the car from him but he swung his arm away from her and hit her in the eye. 

    "Oopth," he said, stopping in his tracks at seeing his teacher covering her eye and trying not to cry with the pain. The little girl Rose burst into tears however and ran away crying "Miss Monnow has a baddy, James Black did it!" to the nearest nursery school teacher. 

    Agatha groaned, this would mean an accident report, a health and safety report and the boy's mother would have to be informed, just what she needed with another baby on the way. 

    "It's ok Rose, I'm fine," she called after the little girl who thankfully had run to Elsie, a trusted friend of Agathas who also would not want the hassle of filling out reports. 

    "Thorry mith Monroe," he said with genuine concern in his eyes. 

   "That's ok James, it was an accident. But did you take the car from Rose?"

   "Yeth mith Monroe but only becauth she took it from me firtht. I wath jutht playing with it and she thnatched it away."

    "Did you also call her a name?"

    "Yeth, I called her a wee wee."

    He said it with such seriousness that Agatha had to bite her lip in order not to laugh. He ran off from her at that moment before she had a chance to reprimand him for the name calling but she let him go. He was a sweet lad really, just needed some love and one on one time. 

   Elsie came over at that moment with a wailing Rose clinging to her leg, concerned look on her face.  

   "You alright love?" she asked. 

   "Oh yes, of course I am. You know me, resilient to the end. Rose," she said firmly, turning to the girl, "stop that crying. I'm fine, look, nothing wrong with me." She removed her hand from her eye but it must have looked bad because it made Rose scream even louder and even Elsie wrinkled up her nose, wincing at the sight. 

    The nursery manager, Victoria had started to notice the commotion and Agatha knew that it would be any moment before she came over to see what was wrong. One sniff of trouble and Agatha would be filling out forms all night. And she had plans. 

   "Right Rose," she said suddenly, an idea forming in her mind, "why don't you do some face painting on me, make me into a beautiful butterfly or a flower."

   "Like a rose?" she hiccuped. 

   "Yes, like a rose! Come on, let's go over here." She led the girl to the craft cupboard and found the face paints, which they only used on special occasions, and let her paint her face with many colours. Victoria seemed content that everything was ok and in no time at all Agathas bruise was covered in bright green and pink smudges. 

   

  A few hours later and Agatha was driving in her battered old VW beetle - which she likes to call vintage - in the rain to her favourite place in the whole wide world. A place with Christmas cinnamon smells the whole year round, a place with freshly baked scones no matter how late notice it is that you're dropping by and a place with a happy, funny, wonderful woman who could sort any problem out with a good ear to listen and a funny story for every bad situation. 

    Agatha parked outside and locked the door, praying that the lock wouldn't stick like it did most rainy days. The key had survived so she skipped happily up the path to her grandmothers quaint little terraced Victorian cottage which had ivy growing on the outside and had a grand front door with stained glass windows. She rapped out her fondest knock and waited for the familiar creak of the doors inside and the mumbling she always made as she shuffled her way. Her grandmother was in her late 80s but she was a bright thing, fully in control of her life and her faculties. She often went out, catching the bus, train or taxi, visiting friends of old who could not leave their house, making new friends on the way, collecting them and their stories like stamps. She loved people  and attracted them wherever she went. In fact Agatha had something of a reputation when it came to her grandmother. People would stop her in the street, complete strangers and hug her or shake her hand or occasionally kiss her on the cheek. She was one of the most popular people in the town, purely because of Atta Monroe. 

    Agatha knocked again, concerned that she couldn't hear her on the other side of the door. After another minute Agatha started fishing round in the bottom of her bag for the spare key. She wasn't worried, occasionally her nan had been too busy in the guest room doing her yoga DVD in nothing but a thong. That had been something of a shock but Atta just carried on the stretch she was doing until she had quite finished. Another time Agatha had burst in because she could hear screams but her nan and the local creep Old man Taylor were just in her front room with the curtains shut watching scary films. They'd had the sound up loud because he was hard of hearing. So Agatha wasn't too worried about how her grandmother was...just worried about what she would find her doing this time. 

    She opened the door and called out cautiously but heard nothing back. Frowning, she walked from room to room, unable to find her downstairs. Agatha thought she heard something in the front bedroom so climbed the stairs slowly, not wanting to startle her nan or cause her to have kittens over being interrupted again. 

   But when Agatha got to the top her heart nearly stopped. She could see an unmoving foot. She ran to the room and pushed open the door, and cried out at seeing her precious nan lying on the floor with her dressing gown on with what appeared to have been a stroke. 

The ambulance arrived quickly and took the both of them directly to the hospital. Agatha was in a state of shock and kept looking at the paramedics as though they were speaking Greek to her. There were decisions to be made, phone calls to be made, but Agatha couldn't deal with any of it. When they got to the hospital the staff rushed her nan away from her and a nurse came and took her to one side, partly to get her out of the way and partly to ask some vital questions. 

   "Come on love, let's sit over here. Can I ask you some questions?" 

    Agatha just looked at her blankly, struggling to focus on the speaker of the voice. 

   "Come on pet, we just need to find out a few things about your nan. Are you the next of kin or is there someone else we should call?"

   "My dad. Call my dad."

   "Ok love, have you got his number there?"

   Agatha gave the nurse her phone with the number and she went to the nurses station to make the call. When she came back she handed her a sweet cup of tea. 

    Agatha laughed when she took a sip, appreciating the irony in the situation. The nurse looked at her through narrowed eyes. 

    "Sorry, it's just that...my nan swears by sweet tea when you've had a shock."

    "Sounds like your nan knows what she's talking about."

    "Will she be ok?"

   "I can't say that pet, but we'll do everything we can for her. Lots of people get through a stroke and have great lives."

    "She's the most important person in the world to me. I can't lose her."

Agatha choked down the sobs and took another sip of tea. 

An hour later her father burst through the door. Agatha was staring into space when he arrived, had not even noticed the disturbance. 

   "Aggie," he cried, running over and sweeping her up into a great bear hug.

   She held him tightly and cried into his strong, familiar smelling shoulder. He had been at home watching the rugby probably, and thrown his work clothes on which would have been the easiest thing to find. 

    "Oh Aggs," he said, finally pulling away from her to look into her eyes. 

"How is she?"

   "I don't know dad, they won't tell me anything. They wanted you, you're her next of kin."

    "Let's go and see them now, together." 

    They walked to the nurses station and waited for someone to be available for them. Everyone seemed to be on the phone or dealing with patients. 

   "You're looking good Aggs, really good."

   "Thanks dad. How's Molly?"

   "Yeah, she's...ok." Her dad smiled awkwardly at her but it didn't make Agatha smile back.

   "She wants a baby actually. I keep telling her that I'm too old but she's desperate and you know what she's like when she gets an idea in her head."

   "Well that's what happens when you marry a woman half your age."

   "Don't start Aggs, not now." 

   They continued to wait in silence, Agatha unable to speak for fear of saying something she would regret. She was tired, stressed and worried...really worried. She bit her lip, an old habit of hers, and started shifting from foot to foot. 

   "Come on, come on," she muttered impatiently. 

   "Alright love, they're busy. Give them a break."

    "I just want to know what's wrong with Nan. She'll hate being in here, I want to take her home."

   "She won't be coming home tonight love, not if it was a stroke."

   "It probably wasn't, they can't say until they've done tests and stuff."

   Her dad kept quiet, not wanting to distress his daughter further. He put his arm around her and pulled her into him, something she found hard to resist. 

   Finally a nurse came over and spoke to them about the early prognosis the doctors had made. It did appear to have been a stroke and by all probability a bad one. 

   "But look, people recover from strokes all the time. It'll take some hard work and dedication but there's no reason why she can't gain back a good portion of her life."

   The nurse was trying to help, Agatha knew this, but she didn't know Atta Monroe like they did. She didn't know how independent she was, and how sociable she was, and how many people relied on her. There did not seem to be any positives in this situation and Agatha felt desperation roll over her in a tidal wave.