A Kindred Spirit

Granddad, eek! Sam, lanky and wrapped in an oversized coat, tugged at his grandfathers arm, his little fingers still probing his own lips.

Bill Thompson gave his grandson a sideways glance, tightening the redandblack checkered scarf around his neck. The heavy wool scarf always brushed Sams face whenever Bill leaned in to speak.

Now the stray loops of wool tickled Sams frosty cheeks, and he winced, rubbing his cheeks with his fingers before giving Bill a plaintive stare.

Come on, Bill growled, halfroar, halfsnort. Whats that? You say eek? Say Im hungry!say it proper, got it? He stared into Sams eyes with his own redveined gaze.

The two sets of eyes were mirror images, one a tiny replica of the other. Bills eyes had seen too much, never shedding tears, only burning with a stubborn pride. Sams eyes only knew the house and the nursery, the occasional trip to the local pub with Bills mates. Sams eyes wept quietly, trying not to be scolded.

Eek, Sam whispered.

Hungry! Bill bellowed.

Eek, eek Sam muttered, the two of them stuck in that endless loop while snow kept falling, blanketing the pair like a white sheetif not for a woman who appeared out of nowhere.

Betty, you alright? shouted Daisy Clarke, the cook from the canteen All for Soup, her face lit by twinkling fairy lights strung above the flustered pair.

Granddad, whats that scarf, love? Redwhat are you, Santa? Daisy laughed, coughing a little.

Its mine, Ive had it forever. No need to fuss, Bill muttered, straightening up and poking his nose into Daisys generous smile.

Alright, you grumpy old man, Daisy said, shaking her head. Whats with the lad? Did Lucy not look after him?

Lucys off on a work trip, Bill replied, spitting out the words. Shes away this monthshes hung a rope over you, you sly thing! Father not showing up?

Daisy swiped the snow off Sams hat with her gloved hand. Shes gone on business, dear. Shell be back soon, but until then youre stuck with me.

Bills face hardened. I remember the first night its been ages since anyones checked in. Hes a bother with his disability. Hes got a proper kid now, a normal one. Got it, Sam?

Sam shrugged. Dont get it. Maybe its better this way.

Whether we like it or not, its not our call, Daisy said, her breath smelling of soup, meatballs and something sweet. Sams stomach rumbled at the scent.

So, the gardens not feeding him, the lads at the club say the girls turning away, and he keeps whining eek, eek. Let him learn to say hungry and Ill buy him a loaf. Thats my final word, Bill declared, furrowing his brow.

Daisy stared at him, biting her lower lip, then gave Bill a sharp pat on the back that made him wobble.

My final wordno starving kid on my watch. Hes not an invalid, he just lags behind. Hell catch up. Youll see, Sam? she said, winking.

Sam stared back, feeling his belly tighten uncomfortably.

Fine then, lets head to the canteen. Ive got the day off, Lucys covering me. Plenty of space at the stove for everyone! Follow me, you lot! Daisy called, marching like she was leading a platoon.

Not now, weve got to get home, Bill said, stepping back.

He didnt feel like wandering strangers corners. Better to trudge home, take the lift to the eighth floor, press the buttons for Sam, and mutter about how Sam would pull his arm out of his coat and how Bill would curse that the boy was turning into a dunce.

Sam would quiet down, then start his eek again, the mute little pest

And so they left. Daisy watched them go, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. She wanted to care, to warm, feed, cuddlebut not Bill, that wasnt her cup of tea. She cared for Sam, that timid boy

Winter stretched on, Lucy popped in and out of work trips, Bill kept taking Sam to the garden, grumbling, tugging Sams hat, fastening his coat with shaking hands. They trudged through the town, their red scarf flashing like a lighthouse in the blizzard, while Daisy kept an eye on them from her kitchen window.

One particularly bleak day, Daisy could take it no more and hauled them into her canteen.

Im telling you, were not going anywhere else. Home, Sam! Alexander! Bill roared, reaching for his nieces hand.

He knew theyd reached a breaking point. Beyond that was darkness and despair. Sam sometimes searched for his mothers coat in the hallway, sniffing at it, and he was scared of his granddad.

Sometimes Sam would cry in his sleep, reaching for someone. Bill would slip his hand under Sams, but Sam pushed it away.

Your loves foolish! Bill snarled. You dont need mumshes at the restaurant with a glass shaking in her hand while youre here whimpering

Imagining all that evening misery, Bill finally agreed to help Daisy at work.

Right, Bill! Whats at home? Ive got a jammy cake! Come on!

The All for Soup canteen was packed, cheap but heartyjust like home cooking. Soup, roast, buttered peas, a simple salad, fruit punch. Occasionally theyd serve a curry, which Daisy had learned from a suitor, making it taste wowwow. Sweet carrots, finely chopped onions, rice grains separate, buttery and glossy, a little meat on top.

Enjoy, folks! Daisy would say when thanked.

She cooked like she was feeding a big family with chubby kids and a hardworking husband. Hed sip a whisky with a salty herring, chat about politics, then sing a song. She always wanted three kidsgender didnt matter, just a warm little bundle to sip her milk. Shed make porridge, compote, soupsshed have them all. But life didnt go that way.

Why was Daisy alone? She never told anyone. She just lived, thats all. There arent many women like her on this earth

The canteens patronsmen, boys, and the cookglanced at them, some bowing, some nodding. It was the usual welcome for the regulars, the drunkards, the thieves, all grateful the master didnt turn them away.

Come on, bring him in, Samhes starving! Daisy opened the back room, a tiny space with two tables, a bed, and a wardrobe. Whats the matter? Frozen? Well have a broth ready. Sit down, Sam. Heres a chairjust right for a little bear. And for granddad too. And Illstand like a horse she gestured, then vanished behind the door.

Bill, reluctantly, stripped down, shivering. Hed been feverish for days, bones aching, longing for tea with jam, a bun, and a good nights sleep. And then there was Sam

It turned out Sam hadnt been right from the start. Lucy had told his father right after the birth.

Did they drop him? Bill asked, frowning. Didnt you look?

No, I didnt want to go out. Itd have been better if Id never had him, Lucy complained bitterly.

Dont worry, itll be fine. Well manage, a young man said, leaning over the cot where Sam wriggled in his blankets.

Months passed, Lucy drifted away, Bill took Sam to the garden, fed him, dressed him, fried two eggs for them. They ate in silence, forks clinking. Billd have a dram, and the teacher inside him would surface.

After washing dishes, Bill would sit with sleepy Sam on the sofa, hug him, and watch Youth series after series. Sam got bored looking at portraits, but Bill would poke his tiny finger, urging him to repeat words.

Sam tried. Hed watch Bills lips, touch them, then his own, and breathe out something like a word. Hed stumble, Bill would get frustrated, the magazine would fly off the table, and Sam would be sent to bed.

Did Bill love Sam? He wasnt sure. He loved, maybe, but didnt understand. He didnt know how to help.

Alright, kids, grab a spoon! Daisy burst into the room with a tray piled high with plates. Sam turned away and started crying.

In the garden, old Mrs. Green, squeezing Sams lips, tried to get a spoonful of soup into him. He turned his head, wincing.

Daisy, however, set a stool, placed plates before herself and the others, and began to eat. Warmth spread through Bills chilled body, a mix of rosemary, salty pickles, and comfort.

Weve known each other for ages, havent we? Daisy said to Sam. About thirty years now, right? Weve had our fights, our laughs, even got engaged onceyeah, thats true! She poured a spoonful of soup into Sams mouth. Good, isnt it? You have to eat well, Sam. Lifes about joy.

Sams eyes widened, his mouth opening like a fledgling reaching for the spoon. He gulped it down, then a fish cake appeared, followed by mashed potatoes with little smiley faces drawn on them. Then tea, and Daisy served a jammy cake shed promised.

Bill adored her pies. His wife never baked, so she welcomed Daisys treats gratefully and never got jealous. She also loved hearing Daisy sing.

Daisys low, throaty voice filled the room, making everyones hearts melt. Bill hummed along, Sam echoed the last line of a song about a horse running free over a poppy field.

Sam, like that horse, was young and clumsy, stumbling through life, his legs tangled, scared of everything.

After a while, Daisy helped Bill straighten Sams coat, then said, Bill, give me a ring if you need anything. Ill be there.

Bill nodded.

A few days later Bill fell ill, couldnt get out of bed. He had to wake Sam, feed him, take him to the nursery, get ready for work, but his cough left him curled under the blankets. Nausea hit, the room spun, night fell.

A frightened Sam sat on the edge of Bills bed, pulling on his socks and sweater.

Look at you, all dressed, Bill whispered, smiling. Sam, I love you, you hear? I love you very much!

Hed never said that before. Hed been shy.

Its you dont get it, do you? Sam mumbled.

Sam threw himself onto Bills chest, pressed his lips to Bills chin, then wrapped his arms around his neck tightly.

Bill felt like the whole worldparents, grandparents, everyonewas in Sams hug. And Sam finally understood.

Soon Daisy knocked on the door, begging Sam to open it. Bill stood there, grey and frail.

Whats the matter now? Daisy roared. Your arm going to fall off? Stop whining, you hypochondriac! Youll die, Lucy will pull you out of the coffin! And Ill she muttered, dragging bags into the kitchen.

She later gave Bill painful injections in his fifth point.

Sam turned his head to Bills hair and stroked it.

Dont cry, itll pass, Daisy whispered, delivering another injection.

Bill groaned, then laughed, flipping onto his back, scooping Sam onto his lap, shaking him gently.

Youre lying, youre not whining! Ive got you, so why whine? he muttered.

Something clicked for Sam, words started to form. In summer, sitting on a bridge by the river, Sam swatted a mosquito off Bills hand and said clearly, I love you, understand?

I understand, Bill shrugged, then criedtears of joy.

Daisy urged everyone to be happy, and she was right. Joy sat beside them, barefoot, laughing. Lucy, on the other hand, vanished, refusing to deal with a boy like Sam.

Bill and Sam became regulars at All for Soup. Daisy always kept an eye out for them, waving from the window whenever her shift changed, and even when it didnt, she still came by to feed them.

Lets strike a deal, Daisy, Bill said one day. Just friendship and respect between us, yeah? No funny business.

Of course! Daisy laughed. You still need to be fed proper, then.

Bill was a bit miffed, but he soon changed his mind. It felt good when someone looked after you.

The next time he showed up with a bouquet of chrysanthemums from a flower shop. Sam watched him sniff them, puckering his lips, then finally handed the bunch over.

The chrysanthemums are blooming late this year, Sam remarked, recalling a song Daisy liked.

The love lives on in my sick heart, Bill crooned, tapping his chest.

Sam chased after him, hopping joyfully. It was a good day, and Bill was a good granddad. Whether the chrysanthemums were worth the fuss, who knows? Well see.