Bananas for Grandma

And dont forget bananas for Gran Nora! Only the small ones, please, you know she likes them. Not whatever you picked up last time! Amelia! I really dont understand, is it truly that hard to do as youre asked?

Amelia Thompson, chief accountant of a successful firm, mother of two and a rather content wife, sighed softly, nodding to the empty office, not caring that her mum couldnt see her. It scarcely mattered; Amelia knew well enough her mother would somehow sense precisely how shed responded to those carefully dispensed instructions.

And dont just nod, do it! I know what youre like! Scatterbrained, thats what! Amelia, its high time you grew up!

Amelia didnt bother nodding again. She simply replied, Yes, alright! ending the call with her mother.

Grow up, indeed Shed laughif only it didnt feel so close to tearsbeing just over forty evidently didnt count for much.

There was still half an hour left at work, and she tried to focus on her report. It wasnt going well. Unwelcome thoughts crowded her mind, mostly bad ones. And she, honestly, was a good girlas Mum always claimed.

Our little Amy is so clever! Such a lovely girl!

That had been sweet when she was in nurserya picture-perfect girl in frills and ribbons, a blessing.

Well, a mischievous blessing. Because after nursery, Mum collected nothing but a scruffy tomboy.

Amelia! What do you call that on your head?

A birds nest! Mrs Carter said so. She said if I stood still, the birds might come and lay eggs. There must be some use in my hair like this, right?

And your ribbons?

Cant remember! Toby took one. For his anchor rope. Mum, do you know hes got a real boat? His dad built it! Mrs Carter showed us todayfilled a tub with water and off it went! So brilliant!

And the other ribbon?

No idea. Eleanor wanted it and wandered off with it. Mum, why does the wind blow?

Amelia!

What?!

Stop pestering me with daft questions! My heads splitting!

Amelia always fell quiet then, walking home in silence and watching Mum from the side, wondering if her head would ever be alright or if it might have to be thrown away like the eggshells her mum tossed out while making scrambled eggs.

Amelias imagination was always too much for her, and before theyd even reached home, her lower lip would wobble, and then shed bellow in a husky voice, driving Mum completely up the wall.

Amelia! Whats with the performance?!

She could never explain. She just felt so dreadfully sorry for Mum, her throbbing head and sodden mood, she wanted to wail even louderjust like next-doors Daisy.

Daisy was a pretty daft dog, always howling for no reason, but she made a true drama of it when her owner, Uncle Bill, the local plumber, went on a bender. Then Daisys wails tormented the whole block, neighbours clamoured for someone to take her away, but Daisy always stayed. Only once, when Bill disappeared for good, did Daisy fall abruptly, mid-howl, into silence. All the neighbours who were home then knewtrouble had come.

Bill was seen off by everyone on the street. He was a good man, always the first to helpbut weak-willed, Mum used to say.

Daisy shuffled out after them, sitting quietly on the step, eyes fixed on the receding crowd and the scattered flowers. She never howled again. Amelia, kept home from nursery that day because she was scheduled for the dentist, stroked Daisys head. The dog didnt even flick her stump of a tailthough usually shed beam at the slightest touch. Mum tugged Amelias hand and they walked on, but when they came back, Daisy was still there, motionless, stiff with grief. Amelia could have sworn, marking a cross on her tummy the way Toby showed, that the little dog was crying.

Mum, why arent there tears?

Amelia didnt know what laced that question. But Mum trembled, looking at Daisy, then hunkered down:

Daisy darling come with us. Hes not coming home

Did the dog understand? Amelia never found out. Mum didnt wait for a reply, just scooped Daisy carefully up.

So Daisy became Amelias dog. She lived a very long timeseventeen more years. Amelia had already left school and married by then, and Daisy never once howled again. She ate quietly, let them wash her paws, followed Amelia or her parents for walks; but she never found her voice again. Even when she closed her eyes, nestling her nose in Amelias tear-stained palm for the last time, she just sighed, almost humanly, before drifting away.

Amelia never had another dog, not even when her children pleaded. The memory of Daisys dark, wise, strangely human eyes held her back.

Really, Amelia had a happy childhood. She had everything she could wantMum, Dad, two grannies, a one-eared toy rabbit, and pancakes with homemade cream every weekend. There was also Granny Olives cottage out near Surrey, which Amelia and Mum rarely visitedwhy, she never quite understood as a girl, though it was one of those grown-up secrets not meant for children. Everyone enjoyed the cottage except Mum, and as a child, Amelia didnt see that.

She especially loved trips to the seaside with her other grandmother, Nora. Granny Nora was her favourite, spending every spare minute with her, answering any question Amelia could musterunlike Granny Olive, for whom taboos abounded, earning scoldings from Amelias mother.

For heavens sake, Mum, why? Shes too young! She wont understand!

You were never slow. You always understood. Amelias just the same.

Amelia couldnt stop giggling when Mum got flustered like that, stumped for comebacks. She probably grasped less than half of Grannys explanations about where babies came from, but she hung on every word, promising herself to ask soon why grown-ups didnt always tell children the truth.

She had good reason to wonder. The grown-ups tried to hide the familys troubles. Yet now and then, muffled rows drifted from her parents bedroom, and then Mums soft sobbing. Granny Olive pursed her lips and looked past Mum whenever they visited.

Not that Amelia understoodshed drag Mum into the kitchen, where Granny prepared her famous cherry pie.

Mum, youve got to learn from Granny! Then you can make this pie at home! Its so good, and you really dont know how.

Mum shook her off, shaking her head:

No.

No one explained, keeping up appearances. Later, Amelia realisedbecoming relatives doesnt mean becoming close.

Her parents divorced when she was ten.

The birthday party Mum had thrown was still in full swing when the front door slammed. Amelia glanced at Mum, startled.

Well, thats that then

Daisy, quicker to sense things than Amelia, pressed warm and solid against her mothers leg. Some friend called Amelia away, shouting that the cake was coming. When she returned to fetch Mum, she found both woman and dog in silent company, staring at some invisible, private point.

When she timidly asked, Mum startled and quickly replied,

Of course! Everythings fine! Go back to your guests!

Minutes later, she appeared smiling in the doorway, bearing the cake shed spent all night perfecting.

When the house grew quiet, Amelia curled beside her, earning a big spoon.

Good cake? Well, thats that. To hell with diets, Amelia, and with the rest! There will be a celebration for us yet, youll see!

What Mum meant, Amelia didnt know. Afterwards, with Dads child support barely stretching to new shoes or jumpers for a growing teenand not always at thatcelebrations came less often. Only New Years and Amelias birthdays stayed sacred. Mum stopped marking hers at all.

Gran Nora, unruffled by Amelias listening in, insisted her daughter should find happiness again. But Amelia saw these conversations distressed her mother.

Ive had enough, Mum. I really have.

As Amelia grew up, she wondered what if Mum hadnt shut herself away? If shed let herself fall in love again? Let go and dared to find happiness anew? There was no answer. Amelia sometimes imagined a brother or sister, a laughing Mum, a happier home.

But in truth, Mum hadnt laughed in years. She became sterner, and Amelia had to try hard not to snap at her nitpicking. Shed often failed as a teenager, but Daisys tiny, sharp teeth flashing silently beside Mum would always send her retreating to her room or to Grans.

Daisy only ever bit her onceafter some especially heated row, the dog quietly appeared and pinched Amelias ankle. It hurt fiercely; Amelia howled. Daisy let go and left, unconcerned. The pain faded, but Amelia rememberedDaisy knew exactly what was good for children and dogs alike.

Gran explained a lot now and then, blunt as always.

What do you expect? Any woman gets prickly without love.

But shes got us, hasnt she?

Oh, petal, its not the same. A woman needs to feel like a woman. No amount of love from children or parents replaces that. Maybe youll understand one day. I certainly do. When your granddad died, I was only forty. Far too soon. I had a few romances, yes. Dont laugh, I wasnt always an old dear! But I loved your granddad. Still do. Cant imagine anyone else at my side. Its one thing to accept flowers or try a restaurant, quite another sharing a pillow daily. Wait until youre married. Knowing you, itll be soon!

Gran, Im sixteen!

So? Your mum was just eighteen when she came home head in the clouds, said shed met your father and couldnt imagine life without him. That he managed fine without her, she didnt care. Some would say she fell for him like a cat on the tileshead over heels. But I saw she truly loved him. No illusions, no drama. She knew thered be strife; his family never accepted her, he was the golden boy. She bore it as long as she could, only not forgiving one thing.

What?

The affair. Im sorry, darling, you ought to know sooner or later. Your mum endured so much: coldness, advice that wounded, always accused of not doing enough, not loving enough. As if that could be measured. I want you to know this not to hate your father. Hes made his choice. Whats the point of bitterness? There’s a bit of both your parents in you. You cannot simply cut off half of yourself.

Mums never said a bad word about him.

Nor will she. Shes wiseshe knows hell always be your dad, and you, his girl. Why make things harder?

Does she still love him?

I think she might. Thats why she changes nothing.

Gran, do you think Ill ever love someone like that?

I can only hope, sweetheart, that if you do, hell be good enough to be worth it.

Amelia met her husband, Edward, in just the way Gran predicted. She was rushingfirst day of universitythe corridor was packed, and she collided with a tall, awkward young man. She barely glimpsed his face as he steadied her, his voice wry, still boyish but confident:

At this rate, Ill never keep up! Quick, give me your number before you dash off again!

She didnt, of course, but when she left her exam, waving her marks triumphantly, there he was waiting, smiling in the corridor.

They married three years later. At first, they moved in with Mum, but Amelia knew this couldnt last.

Mum never warmed to Edward.

What kind of job is software engineer? Hunched over a screen all day, always snacking. Soon youll have a baby elephant by your side.

Oh, dont exaggerate, Mum. Do you begrudge him a sandwich?

Im just worried about you. Youll cry over him, you see

Edward fought hard for years to earn his mother-in-laws trust, but eventually did. Nearly a decade later, Amelias mother admitted that her son-in-law was worth his weight in gold.

By then the Thompsons had their own flat. Edward poured energy into launching his company; Amelia darted between home viewings, knowingestate agents live on their feet. Granny or Great-Granny took turns with their eldest, and Amelia thanked fate both were still sharp and relatively well.

The first inkling of trouble came when Amelia was pregnant again.

Amelia, do you think youre the Queen? You disappear for an hour without a word! Ive got my own life to live! her mother fumed, stirring a giant pot of Eds favourite spring soup. Right, thats ready! Im off. Next time, sort your time, and mine, better!

Amelia was bewildered: shed only just nipped to the surgery, just round the corner, for her scheduled appointmentit barely took a lunch break. But that had been the day before. Today, Mum arrived first thing, cooked enough for a wedding, and then claimed Amelia had vanished.

Mum refused any check-ups, no matter how much Amelia pleaded.

What for? Im healthy as an ox. You should worry about Norashe could use a doctor.

Amelia, after discussing with Edward, called in a trusted specialist found by her dad.

I wish I had better news. Therell need to be a full workup, but even now I can tell youhard days lie ahead.

Amelia listened, icy fear spreading to her fingertips. Was the doctor really talking about her mother? She was still young. How could her health fail so soon?

It could be many things. It wont help to know all the causes. Better to concentrate on keeping things calmminimising stress is key.

Can that really make a difference?

Medicine is always advancing, but for now, all we can do is slow things, support her wellbeing, and hope for the best. Maybe something new will appear soon.

Then, Amelia understood: everything was about to change. The changes frightened her, but there was no stopping them. No one in her world was closer than Mumnot Edward, not the children, not even Dad or Gran. Mum was everything. It was now her purpose to make whatever came as gentle as possible. After all, the doctor had saidpeace was the best medicine.

Moving her mother into their new house wasnt a memory Amelia liked to dwell on. Edward had pulled out all the stops, and the house was theirs, even if it meant going deep into debt.

Well manage, as long as were under one roof and youre at ease.

Amelia hid her face in Edwards shoulder, knowing full well peace would never return as before.

She was right.

Her mother kept forgetting where she was and insisted on going back home.

Mum, your rooms right down the hall.

Why would I want your guest room? I have my own house!

Of course, but I really need your help with the boys tomorrow. And Grans a bit poorlystay for us, please?

Alright, but dont get used to it. I have my own life, you know!

Naturally, Mum, I understand.

Honestly, what would you know about it, Amelia? At your age!

If not for Gran, who stayed to care for her mother, Amelia would have lost her mind long before she adapted to this bewildering new normal.

Gran, does she really remember nothing?

Oh, Amy, she remembers plenty. Mostly the distant pastshe recalls things Ive long forgotten. Now I realise how little time I gave her as a childwork, nursery, after-school clubs We had barely a couple of hours a day. I only began to mother properly when I had youyou were the child I raised and treasured. Your mother, well shes my heartbreak, my regret. I wish I could take back the years I let slip by. Sometimes I feel everything happening now is to let her forgive me and her father, and life itself. Yes, she grumbles, she snaps, but really its nothing. When she looks at me with those searching eyes, as if trying to remember who I am, I know she feels no more pain. She smiles. And that is terrifying, Amy, but also good. All any mother wants is one seconds joy for their child. In those moments, I see shes young and all is before herlove, you, and the sorrows she doesnt know yet. Oh, Amy, how do we survive this?

I dont know, Gran I dont know

Amelia saw just how hard Gran found facing the coming lossthe slow slipping away of her only daughter to a world from which no one returns. Many times shed find Mum sitting on the floor by Grans chair, where Gran sat stiff and still. Amelia would ask softly:

Take her away?

Let her be, love. Its only for a while

Gran passed away barely a year after Amelia accepted that life would never be the same.

Take care of her, Amy! Protect her, as if she were your own child. I simply cant anymore

Amelia bit her lip and nodded, trying not to show Gran just how frightened she was to be left with all this responsibility.

Stop thinking of her as your mother now. We grow childlike again with ageits true. Children feel with their hearts, not their headsliving impulsively, by emotion. Please, Amy, see her as a child now. Love her. When you need to scream with frustration, dojust not where shell hear. Dont frighten her. After, remember what I said, and hold her close One day, youll long for this kindness from your own childrenpromise me!

I promise

How many times would Amelia recall that conversation? Countless. Even now, again.

She checked the clock, sighed, reaching for her bag. Purse, car keys, umbrellayes, all there. Time to go: collect her elder son from football, stop at the school for the younger, then to the shop. For bananas. The little ones. Just as Gran liked.

Because, with those bananas, Mum mightfor a momentthink Gran was still alive. Shed only need to walk down the corridor, not minding the carers curious glance, open the lounge door and see that armchairclashing awfully with everything else, but it would stay as long as it was remembered. Mum would grumble:

Amelia! Honestly, cant you clean the upholstery? How many times?! Did you get the bananas? Gran will be here soon. She asked for them.

Of course, Mum. Have a seat. Ill make us tea.

And someone would fill the chair. And thered be time to lean her cheek into those familiar hands, to catch that stern but gentle look, and smile back at:

Amelia, whats that on your head? Wheres your brush? Fetch itIll tidy you up. Goodness, look at the timeits so late Off to bed with you! What will you have for breakfast? Porridge, or pancakes?