Page 29 of Birds of a Feather

‘Oh, you know,’ she said coyly. ‘This and that.’

I hmphed down the line. Normally I wouldn’t dream of probing for information from someone who was clearly not willing to share. I hated when Jarrah pressured me for what she irritatingly referred to as ‘the 411’. But this felt different; I felt completely invested.

‘We’re speaking again tonight.’

‘It must have gone well, then,’ I said. Geoff appeared at the doorway and nodded to indicate he wanted to speak to me. ‘I have to get back inside for another meeting, but give me a call tonight after you’ve spoken to her.’

‘I will, pet. Wish me luck.’

~

That night, after I had washed up from dinner, folded my clean washing and selected my outfit for the next day, I settled down on the couch with my phone close by.

I watched a documentary about a woman advocating for better food labelling regulations in hospitality venues after her son suffered a fatal allergic reaction. Then I sat through a debate between a conservative white male politician and a drag queen about the need to invest in the arts. I started a detective show set in a tiny English county with a worrying rate of crime per capita, but I must have dozed off before the handsome cop figured out whether the priest had been murdered by the loyal parishioner or the creepy publican. I started awake when my phone chimed with a message from Gran.

It’s late. I’ll call you tomorrow. It went well. xx

I typed a reply: I’m so glad, Gran. I can’t wait to hear all about it. x

Another message quickly followed with a smiley face emoji.

I smiled broadly at my phone, aware of the lunacy of grinning at an inanimate object. I then checked the doors, turned out the lights, changed into my pyjama shorts and top, brushed my teeth and slipped into bed.

The sheets were cool against my bare legs. On nights like this, when it was crisp but not quite cold enough to use the flannel sheets or my winter pyjamas, I had to admit it might be nice to climb into the bed with someone else. It also might have been nice to have someone to debrief with about what a big week it had been.

The next morning, I set off for work ten minutes ahead of schedule. I planned to call Gran from the road and wanted to allow for extra time to hear how it had gone with Gerry.

I was enjoying the modern conveniences of my new car. Beyond being able to get in and out without performing a yoga manoeuvre, I was enjoying the radio that played AM and FM, the connectivity with my phone, and the ease of opening and closing the windows with the touch of a button.

‘Hello, darling.’ Gran’s voice filled the space of my new car via bluetooth.

‘Sooooooo?’ I wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘How did it go?’

‘Oh, love,’ she sighed euphorically. ‘It was wonderful. We spoke for hours and hours. And I’m sure we could have spoken for many more.’

‘You do have sixty years to catch up on.’

‘Indeed,’ she chuckled.

‘Has she changed much?’

‘Yes and no,’ Gran replied thoughtfully. ‘It sounds cliché, but it feels like no time has passed, and yet like I’m getting to know someone for the first time. She still has a lightning-quick wit, and she’s incredibly clever and accomplished, so nothing’s changed there. But her rosy view of the world has tarnished. She carries scars from navigating a world that hasn’t always been willing to accept her.’

Gran paused before continuing in a more upbeat tone. ‘But she’s fit and healthy, and she’s led a full and rewarding life, which is all any of us can ask for.’

‘Did you find out what happened to her after she returned to the UK?’ I asked.

‘No. I didn’t want to get into it when there was so much else to catch up on,’ she said. ‘It didn’t feel like the right time. And I’m still not really sure I want to know.’

Gran explained that Gerry had become the eminent authority on English vascular plants and had enjoyed a long and illustrious career with the University of New London. Her work with plant fossils had been revolutionary and had earned her widespread accolades.

Gerry told Gran that as well as providing her with immense personal satisfaction, her career had also offered a socially acceptable justification for why she hadn’t married or had children. Her unwavering dedication to her work was more readily accepted than her sexual preference for women, apparently. She also shared that she had enjoyed love in her life, including for many years with an internationally known thespian whose name Gran was ‘not at liberty to share’.

‘We’ve got a date to speak again tonight, too,’ Gran finished as I pulled into my office’s car park.

‘Wow!’

I shut off the engine, gathered my things and began the walk to my office.

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