Page 8 of Knights Game

I hoped that maybe I would see some of the old Grandad again.

Dementia was a bitch.

A few years after my parents died, I put him in this home. I knew it was something they had researched, and they had liked it. It had good weekly activities, a community.

“Maybe we can go next week when Sarah comes in?” He looks at me, hopeful again, and I nod.

“Next week sounds good.”

“Look at that bird sitting there.” He glances sideways, reaching out and holding my hand. “I remember when Eddie and I were in Germany. Did I tell you about Eddie?”

“No.” I lean closer. Of course, he had told me about Eddie, but I could listen to his stories all day.

“Oh, Eddie, he makes me laugh. Even now.”

Eddie has been dead for over thirty years.

“We used to be thick as thieves. I was the lookout while he broke into the safes.” His shoulders shake as he laughs. “Oh, man.”

I pass him his water, and he takes a sip. He’s come alive. He doesn’t remember what he had for breakfast, but he remembers a story from sixty years ago like it happened yesterday.

For over an hour I listen as he moves from one story to another, we eat his wine gums, and he asks me who I am only once more.

It’s been a good visit today, and my heart is full of love.

“So, you will be back Tuesday then?”

I lean down and kiss his cheek. “You better believe it, Grandad.”

“And you will bring me some more wine gums?”

I smile at him and check his water. “Of course. Do you need anything?”

“Can you turn the TV on?”

I pick up the remote and press On. I navigate to an app and pull up his show of choice,Dad's Army, the theme music filling the room.

“Thank you. I’ll see you Tuesday then, Sarah.”

“It’s Layla, Grandad, and yes, I’ll see you on Tuesday. I love you, be good.”

“I’m always good.” He grins, waving goodbye, and I pull his door shut behind me.

I stifle a yawn, turn the key and watch the metal shutter come down over the main entrance to the local health centre. The last doctor left ten minutes ago, leaving me to tidy up the reception area before locking up. I’d spent five years getting my undergraduate medical degree, but after grandad went to the care home the bills started ramping up and I’d had to give up my dream to become a doctor. So instead, I work in administration at the local doctor’s surgery, not exactly my dream but with this job and the café I make do.

Just.

The door grinds metal against metal on its runner in the otherwise quiet night. The evenings were supposed to be getting warmer with spring round the corner, but tonight’s wind crept in between the gaps of my jacket, touching my flesh and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

I hate the long winter nights, but with spring also comes the sadness, as the anniversary of the car crash that killed my parents’ creeps ever closer. I can already feel my mood turning sour.

Sighing, I remove the key, bending down and checking that the shutter is fully secured. Pulling my coat tighter and grabbing my phone from my bag, I send Katy a quick message to say that I was on my way home.

She doesn’t like me walking back but it isn’t exactly through dark and dangerous alleyways, it’s a ten-minute walk with most of it on the High Street, which has plenty of people.

Even in the depths of winter, I enjoy the walk; it allows me to clear my head, which tonight swims with all things financial.

Katy is right, I am barely living; my dreams are on hold. But we all make sacrifices, right? It’s what we do for the ones we love.

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