Page 32 of Second Act at Appleton Green
You’ve always been a girl who knows what she wants, even at ten years old. I saw it this summer in the way you worked on our baking projects – you were so set on making each dish perfectly. You give careful thought to everything you do, which is great, but I hope you won’t be too hard on yourself. The most important thing is to enjoy the process, whether you’re singing a song or making apple tarts.
Hasn’t this summer taught you a lot about being creative? We had a lot of fun coming up with new ways to use the apples and making up songs while we worked together in the kitchen.
Even though you’re not here anymore and the cottage is a little quieter, I can still hear your laughing and singing, and I know you’ll be back here again soon.
One more thing, people may start to notice your voice as you get older and tell you all sorts of things about what you should do with it. But remember this, my love: you can use your voice however you want. Let it fly if it makes you happy. You can put it down if it feels like too much. Do what makes you happy and stay true to who you are.
With all my love,
Gran
14
The next morning Lily stood in front of the slim, old-fashioned pantry next to the refrigerator, her hand hanging over the doorknob. She had opened Gran’s door so she could hear her get up and now she could hear Gran’s soft snores floating down the stairs. Gran had fought her tooth and nail to not have the nap, but Lily told her it wasn’t to be argued with and she knew Gran needed it. She had stayed up too late the night before and was very tired today.
She drew a deep breath, as if about to open Pandora’s box, and pulled the door open. She knew there was a muddle of things in the pantry but this was something else.
‘Oh, good Lord,’ Lily mumbled, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her.
The shelves were a genuine museum of past culinary eras. She reached for a tin of baking powder, glancing at the expiration date: ‘2010? I was still in secondary school,’ she said to herself as she shook the tin, half expecting to hear the fossilised remnants of what was once baking powder.
Feeling more confident, Lily began her archaeological search through Gran’s cupboard. She brought out a pickle jar with a faded label that resembled a Cold War relic. ‘Best before July 1985,’ she said loudly, repressing a giggle. ‘These pickles are older than me. They could go on Antiques Roadshow!’
She then spotted a packet of jelly, the brilliant red colour having faded to a mournful pink. ‘Oh, Gran,’ Lily groaned and turned the packet over. ‘Win a trip to the 2000 Olympics! I believe we missed that boat by around two decades.’
A tin of condensed milk attracted her attention, concealed beneath a jungle of antique spice jars. Lily delicately withdrew it, as if it were a fragile artefact. The expiry date had long passed, yet the price sticker proudly read ‘75p’ in fading lettering.
As Lily dug deeper, she discovered a packet of crackers so old that the cellophane had turned yellow. She probed it cautiously, half expecting it to collapse to dust with her touch.
This was ridiculous. She picked up her phone and walked outside.
‘Dad? Hi.’
‘Hello, love, how’s Mum?’
‘She’s okay but honestly, Dad, did you and Mum see the state of her pantry when you were at the cottage?’
‘Do you think she would let me look in her pantry? It was enough she even let us through the door,’ he scoffed. ‘You know how independent she is.’
‘I do but it’s terrible. I need to go to town and do a proper shop for her, some meal planning, I mean, she’s got things in that pantry from 1985.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ her father said. ‘Do a clean-out and I’ll transfer you some money; get anything else she might need also.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said and she walked back into the kitchen where the mess of jars and packets were on the benches.
She started to place the items into rubbish bags and went back into the pantry for another look.
Finally, at the back of the top shelf, Lily curled her palm around a small, enigmatic tin. She pulled it out, brushing away a layer of dust thick enough to write on. Her eyes widened when she read the label.
‘Spam? Is this actual Spam?’ She turned the tin over in her hands, admiring it as if it were the holy grail of expired food. ‘I thought this only existed in Monty Python sketches and wartime stories!’
Just then, she heard movement upstairs. Gran was awake. Lily quickly threw all the bags into the pantry, resulting in a dangerously balanced stack of ancient groceries. As she heard Gran’s slippered feet on the stairs, she hastily shut the pantry door, leaning against it and pretending to be innocent.
Gran entered the kitchen, looking at Lily suspiciously. ‘What are you up to, dear?’
Lily smiled. ‘Oh, nothing, Gran. I thought I’d do some baking. But, yeah, I guess we might need to go shopping first.’
Gran nodded in approval. ‘A good idea. While we’re there, remind me to get some more pickles. I believe we might be running low.’
