NB: This is slightly modified from the original suggestion, but the theme remains the same.

THE HOUSE

Although they had been in that room many many times, today seemed different. The radio was quiet, there were no flowers in the window that overlooked the garden and the large stove always providing a welcoming warmth was cold. But more than that, Gramps’s chair was now empty.

Naomi was the first to notice something was missing. “It doesn’t seem right,” she paused “apart from the obvious.”

Abilene reached out to hold her hand. “I know, it all feels odd.”

After Mamma had died from the cancer, Gramps had held on for nearly a decade until the other sister, Ruth, had called around after work and found him ‘asleep’ in his shed. He had been cold to the touch; the doctor said there was nothing to be done and the undertaker took him away before sunset.

It now fell upon all three of the daughters to make the house good before it was reluctantly sold.

The back door creaked open and Ruth struggled in, arms full of cleaning utensils.

“I thought I would make a start in the kitchen.”

The three of them nodded and simultaneously cried. All of the memories, all of the faces, the laughter and the tears came back. There was to be no clearing or cleaning done that day. Instead it was a day for remembering and reminiscing over a strong pot of tea.

“Hang on.”’ Naomi suddenly stood up and looked at the sideboard.

“What?”

“The photo of Mamma and Gramps, it’s gone.” She pointed at a point on the wooden surface which was conspicuously free from dust.

“Which photo was it?” Ruth walked over and checked.

“The one of Gramps in his uniform after the war.”

Together they moved the sideboard away from the wall, revealing nothing more than balls of fluff and a discarded wrapper. A further search of the house revealed other trinkets and other pictures but not the one they were looking for.

Ruth stood in the kitchen and tapped her lips with a finger; they had covered the house and without pulling everything apart it didn’t appear to be there. A knock at the door brought her to her senses.

“It’s the people from the hospice, here to collect the furniture.” called Abline from the hallway. The ladies bagged up as much as they could have while the house was cleared, transferring it all to various cars or over the road to Ruth’s house. By the end of the day most of the furniture was gone, floors vacuumed, mopped and most of the cobwebs removed.

They gave the house a last inspection before locking the door. The house would be on the market the next day and once sold a whole section of their history would at an end. As her sisters pulled away in their vehicles Ruth caught a glint of something in the garden. Next doors cat out for an evening snack maybe? She was tired and without a bother walked home.

At some point during the night Ruth awoke, her dreams had been muddled and were fast fading away but something niggled at the back of her mind. It felt really important, something she had to tell her sisters.

“Shit” she muttered as she reached for her mobile phone and glasses. Next to her, John stirred but didn’t wake. She keyed in her passcode and saw that a message was waiting for her.

“WE DIDN’T DO THE SHED!”

“Exactly” she said and replied in unison.

“Got it!” Abliene grinned and hugged her sister as Naomi walked down the path.

“Have I missed the party?”

“Sort of.” Ruth held out the missing picture.

“Where was it?”

“It was on the potting table. I think he knew it was his time and he wanted to go peacefully in a place he loved.”

“But why this picture?  I would have thought he would have brought the one of their wedding day.”

“So would I.”

Naomi clicked her fingers, “I know, it is because this is Mamma’s favourite picture; she took it on the day they first met.”

“Of course,” Ruth put her hand over her mouth. “She was fresh out of college and had been employed to take pictures for the VE day celebrations.”

“I remember,” Abliene clicked her fingers. “Gramps had been stood up by another woman, so he asked Mamma if she wanted to go in her place.”

The trio stared at the black and white photograph smiling.

“There is just one problem.”

“What?”

“Which one of us gets to keep it?”

As problems went it could have been very long winded, but unanimously the three ladies made the right decision. Gramps would be cremated with the picture in his arms.

© 2021 Andrew Hattam