Writing for Fun
March 2016
Rock Bottom - Jeanette Rothwell
He sat there on the hard wooden chair, dejected and vulnerable. 'The truth is, I'm flat broke,' he said in despair.
Clare looked around the living room which, in her Grandmother's time, used to be warm, colourful and cosy. Now she had gone, the room was bare except for a table, one armchair, threadbare curtains, rectangular shapes on the walls where landscape pictures had once hung, two hard chairs, one occupied by her unhappy grandfather, and a mantelpiece which had once been crowded with family photos, now only held her grandparents wedding photo, not even in a frame but propped up against the wall.
'Granddad, whatever has happened?' she asked anxiously.
He explained in a monotonous tone that once her Grandmother had died, he had lost interest in his little business, carving souvenirs for the tourists, and in order to make ends meet, he had sold everything he could get money for.
'I'm at rock bottom,' he went on, 'there's nothing left to sell, except this house, and then where will I live? I only have my pathetic pension to live on.'
Clare had been away for three years, travelling for her holiday company and as her Grandfather had never owned a mobile phone, and she had not been able to get an answer when she rang his land-line (realising now that he had been cut off) the odd postcard had been her only means of contacting him. She moved around too much to be able to give him an address to write to, so here she was having just arrived back in England.
She was appalled to see now far her Grandfather had fallen. She was in Somerset but her parents lived in London, and had not spoken to her Grandfather for a long time due to a long forgotten family argument. She was immediately determined to let them know the situation. Porlock, in Somerset, the little village where her Grandfather lived, was a quaint little place with thatched cottages, tea rooms, a village hall and a very good community spirit. Clare wondered why nobody had seen that he was in need of some attention and encouragement, but further conversation with him revealed that he had rather cut himself off from his neighbours, refusing any offers of friendship and assistance. His depression following his wife's death had really left him listless and lost.
She left him for a while and booked into a nearby B & B. Then found a take-away restaurant and brought back a hot meal, which they shared. When she had settled into her tiny room at the B & B, using her mobile phone she appraised her parents of the situation. Initially, they were inclined to be unsympathetic, but Clare emphasised her Grandfather's depression and they began to show concern, the long ago family dispute almost forgotten.
How could they rescue him from this situation and pull him out of his grief? It had been two and a half years since his wife died and they felt he should be lifting himself out of this valley of despair and getting back to his old self again. What could they do?
She ventured out into the unkempt garden and noticed that the next door neighbour was sitting in a deck chair, taking in the sun.
'Yoo, hoo,' the neighbour called. An elderly lady stood up from her deck chair, with difficulty. 'Are you related to the old codger?' she enquired.
Presuming that she was referring to her Grandfather, Clare explained that she was his Granddaughter.
'Well, I hope you can talk some sense into him. We have all tried to help him but he won't listen and just goes on rattling about that house. It's as if he is trying to punish himself for his wife's death. She had a stroke. There was nothing he could have done.'
'I know,' agreed Clare 'But what can we do?'
'Well, he used to do some lovely little carvings of wooden animals and the local souvenir shop was always willing to sell them for him, but he seems to have stopped doing them.'
'Yes, I can remember he made me a little mouse wearing a top hat when I was a girl. I kept it for ages but lost it on my travels.'
Clare persuaded her parents to send a little money and that plus the bonus she had received from her company went towards carrying out a little refurbishment of her Grandfather's cottage. Enough to make him comfortable again. She even found herself buying back some of his old furniture which was still for sale in the local second hand furniture shop.
She had a fortnight's holiday and she spent it entirely on her Grandfather's well-being. She suggested they spend a day in the nearby seaside resort of Minehead, and after treating her Grandfather to a fish and chip lunch they wandered along the shops. He even consented to have a photo taken of them on the beach eating candy floss. He popped into some of the souvenir shops and couldn't help exclaiming at the high prices and poor quality of some of the crafts on sale.
When they got back to the cottage, he wandered down the garden to his little workshop which was a rather ancient shed containing all his carving tools and lots of lumps of wood. She carefully said nothing and slowly watched how he kept going back to the shed in the next few days. He then disappeared one afternoon carrying a heavy looking shopping bag. On his return, there was a definite spring in his step and it seemed that he had done a deal with the local souvenir shop owner who had agreed to take his clever carvings.
By the time Clare had to return to work, she left with a lighter heart knowing that her Grandfather was slowly pulling himself together, working again, and in a relatively comfortable environment. He had also begun to talk to the neighbours and had attended a couple of coffee mornings with fellow retired residents.
During her travels for her company, she was on a Greek Island, and that night, after packing to leave the island by ferry the next day, she settled down for the night, quickly falling asleep after a very busy day. She dreamed that she was walking along a beach with her Grandfather who kept telling her not to go near the water. He was most insistent. She could see him clearly and wondered why he wouldn't let her go near the rising tide.
At breakfast the following morning, looking but of the window she could see that a storm was brewing and, not being a great sailor, she decided to delay her departure. The storm was accompanied by a howling wind and she later learned that the ferry had sustained a lot of damage and there were some casualties and a fatality. She remembered her dream and wondered at its meaning.
When she eventually reached the mainland she made her weekly call to her parents and was saddened to learn that her beloved Grandfather had passed away peacefully a week ago and that he had left her the cottage in his will.
She wasn't able to return to England for a few more months but when she did, she made her way to Somerset, and, having picked up the keys from the Solicitor, she opened the door of the cottage. She was immediately engulfed with sadness at the loss of her Grandfather.
Wandering through the little rooms she came to the living room. Her eyes immediately went to the mantelpiece where her grandparents' wedding picture stood, now back in a silver frame. By it, in another frame, stood the picture of her grandfather laughingly eating candy floss with her on Minehead beach and in front of it stood a little carved wooden mouse wearing a top hat.