Dear Diary,
Mother slipped a letter into the kitchen drawer while she was chopping carrots for dinner. Whats that youre hiding, Mum? I asked. She waved it away. Its from the village, from Granddad, she said, not looking up. I stared. Granddad? Youve never mentioned anyone on your side of the family. She paused, then hurried on with the vegetables. Yeswell, I left home years ago, didnt need anyone then. Now Im supposed to drop everything and rush to his aid. Tears welled in her eyes and I didnt know what to say. In our family we never talked about her relatives. All I knew was that Mum had moved to the city straight after school, lived in a dorm, worked and studied, and that I was born there after Dad abandoned us before I was even a baby. Mum still held a grudge against the people she left behind, and I had never asked why.
That night, when Mum finally fell asleep, I slipped into her room, took the envelope and unfolded the neat, elegant scriptcertainly not the shaky hand of an old, sick man. The letter said Granddad Arthur had collapsed, needed constant care and expensive medicines. It begged Mum to set aside old hurts and pride because a life was at stake. No signature, just an address. The hamlet was a few miles from our town of Ashford, near the cottage my school friend Emilys family keeps. A cold shiver ran down my spine; Id often visited Emily, and the old cottage sat just past the churchyard, the same place Arthur lived. How could Mum have hidden this from us?
The next morning I packed my bag for university, slipped a few pounds and some spare clothes into my satchel, and headed for the coach station. Stepping off the coach, I breathed in the crisp, clean air of the countrysideclear as a tear. The dilapidated cottage was only a short walk from the stop. I pushed open the rusted gate and entered the courtyard.
Who are you looking for? a voice called from beneath an apple tree. A woman in her forties, bent over a basket of freshly picked mushrooms, turned. Im looking for Arthur James, my grandfather. She smiled. Ah, you must be Shuras daughter. She brushed a stray lock of black hairso dark it seemed sootand invited me inside. Come in, Ill put the kettle on. Granddad fell asleep after lunch and feels a little better now.
The cottage smelled of fresh scones and homemade jam. While the woman, Sophie, was at the stove, I glanced at a faded photograph on the walltwo smiling adults with two little girls who looked almost identical. Sophie caught my eye. Thats usyour mother, my sister and our parents. Im Sophie, her sister, your aunt. She laughed softly. Nice to meet you. Why havent you ever heard of us? Mother always insisted we had no family.
She sighed, poured tea into delicate cups, and began to speak. Your mother has always been angry with us. I was born frail, spent many months in hospitals; Mum never left my side. Father worked day and night to keep us fed and to pay for treatment. Shura first lived with Grandmother, then often stayed with a neighbour when Dad was away. All the attention went to me. From a young age she told herself nobody loved her, that she was useless, even when things seemed to improve. After she got her Alevels she moved to London, and we never saw her again.
Sophie set a cup before me. You must be hungry after the journey. Two little onesEllie and Leoare with me now. Folks keep asking if we have any kin, theyll be thrilled to hear youre here. That evening I met Granddad Arthur and my cousins, and everyone welcomed me with open arms. For the first time I truly understood what it meant to belong to a big, closeknit family gathered around one table. I stayed a few days, bought the medicines he needed, and felt a warmth I had never known.
Mum called several times, demanding I return immediately, but I couldnt abandon Granddad, and Aunt Sophie was juggling work and caring for him. If you dont send money, how will you fund your studies? Mum shouted into the phone. I gave you everythingnights without sleep, raised youwhere are you now? With people who havent lifted a finger for us. I tried to explain, Mum, you havent given us an address in fifteen years Hes my grandfather, first and foremost. He needs care, not resentment. If you wont come, Ill stay with him. By the way, you have a wonderful sister and lovely nieces. Dont be so hard on yourself. The conversation ended in tears, hung up, redialed, but it led nowhere.
A week later I returned to Ashford to finish my final year. My heart was torn. The few pounds I earned from hanging flyers and a few hours of tutoring each week barely covered the cost of sending a few pounds each month to the cottagehardly enough for the medicines. My relationship with Mum felt like a stretched violin string; she even hid my passport so I couldnt travel to the village for the holidays. The year passed in a blur of exams, arguments, and endless stress.
When I finally held my degree, I packed my things and left for the cottage. Aunt Sophie arranged a teaching post for me at the local primary school, and life settled into a gentle rhythm. Granddad Arthur began to regain his strength, taking short walks in the garden, though his eyes stayed sad, always waiting for his daughter.
September arrived with the bustle of new term. I loved the little firstgraders so much that I rushed to school each morning like it was a celebration. I also noticed that Mr. Alex Turner, the history teacher and a recent graduate from the city university, seemed to take a liking to me. He, too, had ended up in the village, contrary to his own belief that everyone fled to the city.
Aunt Sophie, dont count Alex out, she would whisper, hes a good lad, built his own house, but he stayed because his mother passed away. Hes an orphan, living alone. Soon Alex asked me out, and our romance blossomed. Granddad gave his blessing, and when Leo proposed, he too welcomed us.
Our wedding was set for the end of April. I wrote to Mum, telling her of the plans, but received no reply. It hurt that she wouldnt be there on such an important day. The night before the ceremony, while Aunt Sophie and my two friends were fussing in the kitchen, a soft knock came at the door. I opened it to find Mum standing there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Im only here a moment, just to congratulate you she stammered. I invited her in, though she hesitated at the threshold. Sophie rushed from the kitchen, and Granddad emerged, embracing his daughter. They stood together, wiping each others tears, whispering softly.
Now, years later, I live in the village with a big, loving family. Children grow up around me, I still teach the younger classes, and most importantly, I have finally found the relatives my mother once called strangers. Mum never left; she eventually reconciled with my fathers side of the family, and the past remains where it belongs.
Eleanor.
