The Gown(10)

The hall was a small space, hemmed in by two doors: one to her little apartment upstairs, and the other to the main-floor apartment where Sunita and Michelle lived. The house had been divided up when her friends had first bought it, and one day they would likely want the top floor back, but for now they were happy to rent it to her for almost nothing.

“Sunita?” she called out. “Michelle?”

“Suni’s out,” came a voice from the back. “You’re stuck with me. What’s up?”

“I got a call from my mom when I was at the store.”

“And what’s up with Liz and Jim this week? Are they going on another trip?”

“No. It’s Nan. She called about Nan.”

“Is she all right? Did she have another fall?”

One deep breath. Another. “No,” Heather heard herself say. “No. She died. She’s dead.”

There was a metallic clatter, as if something had been dumped in the sink, then footsteps hastening to the front. An instant later, she was enveloped in a warm, vanilla-scented embrace. Of course. It was Saturday morning, so Michelle was baking.

“Oh, sweetie, no. Oh, that’s just awful news. Come into the kitchen. You need a cup of tea.”

“Y-you sound like Nan,” was all Heather could manage, and then she was blinded by another rush of tears.

She sat there and let Michelle peel off her coat and unlace her boots, and then, with only a little urging, lead her to the kitchen.

“Sit down. I’ll get the kettle going. Do you want a muffin?”

“No, thanks. I don’t think I can eat anything just yet.” She rested her head on the kitchen table, its vintage Formica wonderfully cool against her brow. “Where’s Sunita?” she asked without looking up.

“She went for a run in High Park. Should be back any minute.”

“I left all my groceries at the store. I couldn’t think straight, so Mom talked me through it. I said I’d send someone back for them.”

“I’ll go. Or Suni when she gets home.”

Heather closed her eyes and tried not to think, not about anything at all. The kettle began to whistle, and Michelle busied herself with fixing up the teapot just so. She was always so particular about tea.

“Sit up, now. Here it is. I made it with lemon and honey. Just how Nan used to fix it for you.”

Heather straightened herself. Let the homely pottery mug warm her hands. “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

“Did your mom say what happened?”

“It wasn’t anything dramatic. Just a cold that turned into something worse. And I know she was almost ninety-four, and people don’t live forever. Except she was the sort of person who seemed like she might live forever.”

“I know what you mean. All those people who lived through the war. You’d think they were made out of cast iron.”

The oven timer sounded. Michelle switched it off, pulled out a tray of muffins, and set them on a nearby cooling rack. “Okay. That’s the last batch. I’ll head to the store now. The Loblaw’s on Dundas?”

“Yeah. Thanks so much. Oh—do you want my debit card?”

“I’m good. We can sort it out later. You just stay here and drink your tea. And I’ll call Suni and tell her. That way you won’t have to explain all over again.”

The front door shut behind her friend, and Heather was alone in the house. She should go upstairs to her own apartment, call her mother, lie down for a while. Let Seymour curl up beside her and soothe her to sleep with his purr. But inertia bound her to the kitchen, to the hard wooden chair, to the scents of citrus and spice that perfumed the air.

It had been two weeks since she’d last gone to visit Nan. She’d meant to go the other weekend, but she’d been getting over a cold herself and hadn’t wanted to pass on her germs, and she’d been so tired, besides, that she’d barely made it out of bed all day Sunday.

Two weeks ago she’d gone to visit Nan and they’d had tea and some scones from the Scottish bakery that her grandmother loved, and they’d talked about the queen’s ninetieth birthday and the fuss people were making over it. Then the phone had started ringing, and it had been Nan’s friend Margie giving her the ten-minute warning for tai chi class in the recreation room.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Nan had said. “I feel as if you only just got here.”

“I’ve been here for ages. It’s only that we’ve been having such a good time. How about I call you in a few days?”

She’d given her grandmother a big hug, and even though Nan wasn’t a demonstrative person she had hugged Heather in return. She always hugged her back. Heather had walked down the hall, and Nan had waited outside her door as she always did, just until the elevator came and Heather could blow her a kiss.

She had got on the elevator and blown a kiss to Nan, and then the doors had shut and Heather had filled the rest of her Sunday with errands that had already vanished from her memory. She had said good-bye to her Nan, without really knowing what she was doing, for there was so much to tell her, still, and now she would never get the chance.

She had never once imagined it would be good-bye.





Chapter Four


Ann


March 10, 1947

Ann was already awake when her alarm went off at six o’clock. She nearly always opened her eyes a few minutes before it began to trill. Before she could think twice, she threw back the mountain of blankets and sat up, swinging her feet over the side of the bed. Only then did she reach out to silence the bell.