Microcosms is a regular Friday prompt; this week the three were:
Guesthouse, grandson, memoir
Adele pulled the curtains. ‘Morning colonel. Lovely day for a walk?’ She moved quickly to the bed, straightening the sheets. He didn’t like his bed to remain unmade. ‘I’ll have your eggs ready soon. Just need to find Mrs Fishwick’s teeth. Again.’
Adele liked the colonel. Never said much first thing. Unlike Mrs Fishwick who did nothing but moan. She paused, pulling back her shoulders before knocking. ‘Morning Mrs F. Where did you have the little terrors last?’ A bony finger pointed at the side of the bed. Adele rummaged in the gap. ‘Here you go. Just pop them in and I’ll have poached eggs ready in ten minutes.’ She stood back admiring Mrs Fishwick’s approximation of a grin. ‘Lovely.’
Downstairs, Adele steadied herself. Her grandson’s room was by the kitchen, making it easier to help him. She needed all her strength. Even after ten years, entering his room and seeing again the disfigurement from the crash took her breath. ‘Morning Charles. Sunny today. The colonel is off on a walk. Maybe you’d like to sit outside for a bit.’ He never talked much, not first thing. Typical teenager. ‘Your mum was the same. She…’ Adele couldn’t continue. Thinking about Susan, burnt in the crash that injured Charles, was still too painful.
She sat in the kitchen, remembering the day they’d brought the boy back. Lifeless he was. She made him comfortable and closed the front door. Everything stopped that day. Not that the colonel and Mrs Fishwick understood. They still expected her to make his bed and find her teeth. That’s all she did now. Made the bed and found the teeth and made Charles comfortable. It was enough.