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I don’t know what’s going to happen. But for the first time, I feel a touch of hope as I look up into his beautiful blue eyes.

Chapter Eighteen

Mitch

On Tuesday morning, Vix and I arrive at Wisteria Villas and bump into Blair in the lobby.

“Hello, you two,” she says, eyebrows rising. She’s wearing a suit, and her long dark hair is swept up in a neat roll. “What are you doing here?” she asks Vix.

“I called Grandad and asked if we could all meet,” I reply. “Vix has something she wants to discuss with you both.”

“Ooh, mysterious.”

“Not really,” Vix says with a nervous smile. “I’m thinking of buying the shop.”

Blair’s face lights up. “Seriously? Oh, Vix, that would be amazing.”

She flushes. “Do you think so?”

“Of course. I can’t think of a better person for it to go to. Have you told John yet?”

“No.”

“I’m glad I can be there to see it. Come on.”

Blair leads the way across the lobby.

“We’re not going up to his room?” I ask.

“No, in one of their meeting rooms. They have a bit more space than the care rooms.”

“Do you come here a lot?” I ask.

“Quite a lot, yes. I hold regular appointments, because the funds for retirement can be complicated to sort out, pensions and whatnot, as well as the cost of buying or renting villas or rooms. And they try to encourage residents here to make a will, to make it easier when… you know.” She gives me an apologetic look.

I don’t say anything else as she leads the way down a corridor and opens a door on the right-hand side, but my stomach flips. Grandad obviously realises he won’t be going back to the shop or his flat. He knows he’ll be here until the end, and his stroke must have made him feel that’s not as far away as he thought.

I’m going to have to call my father and ask him to visit sooner rather than later. Not because I’m expecting anything to happen soon, but he needs to be made aware of the seriousness of the situation.

We go into the meeting room and find my grandfather sitting in one of the chairs around the round table, with a blanket over his knees.

“Morning, John!” Blair stoops to kiss his cheek, and then Vix does the same. Finally, while they take their seats, I bend and give him a big hug.

“Morning, boy,” he says, smiling.

“You look well,” Blair says, opening her briefcase and placing a notebook and a manila folder on the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad.” He gestures at the coffee pot on the tray in the centre. “Help yourselves.”

Vix pours us all a coffee while we exchange pleasantries, and Grandad talks about what he’s been up to. “There’s a nurse called Gavin,” he says, “young lad, but nice and quiet. He takes me for a walk around the garden every morning. He knows the names of all the birds. He’s been teaching me a lot.”

Vix and I exchange a smile. He’s freshly shaved and wearing what looks like a new shirt and comfortable trousers. He looks well cared for and bright.

“You like it here?” Blair asks.

“I do,” he says. “I didn’t think I would. All those old fogies talking about their ailments, playing catch the balloon. I thought they’d make me be sociable. But it’s not like that. You can keep to yourself if you want to. But there’s also lots to do. Art classes, cooking classes. Carter holds history lectures here, did you know that?”

My eyebrows rise. “No, I didn’t.”