Playing Leapfrog

An auntie steps up in this poignant short story by Eirin Thompson.

When it came to real life, winning the game was easier said than done . . .

IAM absolutely convinced that Joanne hung on so that she could see the baby. Joanne had her diagnosis even before her daughter, Emma, was pregnant.

“At least I got to know that I’m a granny, even if the baby isn’t here yet,” she said, as if this was the best news ever. As if her illness was nothing.

But just knowing that the baby was coming would never be enough for her.

She didn’t say it, but I knew she was determined to see her grandchild.

She succeeded, of course. Emma was taken by wheelchair straight from the delivery suite to her mum’s ward.

It was unusual, but the doctors and nurses understood.

Sandy, Emma’s

Australian husband, laid Calla on the bed beside her granny and Joanne just managed to smile and whisper, “Hello, you.”

Emma brought Calla to visit her mum for each of the next three days, but Joanne, my little sister, didn’t open her eyes again.

As I had promised, I handled all the funeral arrangements.

Emma wasn’t in any fit state to do it, recovering from the birth and trying to look after a newborn baby.

Michael, Joanne’s son, was in pieces.

“Thanks so much, Louise,” Emma said. “With Calla arriving and losing Mum at the same time, my head’s all over the place.

“I don’t know how we’d have coped without you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m here for you,” I assured her.

Joanne and I had been very different sorts of people, although we’d always got along.

When we were little kids, she’d dreamed of being a home-maker, mothering her baby dolls and seeking out the youngest children in our neighbourhood to fuss over.

Meanwhile, I had my nose stuck in a book or went zooming around the place on my skateboard.

So it was no surprise to anyone when I went off to university and then singlemindedly pursued a career in London, or when Joanne married Ivan before she was twenty and became a mum within a year.

“I love my life,” she told me when I came back on holiday, and it was obvious she was telling the truth.

Although I couldn’t have lived with toys everywhere and the baby-clothes drying on the fireguard, Joanne’s home was full of love and warmth.

The kitchen was her hub and she was always cooking up something delicious in there – a floury batch of scones or a juicy casserole. Nobody ever went hungry at Joanne’s.

The children – Emma and Michael – clearly thrived.

“Every time I see you, you’ve grown!” I’d exclaim.

When they were very young, they’d swell up with pride at such a remark.

As they grew a little older, they’d laugh and tell me that was a very “auntie” thing to say.

The house was packed with framed photographs of Joanne and Ivan with the kids, eating pizza, going into the theatre to see a pantomime, building sandcastles and playing in the park.

As the years went by and I climbed the career ladder, it grew harder to see them.

I always sent Emma and Michael a generous cheque at Christmas, and they always replied with thankyou letters detailing how they intended to use it.

My relationship with Joanne was never distant, but we certainly didn’t ring each other every week.

Then her letter came. She didn’t want to tell me on the phone.

The doctors said she had a year to live, at best.

I gasped and held the letter away from me, but I couldn’t push away what Joanne was telling me.

The next morning, I called in to work to say I’d be late, then I phoned Joanne to ask if she’d like me to come straight away.

“There’s no mad rush,” she advised me, “but I would like to see you soon. I need to talk to you about Emma and Michael.

“I know they’re not kids any more, but when things get too emotional for them and Ivan, I’d like you to help them.

“You’re always so calm under pressure.”

Joanne had always dealt with the family finances and paperwork.

As much as she loved Ivan, she didn’t think he’d make a great job of dealing with that side of things.

“His brain isn’t wired for it and he’d just end up in a blind panic,” she said with a smile.

“He can service the lawnmower and hang wallpaper like a professional, but forms and figures frighten him!”

So I spent a day with her, going through her files and working out what needed to be attended to.

“You’ve been very prudent with your finances,” I observed.

“That’s quite a bit of insurance coming to Emma and Michael.”

“It’s very gratifying to hear that,” Joanne replied.

“We’ve never been in your league financially, but I was always adamant that we make provision just in case . . .”

I stayed for a month, until Joanne had had her surgery and started to make a good recovery.

I was still with her and Ivan when Emma broke the news about her pregnancy.

Joanne was over the moon.

“We’ll buy you your pram, of course. Just pick out the one you want.

“Now, you have to look after yourself, Emma. You need to get plenty of rest.

“Sandy, you have to make sure she eats enough for two.”

“Don’t go overboard!” Emma replied. “Women have babies every day.”

“But they’re not all my grandchild,” Joanne insisted.

Oh, how we all wished that Joanne would get to see the little thing.

After a month, I had to return to London to check up on things at the office.

But I promised Joanne I would see her again soon.

I’d always been so involved in my work, but now, for the first time, I found I’d lost my passion.

I spoke to a friend in HR, who told me not to worry.

“You’re bound to have a change of perspective right now.

“Try not to fret about work. Your team will support you and your boss understands.”

My boss understood? I was glad someone did.

I couldn’t comprehend why someone with so much to live for, like Joanne, could be taken so young.

To my surprise, Joanne decided to stay with me in London for a while.

“But what about your treatment?” I asked.

“I’m meant to come off it for two weeks,” she explained.

“I thought I’d spend a few days with you, seeing the sights.”

Joanne and Ivan always took holidays by the sea. They’d never “done” London.

I took her to the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and the Cenotaph.

We strolled up the Mall, visited Trafalgar Square and Oxford Street, then took afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason.

“Are you sure I’m not tiring you out?” I enquired, although we’d made good use of the London cabs.

“Not a bit,” Joanne replied. “There’s so much to see.”

We went on a small shopping spree in Hamleys.

Joanne was determined that she was buying her grandchild its first teddy bear, but ended up with a cuddly chimp and a panda as well.

“I wonder if it’ll be a girl or a boy,” she mused.

This got me thinking, and I rang Emma to see if she would consider finding out.

“I’m ahead of you,” she replied. “As soon as we know, Mum’ll know, too.”

Emma was happy for me to share this information with Joanne, who was overjoyed.

On her last night with me in London, Joanne told me she had one more thing she wanted to say to me.

“Sure,” I told her. “Fire away.”

“With Sandy’s parents in Australia, and my situation, Emma’s baby isn’t going to have a granny. That makes me so sad.

“I know it’s a huge ask, but would you be willing to step in and be a sort of granny, Louise?”

Joanne’s request made me shiver. What did I know about being a granny?

I’d never raised a child, never cooked for one or fed one.

I’d managed to reach the age of fifty-five without once changing a nappy!

“I’m not asking you to change your arrangements, obviously. You live in London, and have your job.

“I just mean to spend time with them, when you can.

“Let Emma and Sandy have some time on their own, read to the baby, play peekaboo and take them for little walks.

“Do the things I’d want to do – the things a granny would do.”

“I don’t know what to say, Joanne. Of course I’ll keep popping over to see Emma and the baby – and Michael, of course.

“But trying to be a kind of granny – I’m not sure. I’m not warm and soft like you. I’m sharp and pointy.” Joanne laughed at that. “You’re not sharp, Lou! You’re lovely and you’ll make a fantastic granny, I just know it.”

“That’s easy for you to say – you’ve been a mum, twice over! I haven’t.”

“Well, you’ll just have to leapfrog a generation!” she teased.

She didn’t push me any further, but the seed had been planted.

****

Ivan is lying on the beach with a towel over his eyes. Beside him, reading a magazine, is Bella, his new partner.

They met at the group for bereaved spouses I finally pushed him into trying.

Neither of them wanted to be there; neither of them ever thought they’d be widowed, until it happened.

“I can’t pretend that I don’t still love Joanne,”

Ivan told me recently. “But it doesn’t stop us being good for each other.”

They go to the cinema, the theatre and out for dinner, and Bella sometimes stays over.

Michael and Emma

What did I know about being a granny?

laughed at Ivan’s attempts to hide this last detail. Emma and Sandy have Calla, aged nine, Milo, who is seven, and Dolly, five.

Michael and his wife, Roisin, have six-year-old twins, Rufus and Toby.

“Granny, come and play with us!” Milo shouts from down on the wet sand. “We’re playing leapfrog!”

“I’m coming!” I shout, and thank my years of yoga for being able to spring up and run over to join them.

I tried being a part-time granny, but it wasn’t for me.

I’ve always been an all-or-nothing type, whether devouring a book or pursuing my career.

And so it was with Calla. Loving her long-distance from London just didn’t cut it, so I came back and set myself up as a consultant, working from home.

The more “grandchildren” Emma and Michael provided, the more I cut back on my work to spend time with them.

I love every minute. I also make sure they know all about their first granny, Joanne.

“Granny! This is how you do it.” Rufus demonstrates. “Bend over from your waist and put your hands on your legs, like this.”

“I know how to play leapfrog!” I protest.

And I do.

The End.