Grandma Butterfly

One thing was certain – my grandmother was extraordinary ‘I’ve always thought forests were

full of veiled, rustling magic’

Iremember that day so well. It was the first of many wonderful adventures I had with my remarkable grandmother, though it certainly didn’t start out that way. When she opened the door of the red brick and rambling rose family home to see me and my mother on the step, Grandma Emily’s face was set in rigid lines.

‘Sorry for the short notice,’ Mum said hastily before Grandma could speak. ‘But I’ve been called into the office last minute and I promised Alex you’d take her down to Earls Wood today. She has a nature project to finish before the holidays end.’

Grandma Emily hovered in the doorway.

‘But I have plans,’ she protested weakly.

‘Oh, Mum! Mooching around indoors isn’t a plan. Besides, it’ll be nice for you to spend some time with your granddaughter, just the two of you.’

‘Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to, Miss? I’ve told you before, I…’ Grandma Emily stopped scolding as her gaze strayed to me, looking between the two women with my eyes screwed up in confusion. She sighed, then held out her hand.

‘That’s an extremely bright rucksack, Alex! Does it light your way at night?’

With a grin I shook my head and, taking her outstretched hand for permission to enter, slid past her into the hallway to peer up the stairwell, where countless clothing items and discarded toys had once lain.

‘Is Tootles here?’ I demanded, barely remembering to say goodbye to Mum as I went in search of the fluffy-tailed cat I loved to cuddle. I’d just found him when I heard the front door close, then Grandma’s heavy tread on the stairs. She hadn’t used to walk like that; it was only since Grandad had died. And only since then that we hadn’t been here at the old family home as often and Grandma Emily had stopped visiting and baking us loads of sweet treats. I’d heard Mum talking to Dad about it, and Dad telling her to let Emily alone, to give her time to grieve. Mum had started crying then and Dad switched into comfort mode. I’d had to ask my teacher to explain the word she’d used and had an image ever since of poor Grandma locked away in an unfurnished hut somewhere, lonely and wild.

The woman who now came to lean in the doorway looked nothing like a ‘hermit’; she was her usual pleasant self, except for a lost, faraway look in her eyes.

‘Well, Alex, now that you’re here, what would you like to do? Did you really want to go down to Earls Wood for a nature project, or was that just your mother’s excuse for you to visit?’ I shrugged.

‘Don’t mind.’

Grandma sighed.

‘I forget exactly what it’s like to be 10 years old, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have wasted a fine day like this lounging indoors. Come on, let’s take that neon rucksack for a walk, eh, and see what we can find going on outside.’

At first, wandering along the woodland’s well-worn paths, I wished I was anywhere else. My initial hope that this was an enchanted wood and, like the children from Enid Blyton’s tales, I’d find a faraway tree with fantastical residents in it soon faded. Grandma’s strange mood was making me uncomfortable. Finally, I asked her, ‘What is it, Grandma? Do you not like being in the woods?’ She started, then sighed. ‘I used to love them when I was your age and later with… with your Grandpa. I’ve always thought forests were full of veiled, rustling magic.’

‘Me too!’ I cried, surprised and pleased to find our minds so in tune.

She began to look around her then, pointing out ancient faces in the twisty tree trunks and the secret paths of pixies. Laughing, I took her hand and followed her lead, into a magical land.

After lunch, she produced an old shoebox and, punching holes in it, announced, ‘I’ve an idea for your nature project. Create a moving rainbow! I used to do it every summer, years ago.’

I followed her eagerly back outside to the hill overlooking meadows and farmers’ fields. There we got hot and sweaty chasing butterflies. Whenever we caught one, we’d freeze, holding them very carefully in cupped hands, then, even more carefully, slip them into the box. Grandma’s hair had worked itself loose from its bun and was streaming across her shoulders as, laughing, she set off after another beautiful butterfly, dancing through the wild flowers just as they danced on the air.

When we had about half a dozen or so, she sank to the ground before the shoebox and waved me over.

I flopped beside her, declaring,

‘That was fun!’

‘The best is yet to come,’ Grandma said, her face aglow. And with a soft, ‘Are you ready?’ she drew the lid off the shoebox.

At once, the butterflies emerged, lifting into the air in a rush of rainbow colours and iridescent wings, a fleeting upward beauty that we watched wide-eyed. I felt a sense of release, of wondrous freedom, and glancing across at Grandma, knew she felt it too. She waited until the butterflies had flown away before she turned to me.

‘Wasn’t that beautiful?’

She whispered.

I nodded.

‘As are you,’ I said.

And suddenly, I was in her arms, and we were crying and laughing together.

Mum was thrilled when Grandma asked to have me again and that was the start of our weekly adventures.

For the next visit, I came prepared.

‘So, Alex, what do you want to do today?’ Grandma asked.

I brought my new net from behind my back.

‘Create another rainbow, Grandma Butterfly.’

‘Grandma Butterfly – I like that,’ she said. I’ll go and get my boots…’

THE END ©

Hayley JohnsonMack, 2018