On The Cover Melting Hearts

For a seven-year-old, lockdown had lasted such a long time, and so much had happened…

Granny,” says my seven-year-old granddaughter, pointing to the red and gold chocolate rabbit sitting on the shelf. “Can I hold it?”

I resist the temptation to suggest she adds the word ”please”. The last 48 hours have been tricky, to put it mildly.

Mollie has been very quiet since arriving. It’s not surprising. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year, thanks to ”the situation”. Before that, she and my daughter were always popping in and out as they only live an hour away. My little granddaughter and I used to be so close. But then everything changed.

“Maybe the two of you need one on one time,” suggested my daughter when life became more normal. “How about a sleepover during the Easter holidays?”

Normally I’d have jumped at this, but after what’s happened, I can’t help feeling apprehensive. “Supposing she’s homesick?” I asked.

“Then Gary or I will pick her up. Honestly, Mum. I think this is important for both of you.”

But when Mollie arrived, she hardly gave me a cuddle. Before, she would have run into my arms, talking nineteen to the dozen. My granddaughter used to be such a little chatterbox!

So, when she asked if she could hold the little chocolate rabbit on the shelf in the sitting room, I was quite relieved.

Now I place it in the palm of her hand. Its shiny wrapping is still perfect. There’s even a little red ribbon round its neck with a small bell.

Her eyes widen.”It’s lovely! Can I eat it now?” she asks.

“I’m afraid it’s out of date.”

That little forehead wrinkles.”What does that mean?”

“The chocolate is too old. I bought it over a year ago when we were going to see each other. But then… then that couldn’t happen. I didn’t want to eat it on my own so I kept it safe.”

There’s more to this than that, but I’m not sure how much detail I should go into. Mollie is grown up for a seven-year-old but there are still some things even adults can’t come to terms with. I know all about that.

“So why don’t you just throw it away if you can’t eat it?”

This is the hard part. Still, at least it’s got my granddaughter talking!

“It’s complicated,” I say. “Let’s put the rabbit back now, shall we, and walk down to the sea.”

Mollie’s eyes light up. This used to be one of our favourite jaunts . “Can we take the rock pool nets?” she asks.

“Yes, of course.”

Rabbit is forgotten as we make our way through my seaside town. But it’s still not right. Mollie used to hold my hand wherever we went. Now she only does so when I take hers as we cross the road. My heart aches. How can my granddaughter have changed so much in just a year?

The tide is out. I stare across the beautiful smooth sand towards the thin blue line of the horizon. The sea is calm today, making lacy patterns of foam. There are even a couple of brave swimmers out there in their wetsuits.

“I’ve learned to swim,” pipes up Mollie. “Have you?”

Why hadn’t my daughter mentioned it? That’s a big deal.

“Daddy taught me when the swimming pool opened again.”

“Clever you. When it’s warmer, we’ll be able to swim together then.”

But a cloud comes over Mollie’s face. She looks down at the purple net she’s splashing around in the rock pool. “We’ll have to wait and see,” she says quietly.

Wait and see. Such an adult expression. Is that what my daughter has been telling her? Oh dear. I need to jolly everything up.

“Tell you what,” I suggest, “We’ll go to the sweet shop on the way home.”

“Yes please!” she says, smiling.

By the time we get there, she’s jumping up and down with excitement. “Please can I have a rabbit just like the one you’ve got on the shelf,” she says.”Just as long as it’s not out of date.”

John, who owns the shop, gives me a quizzical look. I pretend to ignore it.

“It’s like that one,” I say pointing out a line of them in his cabinet.

“Very good choice, if I may say so,” he says. “Anything else?”

“No thank you.” Mollie is cradling the little chocolate rabbit in the palm of her hand.”It’s so sweet.”

“How about a ticket for the raffle?” he suggests. “Look – you could win the really big egg in the window.”

Mollie jumps up and down.”Yes please!” “We might not get it,” I warn. “Raffles are a bit of a gamble.”

“What’s a gamble?” she asks. “Something that might or might not happen,” I say. John catches my eye. This time, it’s hard to ignore it.

“You keep this half,” he says, giving my granddaughter a small pink ticket. “And I’ll keep the other. Then if it wins, I can tell your granny.”

“How do you know where she lives?” “Don’t you worry about that. By the way, don’t forget this, Sally.”

He gives me a piece of paper which I slip it into my pocket.

Mollie skips all the way home, talking to her rabbit as she does so. “I’m going to put you on the shelf next to the other rabbit. You can be friends. Can’t they, granny?” “Yes, poppet,” I say. “They can.”

Then she slips her other hand in mine. My heart swells with love and hope.

Maybe we’re getting there.

What would you like for tea?” I ask.”Macaroni cheese?” This was her favourite but I half-expect her to tell me she likes something else now.

“Yes please,” she replies. “Can I help you make the cheese sauce like I used to?”

“Of course!”

How can my granddaughter have changed so much in the year that we haven’t seen each other?

That had been another of our traditions. She’d stand on the stool by the Aga and help stir the flour into the melted butter while slowly adding the milk.

“But I want to settle rabbit into his new home first,” she says, running in through the front door. She gets to the shelf before I do. Before I can stop her, she pulls up a chair and then – crash.

“Oh, no!” she says.”Old rabbit has smashed into tiny pieces.”

Then she bursts into tears.

“That’s all right,” I say, giving her a hug.”We couldn’t eat it anyway.”

“But rabbit was important to you,” she said. “I could see it in your eyes.”

She’s right. My granddaughter is so perceptive. It’s time to be frank. I’ve already had this discussion with my daughter. She said it was up to me.

“Come and sit on my knee,” I say.

She cuddles up. I put my arms around her and breathe her in. “You know I haven’t been very well,” I say slowly. Mollie nods.

That was the wording we’d agreed on. I didn’t want to say the cancer word out loud to anyone because it felt too scary. I also hadn’t wanted Mollie to see me when I was having my treatment after the op. I simply wasn’t myself.

“But I’m getting better now,” I say. “And rabbit helped me.”

“How?”

It’s hard to explain. In fact, when I say it out loud, it feels a bit silly.

“You remember me saying that I bought rabbit for you last Easter?” She nods. “Then I got ill and the world also got poorly. So we couldn’t visit each other.” She nods again. “Well I used to look at rabbit and tell myself that one day, we’d be able to cuddle each other again. Rabbit was a sign of hope. That’s why I didn’t want to throw him away when he got old.” “But now he’s broken,” says Mollie. “Maybe that’s because he’s done his job,” I say. “You’re with me at last and we have a new chocolate rabbit that we can eat together.”

“I don’t want to eat him,” she says. “I just want to look after him so that you will be safe too.”

A lump rises in my throat. “Thank you. But I’m safe now. The doctors are very happy with me.”

“So I don’t have to worry any more?” Was that why she’d been so quiet? Maybe she’d picked up my daughter’s anxiety too.

“No,” I say firmly. “You don’t.”

“You won’t break if I hold your hand?” So that was it!

“Definitely not. Now let’s make that macaroni cheese together shall we? And tomorrow, we’ve got something very special to do.”

Her eyes sparkle.”What?”

I get out the piece of paper. “Can you spell this?”

Mollie’s reading has come on in leaps and bounds since I’d last seen her. “Easter bonnet competition,” she says, carefully reading it out.

“It’s in aid of charity,” I say. “Would you like to help me make one?”

“Will it fit over your wig?” she asks. So she knows I wear one! Maybe my daughter had let that one slip out.

“Yes,” I say, gently. “It will.”

We have a brilliant time cutting up crepe paper and making flowers to put on the bonnet. Her little head is close to mine as we cut and twist and glue.

“Perfect,” says Mollie. “But we need to add one more thing.”

I know just what she’s going to say. “Your new chocolate rabbit?” I suggest. She nods, her eyes shining. “Look. We can tuck him in the ribbon. Just like that.”

Mollie couldn’t stop jumping up and down with excitement when they announced the results.

“Look, mummy,” she said when her parents came to pick her up. “I won a toy rabbit. He can be a friend for my chocolate rabbit. I’m going to take them both home and look after them safely until we see granny again. Can I come and stay again soon?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say, giving her a cuddle.

When they’ve gone, the house is so quiet! Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s John. He was a good friend to me during my illness, often taking me into hospital for my treatments. He’s got grandchildren too, so he understands how special Mollie is to me.

“I’m afraid you didn’t win,” he says.

“But I’ve brought a consolation prize .” Mmm! I love pizza.

Besides, who needs to win an Easter egg raffle when you’ve won the biggest gamble of all?

I’m not just talking about my prognosis which the doctors say is “extremely encouraging”.

The best bit is that I’ve got my little granddaughter back. Thank you, chocolate rabbits. Both of you.

FICTION ED SAYS: This heartwarming Easter tale from Jane Corry, was inspired by her own grandchildren. “I bought a chocolate rabbit for my grandchildren last year but couldn’t give it to them because of lockdown,” says Jane. “I put it on my kitchen windowsill to give me hope. It did.” We are super excited for Jane’s new book arriving in June. The Lies We Tell, Penguin, PBO, £7.99,

June 24.