The Artist’s Eye by Mhairi Grant

AS the water was poured over the baby’s head, Carly – the proud godparent to her little niece – looked at her assembled family.

It was then she noticed Gam, short for Great-aunt Maddie, had a tear running down her cheek. She had never seen Gam cry before.

Carly stood transfixed. Gam, the town’s first female mayor, who had regularly flown a biplane to do crop-spraying in Australia, and who had danced with Sean Connery, was crying!

“Did you notice Gam crying?” she asked her sister later at the christening tea.

“Really? That’s not like Gam.”

Gam had always been central to Carly’s life. Gam attended every family occasion, was supportive and generous and, above all, was always smiling and composed.

“Did you see Gam crying?” Carly asked her younger brother.

He frowned as if she wasn’t making sense.

“No. Gam’s normally sound.”

Coming from her brother, that was a compliment. Then both her siblings went on to talk about something else.

Carly studied Gam surreptitiously. She was red around the eyes.

“Mum,” she whispered. “Gam’s been crying. Do you know what’s wrong?”

“No,” she said. “It’s probably to do with her age. Some people get more sentimental.”

But Gam never cried at weddings or christenings.

Carly sidled up to the legend in her lifetime and offered her a piece of christening cake. “Everything OK, Gam?” Gam sniffed and then seemed to smile bravely.

“Fine, Carly. I love your hair.”

It was purple this week, feathered at the top with two plaits either side. Her mum had pretended not to see it.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You look as if you’ve been crying.”

Her great-aunt gave her a horrified look.

“Oh, I’m not crying, Carly! I’m allergic to this new eye make-up, that’s all.”

Carly wasn’t convinced. She opened her mouth to say so but Gam just patted her arm and winked.

“Must circulate. Speak to you later.”

Then she sashayed her way around the tables, making sure to speak to everyone.

Carly watched in admiration. Gam was of the old school. She’d had a hard life.

She hadn’t married till she was forty. She’d only had five years with her husband before he died of what she called a silly bout of flu.

She had been left with twin boys, both of whom had emigrated – one to America and the other to Singapore. But she had never complained.

But she had let the mask slip and Carly speculated that all was not well in Gam’s world.

Maybe the twins, who were as adventurous as their mother, were in some kind of trouble. Or maybe Gam had some serious illness.

The last thought brought Carly up short. Gam was seventy-three going on thirteen and three-quarters. It was a possibility.

It was this thought that drove Carly into her studio to create a painting for Gam.

Besides commissioned paintings, Carly also created her own cards and wrapping paper and made door hangers and compact mirrors, selling them at fairs up and down the country.

This painting would be a one-off. It would show Gam as she had been a few years ago, dressed in dungarees and wearing her hair in Looby Loo pigtails.

She’d been entertaining in a care home and it was one of Carly’s favourite memories of her, because with her rouged cheeks she had been the smaller version of Gam. They’d sung, danced and laughed their ways into the hearts of the patients.

Now it was Gam’s turn to be cheered up. Carly sang as she drove to her aunt’s house. She hoped that Gam liked the painting.

She was very encouraging about Carly’s arts and craft business, and had often helped out at trade fairs, but Gam was used to giving and not receiving.

Carly had rehearsed what she was going to say. She had to be careful if her aunt were to open up to her.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Gam shouted in response to her greeting. “Be prepared for a bit of a mess.”

A bit of a mess? Carly’s eyes widened.

“What happened?”

“I was making some tomato soup and the lid came off the blender.”

Gam had soup dripping off her hair and all down her red hoodie. Behind her the walls and units were splattered.

Carly started to laugh. “Red Riding Hood’s revenge. You look as if you’ve just killed the wolf!”

“Carly, at my age I wouldn’t kill the wolf. I would welcome it with open arms!”

Then Gam started to laugh. They laughed until Carly’s cheeks ached.

When she managed to sober down, she took one look at Gam and that set them off again.

Later, once she’d helped Gam clean up the mess, she stared at Gam’s face.

“You’re still wearing that make-up you’re allergic to.” “Ah!”

Gam turned away and put on the kettle. She would never show vulnerability.

Carly waited. All her life Gam had been there for her, helping out financially, emotionally and physically, and had never asked for anything in return.

“It’s Craig,” she said eventually. “Kelly . . .”

Craig was one of the twins. He worked on a

ranch and did cowboy things. The vastness of the ranch was beyond her comprehension, but Craig and Kelly had seemed born for the life.

“I didn’t tell anyone that Kelly was pregnant. But . . . she lost the baby.”

Gam turned to face her. “It was their last chance. But,” she added in a voice that sounded lost, “they’ve come to terms with it.”

Carly didn’t know what to say. Up till then, she hadn’t realised that Gam had hoped for grandchildren.

In fact, because they were so far away, Carly often forgot about Gam’s sons. But she did know that her other son had no intention of settling down.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s stupid, but I was making plans to spend several months of the year out there helping with my grandchild. At the christening it brought the loss home. I’m just being a silly old fool,” she finished.

Carly put her arm around her great-aunt.

“You still have me, Gam.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. It made her seem conceited.

“I left something for you in the hall.” She stood up.

“As long as it’s not your washing,” Gam replied, smiling away her loss.

Carly brought it through and laid it on the kitchen table. She’d wrapped it up in her own bespoke paper.

It wouldn’t make up for Gam’s loss, but she hoped Gam would see how much her family cared about her. Particularly as they weren’t a demonstrative lot.

“It’s to remind you of happier times,” Carly said as Gam started to pick the tape off the paper.

“How exciting,” Gam breathed.

Carly held her breath as Gam unwrapped the painting then stared at it for what seemed a long time.

“I love it, Carly. Absolutely love it,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Her great-aunt stretched out a shaking hand to touch it and then the strangest thing happened.

Gam hugged her close and began to cry. n