Coldhill

Coldhill, It were a town like no other. East of the Atlantic Ocean and so small it had only one of most amenities.

It were deserted, or so that’s how it seemed over the last few years. We had the war, six years ago.

This place were as though the war had only just ended; as cold as its name, as empty as it sounded, the rubble and gravel were the remains of what were.

My names Doug, 23 years old living in a high rise flat in the middle of what seemed to be the ghetto. Not too tall 5ft 9inches to be precise and always wore joggers and some sort of hoodie or jumper. I didn’t have much, just a few items of clothes, food from the local cafe my girlfriend Sarah worked at and the occasional cash from being the local handy man. There were nothing much really to do round here. People just ... ‘lived’.

Wednesday 16th February 1998, I woke up in my single bed at 7.30am to the sound of Sarah’s alarm clock. I leaned over her to switch it off. Her frazzled hair pricked my face as I did so as she laid on her side curled up in front of me. Her face were barley showing above the quilt just a small piece of her pasty forehead were exposed to the sunlight. I smiled as I listened to her nose whistling, before waking her.

I walked her to work for 9am and went to check on my grandpa to make sure he were good as I always did.

My grandparents pretty much raised me since I were like eleven. A few years ago my nan died of Alzheimer’s. It hit grandpa hard, I promised to never leave him after that.

I looked over as his little bungalow and cautiously walked up the three steps leading to the front door as I arrived. Slippery from the residue of the damp weather. I punched in the code for the safe to get the key and unlocked the door.

“Gramps!” I called through the hallway as I kicked off my shoes.

“Dougie!” He screeched back in his husky short voice. “Come here”, he said. He opened his arms to give me a hug. He were sat in his armchair in the living room close to the window. Every time he saw me it were as though it were the first time in ages. He were wearing the grey woolly waist coat he never took off. I sat opposite him on the sofa.

“Son, we need to talk!” He warned. It seemed serious, I listened in. “Doug!” He started. “I have something I need to speak to you about!” I looked at him confused.

“I had the community nurse in earlier today. Because of the state of the city and everything going on with transport currently, no one aloud in or out, it means... that Monday just gone... was the last time I got my dialysis/,” “What!” I screamed. “What the hell! Is this a joke?” I questioned. “Son,” he continued but I cut him off straight away. His voices sounded too understanding and reasonable. This were ridiculous and I couldn’t hear much more of it.

“Grandpa, I come here every day, you’ve mentioned nothing. Why? Where do I have to go? I will pick up your meds and insulin myself. Have you taken your normal meds today? How much have you missed so far in total?” I screamed. “Stop!” He bellowed. This were a deeper and louder voice. It took him back. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t believe he could keep something this important from me.

“It’s too late,” he continued. “I knew this would’ve been the case for a while now. I know I hadn’t told you but surely you should have seen this coming ages ago. To be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I found out only two weeks ago myself and I purposely didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react. You’d try to sort things, run around after me, treat me like a burden. I kept my mouth shut to have the best last days with my only grandson and it’s worked.” He sat back to get comfy in his chair before continuing a more relaxed note. “You’re the only one who’s always stuck by me and at my side, year after year and day by day. The one who makes sure I take my meds, shout at my nurses, clean my house and now you’ve even got Sarah checking I’ve eaten and bringing me food from the cafe. I love you so much Dougie. Not even my own son stuck around. Wife died and left me”. He smiled. “I love you grandpa,” I said as I walked over to the chair he were sat in. I sat on the arm of it and held his hand. He squeezed mine. I let my head fall backwards away from his and tried my hardest to hold my tears back. I’m not an emotional person by far but my grandpa were right. We only had each other. He had other family members that lived nowhere near us and never bothered to call.

I felt his grip get loose on my hand, his breathing got heavier and I realised he had fallen asleep. I sat up and put my head in my hands. Had a huge lump in my throat and now tears were flooding from my eyes uncontrollably. I took in a deep breath and without any thought at all, grabbed his cigarette box and lighter from the side table. I started to the front door in just my socks and closed it behind me. I looked down towards my hands at the cigarette box. Super-king size Luna. My grandpa were the only person I knew who even smoked these cigarettes. They must have been an old person brand.

I hadn’t smoked for the last two years but needed one.

I opened the packet and I pulled one out and closed the lid back. I put the cigarette between my index and middle finger and brought it up toward my lips. I flicked the red lighter and exposed the high naked flame to the tip of the cigarette as I inhaled long and deep. I almost chocked as I blew the smoke back out my mouth. It hit me. They were strong and I weren’t used to them anymore. Although it took me back. I loved it and missed the feeling of being lightheaded from it. I could almost feel the addiction in my hands as I puffed away again. I came to the orange part of the cigarette and flicked it away. The cold air circulated my lungs.

I went back in just wanted to make sure he were ok, let him know I needed space and that I’d be back later on to check on him for dinner.

As I stood at the entrance in the hallway staring at him. The lump came back to my throat. I just needed to get out of that house. Even for just a few hours. I needed to get my head round everything. I walked over to him and collapsed on the floor next to his feet as I grabbed hold of his hand again. My head laid on his knee in devastation.

I must have been sat on the floor for a while, my left leg had seized up and I were getting pins and needles.

I stretched out my leg and started to shake it then turned to wake him to let him know I were leaving.

“Gramps... grandpa! Get up, I’m going,” I called through what sounded like a blocked nose and sniffling due to all the crying.

Whilst waiting for him to wake up, I realised I hadn’t heard him snore in a while. Paying more attention to detail, I soon realised I could no longer see his chest moving up and down. Panic ran through my body as well as paranoia in the back of my head. I started patting at his chest but couldn’t feel any movement. I put my finger under his nose to feel air, there weren’t any. He wasn’t breathing.

What do I do? I had the duty nurses number in my phone. I called her. The lady on the phone Jenny, told me she was on her way and would be only five minutes. She said she would check him over and if she were sure he was gone she would make the necessary calls.

I had so many questions running through my head but there were no answers following. I hated myself and felt such pity.

He couldn’t be gone. I began shouting him louder. I climbed on the armchair to make sure I knew for definite what were going on. I tapped his face whilst calling him as well as hitting his chest. Nothing, nothing changed. I started crying again. This time loudly, deathly hallows and wails of heartache ran through the house. Rivers of tears were now making his clothes wet from me as I tried my hardest to revive him. I climbed from off the top of him and stood up. As I did so, something fell from the side of the armchair onto the floor. It was a small black notebook of some sort.

This book. It were unfamiliar rather small in size, looked in good condition so potentially new or maybe given to him. Black leather. It had a bunch of folded papers inside which naturally slipped out as I clasped the spine. At this point, I weren’t too sure on what I were doing focusing so much on this stupid book. A pointless object hidden in this old armchair, but it seemed the more I saw the more I wanted to see and the more I read and learnt.

On the first page, wrote in black ink in grandpas handwriting, it read;

‘To my dear grandson Doug, I love you so much and I am so proud of the man you have become today. I hate the thought of leaving you in this world alone without me but unfortunately my time has come. I have left you something I think you’ll be able to make good use of and continue to do me proud. I know it won’t be anything compared to my presence but hope it makes life easier.

Also do me a favour, visit my sister, your aunt Sue for me, I left her something too. I’d like for you to be the one to give her the documents in person. Will be nice for you two to get aquatinted she will look out for you like I have. Love you always, gramps’

I stood for a moment while processing what I had read. When were this written? No date were on here. I didn’t even know he had a sister.

I reached for the folded papers.

Copy receipts of signed papers from grandpa and a solicitor. One were an overview of a will (I didn’t even know he had made), stating his assets and who would get what. I were now the owner of this bungalow I had no idea he had brought as well as the money he had saved from his private pension from years ago when he served in the army as well as that of life insurance he had been paying since age sixteen. The sum in total came to £226,000. The shares of a tobacco business in his name (again I had no idea about) were now in the name of Susan Bryan. I assume this was my aunt.

... I were speechless. Thoughtless.

I felt I had the world on my shoulders. Wednesday 16th February at 11:45am I were angry, upset, lonely and scared, about to go on a quest to continue my grandpas legacy.