Pepper and Salt
UPLIFTING SHORT STORY WRITTEN BY VALERIE BOWES
Could new neighbours, lively children and a few challenges bring a sprinkle of colour to Barbara’s life?
Was that another grey hair?
Barbara peered closer.
Why couldn’t it make up its mind? One thing or the other, not this pepper-and-salt nonsense.
The sound of a thump and a wail drew her attention away from the mirror. Pushing open the bathroom window, she looked out. From here, she had a view over next door’s garden as well as her own.
A new family had moved in a little while ago: Ellen and Steve, eight-year-old Robbie and his ten-year-old sister Molly.
Robbie was lying face down on the paved pathway. As Barbara was about to call to him, he got up slowly. There was something not quite right about the way he was cradling his hand.
Barbara waited for his mother to rush out, but nobody appeared. Robbie sat heavily on the step down from the patio. She watched him for a moment, then went downstairs and out into the garden.
“Robbie? What’s the matter?”
His face was white and he drew a shuddering breath.
“Hurts.”
“Where’s your mum?”
“Shops. With Molly.” He made a valiant effort to straighten his shoulders. “She said they’d only be a few minutes, but it’s been ages.”
“Hang on a tick.” Barbara eyed the fence with misgiving.
It didn’t look as if it would stand an elderly woman clambering over it, but she doubted Robbie would be up to traipsing through the house to open the front door. She glared at the fence and the roses waving their thorns.
Her eighteen-year-old self wouldn’t have hesitated, so her seventy-something self didn’t either.
It was a good job nobody was watching the inelegant way she got over, but all considerations of dignity went by the board when she saw Robbie’s thumb, twisted at an odd angle.
“No wonder it hurts, you’ve dislocated it. No worries, Rob. We’ll just jump in my car and whip down to A&E.” She patted his shoulder encouragingly. “It’ll be sore for a few days, but it’ll be fine. Come on. I’ll leave a note for your mum and get my keys.”
Ellen opened the door as soon as she heard the car draw up outside. Molly was peering out of the window.
“Oh, Rob! You poor thing! How did that happen?” Ellen hugged her son to her. “I’m so grateful, Barbara. I thought I’d only be a few minutes, but everything that could go wrong went wrong and it was nearly half-past when we got back.”
“No problem,” said Barbara. “Robbie was as brave as anything.”
“What did they do, Rob?” Molly asked, wide-eyed.
“Gave me a Local Annie’s Thetic and twisted it,” Robbie said. “Then they put this bandage on it and Barbara bought me an ice cream. A chocolate one.”
Barbara patted him on the back and was surprised and pleased when he hugged her heartily round the middle. But as she turned to go, she caught his whisper to his sister.
“I think Barbara looks just like a gran. What do you think, Molls?”
Barbara didn’t have grandchildren of her own. Somehow, she’d never had time for marriage and a family, but looking like a gran? Maybe she should get her hair coloured? She could opt for a soft brown, like it had been. There again, she’d always fancied being a vibrant redhead. She could even go green or multicoloured!
The doorbell pealed while she was watching a film that evening. When she went to see who it was, Ellen held out a big bunch of flowers.
“To say thank you.” She hesitated. “And to explain. I saw you’d heard Robbie say you looked like a gran and I was afraid you’d misunderstood. My mother died just after Molly was born and Steve’s mum is always off skiing or trekking up mountains. They’re very proud of her, but they desperately want a ‘proper’ gran as well. One who will be there for them, go to their school plays, that sort of thing. They think you’re just like a gran should be.”
“I’m very flattered,” Barbara said. “You mean you’d like me to be a sort of honorary grandma?”
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” said Ellen.
“I’m game, if they are.” Grans did the spoiling and then gave them back. She could cope with that.
And she wouldn’t bother with having her hair coloured if she was going to be a proper gran. Pepper and salt. Isn’t life always better for a little seasoning?
Read more uplifting short stories:
Read Open Mic Night, Old Friends, Curtains Up, plus many more in our archives.
