The little girl sat quietly, colouring book on her knees and pencil in hand. She loved colouring but she just couldn’t settle and most of the picture lay untouched. She always found it hard when Granny K came to visit these days- since he’d gone. The adults had noticed of course and they understood. There was a space where he should have been, an empty chair when they sat at the table for tea, no giggles as he wiggled his fingers into her tummy or lifted her up to swoop and swirl in the air like a bird. They noticed, and they understood, but nothing they said could lift the cloud.
The old lady came back into the room and the little girl lifted her head to see that she was carrying an old box. She’d seen the box before, at Granny K’s house. It was made of dark brown wood with shiny pieces of silvery pearl set into it and a little brass clasp on the front. The old lady walked through the room and as the girl looked up at her she gave a slight wink. The little girl was intrigued.
The old lady settled herself down in the big chair in the conservatory and seeing that the girl had followed her with her gaze, raised her hand and beckoned gently. The little girl rose, walked slowly, head down, into the conservatory and dropped onto the floor by the old lady’s feet.
“Would you like to see what’s in my special box?”
“Yes, please”, replied the little girl eagerly.
“You can open it if you like, just unhook the little catch and lift the lid.”
The little girl did as directed, half expecting something to jump out and surprise her or for the box to be filled with jewels. But nothing jumped out; nothing sparkled. She sagged a little.
“Were you expecting something else?”
Embarrassed, the little girl responded:
“Yes, I thought it might be treasure, but it’s just some old letters.”
“Tut tut my dear”, the old lady said with a smile on her face, “These aren’t just ‘some old letters’. These ARE treasure. Here, this is the first one. Open it up and see what it says.”
The little girl slipped her finger under the flap and carefully drew out the pages from within. It was an old letter, dated 17th April 2005 – almost sixty years ago – and written in a child’s hand. It started: ‘Dear Grandad’. She didn’t think she was going to like this. She turned over quickly to the last page and read the words ‘Love from Kate’. Granny K was called Kate…
She looked up at Granny K, down at the page and back up at Granny K again. The old lady smiled and nodded.
“Go on, read it out loud.”
Next: Letter 1 – The House
Return to Dear Grandad (Home)
and a writer 
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