I must admit, I hoped Gran might leave me her jewellery. Instead, on her deathbed, she passed me a box with a shaky hand and said,
‘Melody dear, take this to Chris at Hedgehog Aid. Oh, and this is for you.’
Now, this did look interesting. An ornate gilt-edged diary.
Her death was peaceful, or at least it looked that way from where we were sitting, on three wooden chairs dragged in from the kitchen. I was perched between my Mum and her estranged sister Alice, engulfed in their icy silence. The moment Gran passed, a warm glow filled the room, easing the tension and even some of the grief.
All around us, rescue animals of all kinds meandered about. A three-legged cat settled into Aunt Alice’s lap just as she was dabbing her eyes, red nails shimmering in the morning light. I avoided Mum’s gaze to prevent myself laughing. Aunt Alice hates animals and would have been lamenting the damage to her suede skirt.
So when Gran left all the animals to Aunt Alice, and her collection of couture clothes to Mum, who works on a farm and has no eye for fashion, it made no sense. Not until a month after Gran’s death, when Mum called me and said,
‘Alice and I are on the phone every day now for advice on styling and animal care!’
I smiled to myself. If there was one thing Gran was more obsessed with than animals, it was repairing her daughters’ relationship. That, and my lack of a husband.
Gran’s diary remains a mystery. Since it was only February when she died, it was mostly empty.
As for the box, it’s taken me months to get around to bringing it to Hedgehog Aid. It occurs to me as I rest it on the counter and wait for the guy to get off the phone, that it might be an actual hedgehog. Jesus, I hope not.
‘Can I help you?’
He has the most mesmerising green eyes I’ve ever seen.
We stare for too long.
My bright tone clashes with my words. ‘Yes! My Gran, Gloria, died. Said to bring this to Chris.’
‘That’s me,’ he says. ‘Sorry to hear about lovely Gloria.’
He lifts out a hedgehog plush toy. ‘There’s a note for you, Melody, and one for me.’
A jolt of electricity travels through me when he says my name, and again as he hands me the envelope.
‘Cute, isn’t he?’ says Gran’s swirling scrawl.
‘Mine says, ‘Cute, isn’t she?’’ says Chris.
We both look at the hedgehog and blush.
*
Later, as I’m getting ready for my date with Chris, I pick up Gran’s diary again.
My breath catches when I open it. The diary is full.
She’s still writing in it!
When I read today’s entry, I have to sit down.
‘Now that you’ve finally been to see Chris, I’ll tell you where the jewellery is. But I won’t reveal the meaning of life until after the wedding…’
