I used to come here with Grandma every Saturday morning when I was younger. She loved to search the place, scour it for hours on the hunt for unusual, rare objects. Things she could pass down to us, things she thought had sentiment; sometimes when she was feeling mischievous she would even search for things she could sell. She had a good eye did my Grandma.
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The place smelt of old, damp cloth. That dirty, wet, musty smell that was normally avoided. I always thought the place was tacky- a posh car boot sale perhaps, but as I stood in the doorway, my arms enclosing an old cardboard box full of Grandma’s belongings, I suddenly thought differently. This was her place. Somewhere she had felt she could share with me. Alan, the old man who owned the shop, rushed over, took the box from my arms and pulled me into a tight embrace.
‘C’mon kiddo, let’s go and get you a warm mug of tea’ he said encouragingly.
He led me to the back room, which looked like another shop in itself. Each shelf clustered with ageing, hideous objects. Vases, pots, painting, jewellery boxes, jewellery itself and every other antique you could think of filling the room. I was astounded. Out front was busy enough but what was all this doing in here? And where had it come from?
‘Right you, let’s be having that box of Alice’s stuff- I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time- you sit on that chair down there and you can talk to me in a minute when I’ve made you something to drink. I take it your mother doesn’t know you’re here.’ Alan said with such a welcoming tone to his voice. I could see why Grandma liked to spend every Saturday here with him.
‘No she doesn’t, Grandma didn’t want me to tell Mum about the shop. She said she would never understand. I’m not going to start telling her about it now, just because Grandma has...gone.’
My voice cracked and disappeared into a whisper. I still hadn’t come to terms with what had happened. It was too raw, and I didn’t want to think about never seeing my beloved Grandma ever again.
Alan nodded at me, indicating he knew exactly how I felt. Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn’t? He and Grandma seemed pretty close when we came here. I too had a good eye. Something I must have inherited from Grandma.
Alan brought the tea over and we sat in silence for a few moments. I was transfixed in my own world, taking myself through the events of the last few days, wondering why Grandma had been so adamant that I bring this box to Alan, without anyone knowing or seeing. What was in there that was so important? Rather abruptly my thoughts were interrupted,
‘You haven’t looked in the box have you, Beth?’ Alan asked, watching me closely.
‘No. Grandma told me to bring it straight to you before anyone found it’ I replied, searching his face for answers. There weren’t any, just a distanced look and a screwed up face. I know he was grieving for my Grandma too, and I wanted to offer some words of comfort, but there was something strange about him, something I couldn’t quite understand yet.
Everything about this room reminded me of Grandma; her favourite colour, covering the walls; to statues, paintings and vases shaped in the form of her favourite animal, a black horse. Even though I had been in this room many times in the past with her, it was only now that I noticed the details. Alan saw me looking and kept his eyes to the ground. Something wasn’t quite right. I suddenly had an over powering urge to get out of the shop, it was bringing back too many memories. I could hear her laugh in my head, I could see the way she would search the antiques, looking for signs of wealth or sentiment and I could feel her presence around me. It all felt too real.
‘Thanks for the tea, Alan, I must go now! See you, soon!’ I stammered, whilst grabbing my coat and running out of the shop. Alan remained silent, offering no goodbye. Though I’m sure I heard the sound of a small sob as I shut the door.
It was a cold, dark night and there was a hint of snow in the air. It was cold enough anyway, and it usually snowed around this time. The village was known for its ferocious wintery conditions. Each year was the same, yet the council never seemed to do anything about it. There were always the hours of queuing traffic, un-gritted roads, and black ice casing everything it could lay itself upon. Leaning back against the hard, cold brick wall of the shop I took a few deep breaths. I couldn’t face going home yet, Mum would be in tears as usual and Dad would be hopelessly trying to console her. Grandma’s death had hit them hard, as it had done with all of us. Even Alan seemed to be struggling. I turned and peered through the shop window. I could just about make him out, sat with his head in his hands with Grandma’s box placed in front of him. What was going on? I had to find out what was in that box. Turning the handle, I re-entered the shop. The musty smell hit me instantly, it was awful; the carpets, walls and even Alan were stained with the smell. He looked up in surprise,
‘Beth?’
‘What’s in Grandmas’ box Alan?’ I asked him
He stared at me intently as if he was searching for something. His eyes were red and puffy, and it was obvious he had been crying. ‘I will be back in a moment, Beth’. He was gone for what seemed like hours. I sat patiently, my foot tapped impatiently. I scanned the room for clues of what was about to come, but I had no idea what to expect. What was in the box? What could possibly be in that box, that even Grandma didn’t want me to see?
The anticipation was too much; I grabbed the flapping sellotape at the edge of the box and pulled as hard as I could. It peeled off easily and revealed the contents. To my surprise, the box was full of letters, tied up with various pieces of ribbon, red being the most popular colour. I stared inside, wondering what to do next. Was it an invasion of privacy if I opened the letters? Or did I have the right to see what was evidently being so closely hidden? She was my Grandma after all. I didn’t have time to decide...
‘What the HELL are you doing young lady?! You had no right to open that box!! You know it’s between me and Alice! Get out, get out, GET OUT!!’ Alan boomed at me.
I stared at him in shock. ‘Alan, I’m so sorry, I just need to know what’s going on! I know something isn’t right. What has happened between you and Grandma?’
He took a deep breath, straightened himself out and fumbled back into the chair opposite me. The mysterious box was now the only thing separating us. This box...full of secrets perhaps? Turmoil? Upset? I didn’t know. But I felt sure he was about to tell me.
The snow was beginning to fall. Perfect white drops foaming on the nearest surfaces they could find, settling for the night to create the beautiful landscape. Not realising the chaos they would cause once the morning came.
‘Beth, your Grandmother and I have known each other for a very long time. We met in 1939 when we lived opposite each other, a few miles from here in Leeds. We were inseparable, spent every moment we could together. We were in love, Beth,’ he said slowly.
‘I don’t understand, what has this got to do with the letters? I know Grandma was young once and will have dated other men’ I replied confusedly.
‘No Beth, we were in love but we weren’t allowed to be in love. Your Grandmother’s family disapproved of me. They said she wasn’t to be involved with a Jewish boy like me. It was wrong and would bring shame on the family’ He paused for a second and I could see the tears glistening in his eyes. ‘We tried to see each other, I couldn’t bear to be apart from Alice...but they found out and moved her away.’
‘And this is when the letters began’ I concluded
‘Yes, we sent letters for years. Neither of us got married, although Alice was never short of attention. Eyes followed her wherever she went. I mentioned to her about my fascination with antiques and told of my plans to open a shop, and I was thrilled when she shared the same thoughts. She suggested I open a shop in the village she lived in. However...the letters then stopped. On her part I mean. I carried on sending them for a year but to no avail. Her parents must have found out’
Alan froze for a moment, as if re-living his past. He looked like a fragile old man, an image I had never associated with him before. My heart reached out for him. What was it like to be so in love yet be forced to hide those feelings?
He continued,
‘Anyway, I’m not sure whether your Grandma ever wanted you to know this entire story, if any of it at all. It is very personal, hence the reason she has never told your mother. In the end Beth, through a mutual friend, we found each other and your Grandma has been visiting me and spending every Saturday in the shop with me. You should feel privileged and proud that she chose to share the shop and me with you, as I must admit I wasn’t keen at first. Though she said you were special, and she was right. She had a good eye did your Grandma.’
I sat in a state of shock. My arms crossed round my body, head down and eyes shut. I didn’t want to understand this. Why had grandma never told me? Why had she never told Mum? She had taken this secret to her grave. Or so she thought. Maybe if she had told Mum then Alan could have been part of the family and she wouldn’t have seemed so lonely all the time. A thought suddenly occurred to me...
‘Alan, are you my Grand...’
‘Oh no, no, dear, your Grandmother was never short of male attention, Beth’ he replied.
For the second time that night, I needed to get out of the shop. I needed space, space to think this through. I made a run into the beautiful night, and looked up at the sky. The stars glistened and I was filled with warmth. Grandma’s warmth.
Victoria Gill is currently studying an English degree at Sheffield Hallam University.
'I live and spend most of my time in Sheffield at the moment, but originally I am from a small town in Lancashire called Colne. From a very young age, I have always loved reading and writing, and this continued into my late teen years making the decision to study English at University easy. I have developed many skills and my desire to write has increased through my Creative Writing modules, and I have decided that this is the path I want to take. Ideally I would love to write about fashion, beauty etc as this is what I am interested in, and I love to write in a quirky style about these topics.'