When Life gets Messy

Harry jolted awake as the front door slammed.

Jenny looked flustered as she deposited a cardboard coffee cup on the table and shrugged off her coat.

"Sorry I'm late Grandad, it's carnage out there."

"Well you shouldn't have left it 'till rush hour"

"I know, I know, but ... I had a client and it ran over."

Jenny popped back in and scooped up the ready meal. Hotpot. He preferred the lasagne.

"No lasagne today Gramps, sorry, this was all they had."

He grunted and stared at the coffee cup. Why didn't she just buy a jar of instant? She was always claiming to be skint and what those coffee shops were charging was daylight robbery.

"You should have just bought a jar, it's cheaper." he said, pointing at the coffee.

"Ah well, it's a little treat isn't it, double caramel mocha."

She put the plastic tray of food down in front of him. He preferred it on a plate but he better not say anything. He started to eat, chewing slowly, his dentures finding a piece of gristle amongst the veg and gravy. He spat it out and pointedly wrapped it in a tissue before holding it out to her.

Without comment, she took it from him and dropped it in the kitchen bin, before settling herself in the armchair opposite, a bottle of plain water in hand. That was probably from the coffee shop as well. Couldn't she turn on a tap?

"Well Grandad, have you had a nice day?"

He frowned at her over his glasses and carried on eating.

"I've been run off my feet; two bikini waxes, an eyebrow reshape and three foot massages. Oh, and a facial skin peel."

"Why don't you get a proper job instead of pandering to people's expensive and unnecessary needs?" he pronounced; a rhetorical question that he regularly repeated.

"Never mind that, have you thought about what we talked about yesterday?"

"What you talked about, you mean."

Jenny sighed. "You can't stay here much longer Gramps, you can't manage by yourself. You need looking after now that Gran's gone."

"I've got you haven't I?" Another rhetorical question.

They both sat in silence for a few moments before Jenny spoke up again.

"You do know you'll lose the house if you have to go into care?"

Harry rose to his feet unsteadily. "I've told you, you can have my house when I'm dead!" he barked. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going for a lie down."

He left the room, leaning heavily on his stick and muttering under his breath.

Jenny cleared away his tea tray, washed the dishes that had been left in the sink and half-filled the kettle for his bedtime hot chocolate, before peeping in at his bedroom door.

"See you tomorrow then, call if you need me."

He replied with a wave of his hand, almost a dismissal, and she bit her tongue as she left, resisting the urge to slam the front door behind her.

Jenny climbed into her old Ford Escort and sat for a moment, tears stinging her eyes. She had been caring for her Grandad for five years now, since Gran died, and it wasn't getting any easier.

She had been talking to a client a couple of weeks ago who had told her that she had signed over her whole life to her son: signed over the deeds to her house and given him power of attorney so that she wouldn't have to spend her whole worth on care home fees when the time came. She planned to spend all of her money having a great time until she was "decrepit or doo-lally" - her words.

Jenny was horrified. "But where are you living?"

"Oh, I get to stay in my house, they just can't take it off me to pay for care, and when I do pop-me-clogs, its already his. No fuss about inheritance."

She had told her grandad about the woman, explaining as best she could and hoping he would think about it. After all, he had told her often enough that the house was hers when he went, and it would simplify matters. His response had been the same as today, "You can have my house when I'm dead." She had been quite offended, she wasn't after his money, she was just trying to be pragmatic.

Jenny should have led a different life. Her grandad was right about her job; it was rubbish pay and she spent her days pandering to the whims of rich ladies and daft girls. She had been all set to go to university. She got great A-level grades and had been accepted at Lancaster to study business; far enough to have to live away, but close enough to pop home whenever she wanted to.

But then her gran died quite suddenly. Jenny had lost her mum when she was quite young; her dad had never been on the scene and she had spent ten years living with her grandparents whom she loved dearly.

Overnight, her life and her plans changed. She couldn't leave her grandad on his own, so she got an apprenticeship at a local salon and moved into a tiny flat above a smelly kebab shop on the high street. She worked hard all day and then every evening, after work, she called in at her grandad's with his supper and his favourite coffee - the one he had always ordered when he treated her and gran to coffee and a slice of lemon drizzle on a Sunday afternoon.

He hadn't always been a grumpy old man and he had always been there for her, so she was devastated that he now seemed to think she was after his money; she wished she had never mentioned it.

Harry lay for a long time with his eyes closed. Jenny was right, he needed to sort things out why he still could. The problem was that it wasn't as simple as just signing over the house. If it was, he would do it in a heartbeat; there was no house to sign over - there was nothing.

When Mary had become ill, a lot earlier than Jenny was aware of, they had put the house into a shared ownership scheme; handing over their home to a company who then allowed them to live there as long as they needed to. This had freed up a bit of cash so that they could enjoy a few holidays while she was still able, and put a bit aside should Jenny want to go to university or buy her own place. He had paid the deposit on her little flat and helped her to kit it out, the plan being that when she went to uni she could rent it out to help ends meet.

When Mary's health had taken a sudden downturn, it had taken them all by surprise. He really hadn't wanted Jenny to change her plans, but she had refused to move away, instead taking that ridiculous job painting nails.

And now he was stuck. Jenny wasn't being callous, she was being sensible. How was he going to explain this whole mess.

The next afternoon, Jenny made sure that she was early. She also made sure that she had bought Grandads favourite lasagne - for two.

When she walked in she noticed that he had tidied up a bit, and that there were a pile of envelopes on the sideboard.

"Hi Gramps, lasagne tonight...and I picked up a lemon drizzle cake for us, a little treat."

It was Harry's turn to feel the tears pricking at his eyes, and he wiped them away quickly as she went into the kitchen to heat up the lasagne and put the kettle on.

"Sit down love, we need to talk."

By the time he had finished they were both in tears.

"Oh, Grandad, why didn't you tell me all this earlier?"

"I'd always promised you the house... and now I've nothing for you. I didn't know how."

His voice trailed off and he stared out of the window, somehow a shrunken version of the man he had been an hour earlier.

"Get your coat on," she said, "We're going out."

They sat in companionable silence, two extra large double caramel mochas and a large slice of lemon drizzle cake on the table in front of them.

"It'll be Ok Gramps. We've got each other, you have a roof over your head for as long as you need it, and I have my whole life ahead of me to go to uni and get a better job."

"I don't deserve you." Harry said, grasping her hand. "I don't deserve you, but I'm glad I've got you. Let's have another coffee."