As Grandie took a breath, I felt the reassuring touch of Connie’s hand on my knee. Grandie drained the whisky from his glass and looked at us both.
I’d no idea what I was about to hear but my heart was pounding so fast I pressed a hand to my chest.
‘I didn’t want you to leave, you’ve got to believe me when I say that.’
Anxiety ran though my body. ‘I know.’ That was never in doubt.
‘Florrie was my life, we were a close family unit. The day she died was the day my heart broke and it never mended. Of course, the pain eases in time but no one ever came close to what we had. The dance school was our passion, and our doors were well and truly open to everyone. Some great long-lasting friendships were made on that dance floor.’ He took a fleeting glance towards Grandma’s photograph on the sideboard before continuing.
‘The night of Florrie’s death,’ he took a breath, ‘we were attending the theatre. Florrie had been teaching over in the city that day and we’d arranged to meet outside the theatre with Rose and Connie.’
He dabbed his eyes once more as he cast his mind back.
‘Rose was late and Connie and I decided to wait another five minutes in the foyer. It was the time before all this gadget lark, and we didn’t know what was keeping either of them.’
Connie nodded in agreement. She knew what was coming next and plucked a tissue from her pocket.
‘It was then we heard a screech,’ Grandie said in a trancelike state, staring towards the window. ‘And the bang.’ He shuddered, ‘People were screaming, and Connie and I rushed outside along with everyone else who’d been standing in the foyer.’
He was shaking, the tears freely flowing as he tried to mop them away with his hanky. ‘She died, my wonderful Florrie died in my arms.’ He was clearly distraught.
‘You don’t need to go on,’ I said softly, feeling troubled by his pain.
‘I do,’ he took a moment to compose himself.
We all sat in silence for a minute before he spoke again. ‘Connie, I think we all need a drink.’ He tipped his head towards his empty whisky glass. Connie stood and placed a hand on his shoulder before carrying the decanter over to the coffee table. I watched as she poured out three drinks and I swigged mine back in record time, feeling the brown liquid burn the back of my throat. He’d clearly never ever got over my grandmother’s death, but it still didn’t explain the argument between him and my mum and why we’d had to leave.
‘Florrie was killed by a stolen car. A man was arrested at the scene.’
‘Oscar Bennett? The man in the newspaper.’
‘That’s right … Oscar Bennett,’ Grandie struggled to say his name. ‘They say time is a good healer, but it’s never ever healed where Florrie is concerned.’
Grandie looked pained and I felt my heart sink. I felt guilty and saddened that I was putting him through this, but I wanted to uncover the whole picture, for my own selfish reasons, and wasn’t it time this situation was sorted out anyway?
‘After Florrie, I didn’t think I could go through any more hurt or pain. But then you came along and brought love and hope back into this family at the point when I was at my lowest. You came into this world on Florrie’s birthday and I took that as a sign from Florrie. I know that sounds daft,’ he smiled weakly. ‘I can remember holding you for the very first time, you lay in my arms gurgling away and you looked just like her, the resemblance was so strong. I can remember breaking down and sobbing, knowing that she’d never set her eyes on something so precious …’ he caught his breath, ‘and that’s when I made you a promise that I would look after you forever, love you with all my heart and make sure no one ever hurt you.’
‘So why, ten years later, was I whisked off to New York?’ I probed.
He bent his head low. I knew I was pushing him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know.
‘I heard the argument, I was hiding behind the curtain in the room. You and Mum were shouting at each other. She’d let you down in some way and you said you were disappointed in her. What did she do that was so bad that you never wanted to see her again?’
The tears flowed fast and Connie took his hand and began to rub it gently. I could feel a terrible sadness bleeding through the room.
‘Grandie, tell me. Why did we leave Brook Bridge?’ I pushed some more, I wasn’t giving up.
‘Because …’
My heart was pounding.
‘Because … I was driving the car that killed your Grandma.’
We all swung round to see Mum standing in the doorway.
A bolt of fear shot through me as the words registered, and my eyes widened with dread. ‘No!’ I gasped, my throat tight, and heaviness surged through my body. I didn’t believe her, I didn’t want to believe her.
‘I’m so sorry, but it’s true.’ Mum looked defeated and slumped into the chair. Grandie was distraught.
In that split second my heart snapped in two. It had broken, just like Grandie’s had when he’d lost Florrie.
The room fell silent.
All of us were now hurting for different reasons.
The truth was finally out and Mum was home. The two things I’d wanted most of all. But I knew nothing would ever be the same again.