Free Afterwards by Rachel Seiffert Page A

mornings. He saved enough to retire a few years early, but until then, he commuted halfway across the city. Always caught an early train, and rarely came home before evening. While they lived at her grandparents’,Alice and her mum would eat most of their mealswith Gran, just the three of them. Breakfasts after Grandad left for work and often their suppers too, before he came home. They would talk about school and friends, and they’d have the radio on in the background while they ate in the kitchen. Alice loved her grandfather, but she always liked this better than the meals when he was home and their places were laid at the dining room table.
    Her train was late but the rain had stopped and Alice folded the umbrella, zipped it into a pocket of her rucksack. It was harsh, realising how little they knew of each other, how many years her gran had been compensating, providing ease and conversation. Alan said once that her grandfather just didn’t care enough about him to bother with talking. It had stung Alice, because she’d thought it might be true, and it did again now, thinking it might apply to her too. After they’d finished their tea, her grandad had washed while she dried and put away, everything familiar and in its own place. Alice wondered then if he found their silences companionable, or if he was just as uncomfortable. Looking at him, absorbed in his washing and rinsing, it had been impossible to tell. She was almost glad when the rain had let up, because it had given her a cue to go. Alice watched her train arriving, reminded herself he’d lost his wife and felt ashamed.
    Alan didn’t get on with Grandad. They never argued, but they never really spoke either. Alice’s mum didn’t agree, but Alan insisted David didn’t like him:
    – He acts like I’m not there. He does it with everyone who makes him uncomfortable.
    – Don’t exaggerate.
    – Even you sometimes.
    Grandad was the only thing her mum and Alan ever rowed about, as far as Alice could tell. It was usually good-humoured, while she was around in any case, but serious enough, despite the smiles. Listening to them, Alice would often feel defensive like her mother, but usually thought Alan was right. He’d come to London for a conference once, a few years ago, and stayed at her grandparents’ on his last night, instead of the hotel. Alice cycled over early the next morning to see him, and found her grandfather and Alan at the breakfast table, absorbed in separate sections of the paper.
    – He was already reading when I came down and I felt stupid just sitting there after your Gran went out to the shops.
    Alice had walked with Alan to the station when it was time for him to leave, and she’d tried not to apologise for her grandfather, or find excuses: she’d been in on enough of Alan’s discussions with her mother to know that would only annoy him. Better just to let him laugh about it:
    – It’s probably the best arrangement. We both keep schtum, we can’t piss each other off too much, can we?
    That was how Alan dealt with it mostly, and Alice thought he didn’t have much option. Her mum agreed that Grandad could be standoffish, but she refused to see it as deliberate, or directed at Alan.
    – It’s just his manner, love. I wouldn’t take it personally.
    She was impassive, and while Alice found that reassuring in her mother, she knew it was just frustratingfor Alan. He teased his wife about her parents’ colonial past, because he knew that was the one way to get a rise out of her. Alice’s gran was from Fife, her grandad from London, but they were both in Nairobi when they met. She was a nurse, and had been recruited to Kenya after the war. He was an RAF pilot: had joined up in 1950 for his national service, and stayed on. He got posted to Africa twice in two years: first Rhodesia, as it was then, for training, and a few months later Kenya.
    – Keeenya.
    Alan would elongate the vowel and smile when his wife didn’t respond: