Free Flowers for the Dead by Barbara Copperthwaite Page B

more difficult, and it took months to get to some far-flung places. Imagine that, Adam, travelling for months to reach exotic places with all kinds of weird and wonderful creatures.
    “So he captured as many as he could, killed them and stuffed them so that he could show people all the wonders he had seen himself. That way he could keep them with him forever and enjoy them for years and years to come.
    “Even when he got very old and could no longer travel far, he was able to look at those animals and birds, and relive his past in his imagination.”
    Then both she and Adam would look at the glossy feathers of a bird of paradise, or the incredible body of the duck-billed platypus, and see beauty rather than death.
    Thinking about them now, as Adam pulled a deckchair out for his granny, a sudden question occurred to him and, unusual though it was for him, he blurted it out.
    “Gran, I know about my great-great granddad and great granddad…but what about Granddaddy?”
    Ada looked tired as she sank into the deckchair. There was a long silence, and Adam started to wonder if she was fighting a buzz in her head like he often had to.
    “Sometimes grown ups make silly decisions,” she said finally. “Your father never met his father. But that is all right, because I loved him enough for two parents.”
    Adam had never heard this story before. He went very still as he absorbed it. Ada reached out, took his hand and patted it.
    “It’s all right, poppet,” she said again, seeming to be think carefully before her next words. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t love someone enough to fix them – and I love your father so very, very much. And even though he isn’t around often, he loves you very, very much too.”
    The sensitive child tried to understand, but it was all so complicated. Still, his little heart broke that bit more. Poor Daddy.
    A joyous shrieking overhead broke the sombre mood. Ada squeezed Adam’s hand and smiled. “Swifts! See how they soar!”
    The birds seemed to bring Adam’s gran out of her sadness. She leaned over and plucked a daisy from the grass, tucking it behind Adam’s ear. “Forgive an old lady for talking nonsense. You are as pure as that daisy, and I shouldn’t spoil you with sad tales. Did you know that flowers have meaning?”
    Adam shook his head, the movement involving his whole body twisting from side to side.
    “Would you like to know more about the language of flowers?”
    The language of flowers? They could talk? The idea intrigued him, and he nodded vigorously.
    “If you go to the big bookcase in the lounge, you will see the Tales of Faerie and Myth on one of the shelves. Beside that is a green book entitled Floriography: The Language of Flowers – it’s written in gold, and has lots of pictures of flowers embossed on the spine. Can you fetch it for me, please?”
    He darted inside, with Ada calling after him: “Be careful, it’s very heavy.”
    It was, but nowhere near as heavy as the fairy tale book. He was able to carry it, bending backwards with the effort and tottering only slightly as he exited through the French doors and re-entered the garden.
    “People have used flowers as symbols for hundreds and hundreds of years, but it became particularly popular with Victorians,” Ada explained. “Social niceties meant it was sometimes hard for them to say what they wanted, especially when they loved someone, so they would say it with flowers instead.”
    Adam did not always understand what his gran was telling him but he loved to hear her anyway. He always felt soothed. He went to sit cross-legged on the floor.
    “Get another deckchair, dear, you’ll see better then,” insisted Gran.
    Sat side-by-side, they pored over the thick, hard-backed book, and Adam learned about a whole new language that did not involve speech. He loved the idea.
     
    ***
     
    PRESENT DAY
     
    Rain trickles down the kitchen window, but in the distance Mike can see sunshine trying