Veronica had only just finished rinsing the plates from the cake and wiping the ring of chocolate milk from the table when she heard giggling and commotion from the front of the house. Audrey and Layla came barrelling through the door together. A far cry from the way Audrey usually acted around Layla, detached yet polite; now they were thick as thieves and Veronica saw a warmer side to her granddaughter that she wished Audrey would show more. Although she was one to talk: she’d found smiling difficult when Audrey first came to stay, not knowing whether it was welcome or not, and her first attempts at talking to a teenager had been as tentative as if Audrey had come from another planet, Veronica feeling unsure of the best way to communicate with her. But now, watching the animation on Audrey’s face, it seemed like the barriers were lowering enough from each of them to make a difference. Veronica only wished those barriers wouldn’t spring back up every time Sam was around.
‘Put everything in here.’ Veronica opened up the plastic carrier bag and held it out for them. ‘What’s so funny?’
Audrey was laughing so hard she even had tears forming as she shoved the dirty crisp packets, chocolate wrappers and a piece of discarded foil into the bag. ‘Her…she’s hilarious.’
‘Layla?’ She did her best not to stare at Audrey. It was good to see her laugh.
Audrey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘I went over to help her because she was taking ages and when some kid left the swings, he dropped his crisp packet. Layla, hands on hips, demanded he pick it up. Bossy little thing.’
‘But he was naughty,’ Layla insisted as she too pushed everything she’d collected into the bag.
‘It was the way you said it,’ laughed Audrey. ‘You sounded eighty, not eight.’
Veronica could well imagine. Layla definitely wasn’t shy, especially if telling someone they were doing the wrong thing. ‘You be careful, you never know who you’re picking on,’ she warned.
‘I had her back.’ Audrey pushed a dirty plaster and a cigarette butt into the bag. ‘I’m taking gloves if we do that again.’ She pulled a face but Veronica noticed she wasn’t entirely displeased at being involved. Maybe everyone needed other people, no matter how much they acted like they didn’t.
‘Go wash your hands, both of you,’ Veronica urged. ‘Revolting what some people leave behind. Do not touch anything until you’re clean.’ She binned the refuse after tying the bag up tight.
Audrey squirted a generous amount of soap onto her own hand and then some onto Layla’s. Audrey and Layla, who stood on tiptoes, battled for the tap like two young siblings eager to be first every time. Watching them reminded Veronica of what she’d once had but had lost, through nobody’s fault but her own.
‘Gran…Gran…’ Audrey’s voice pierced into her thoughts. ‘You should wash your hands too. I saw you pushing the rubbish into the bag before you tied it up. Here…’ She held out the soap canister and when Veronica put her hands out, squirted a generous blob.
Veronica worked up a good lather and even used the nail brush she used if she’d been tending the pot plants lined up on the windowsill. ‘That was an awful lot of rubbish,’ she remarked if only to distract the pair from the emotional pull she’d just felt. ‘Did you really pick it all up in the playground across the road?’
‘It was in bushes,’ Layla reported. ‘Some of it might have been there years. I found bits beside a tree, a few other items under the roundabout.’
‘You be careful fossicking around in these places.’ You never knew whether there might be glass or worse, a needle, although in this little village she never saw much out of the ordinary. At least she hadn’t the last time she ventured beyond the garden gate.
Herman had never understood Veronica’s condition and he’d never tried to either. His way of coping was to deny there was a problem, carry on as normal and yell at her or ridicule her when she behaved in a way he couldn’t fathom. She’d kept her nursing job as long as she could until the mayhem and the people became too much for her to handle. Veronica often wondered, if she’d had Herman’s support, whether she’d have been able to get on top of her problem before it was too late, before Sam had pulled away and Veronica did something she’d never ever forgive herself for. You were supposed to be there for your children no matter what, and she hadn’t been, had she?
But there was no use living on what-ifs. Not now. Perhaps being trapped inside these walls was her comeuppance for what she’d done.
Veronica watched Layla take out her pencil case from her backpack, find a felt-tip and cross out ‘Litter Picking’ from the kindness calendar. ‘You’re done with that now, are you?’
‘I’ll pick up more but I can still cross this off. Mrs Haines says that even after we’ve crossed off an item, we can keep doing it; our kindness doesn’t have to have a start and an end.’
‘Your Mrs Haines is instilling some good life lessons with her students.’ Veronica wholly approved. Kindness didn’t have to be measured with a start line or an end goal, it was something to carry with you throughout life. Charlie should congratulate himself at having a daughter who really got it despite her young years. He’d done a far better job at parenting than
