Tea With Grandma
The room was warm with candlelight, despite the icy wind that shook the windows and rained leaves on the roof.
In the centre of the room Frances knelt by a low table, setting a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits in front of a photo of an elderly woman. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer.
When Frances opened her eyes the elderly woman, barely more substantial than the steam rising from the cup, was sitting in the armchair, cup in hand, dipping a biscuit in the tea.
“I wondered when you’d call me. You’re older than I expected you would be.”
“I found your journals.”
Grandma laughed. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.” She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Perfect.” She looked at Frances. “It’s been so long since I had a cup of tea, you have no idea how much good that’s doing me.”
Frances was still sitting in the middle of the room. “Grandma, I-“
“I know, I know. You want to learn to read tea leaves-“
“No.” Frances shook her head. “Zachary, my son, he has a school project on his family history.” She unfolded a piece of paper. “I have some questions-”
“I can teach you love potions, and money drawing spells, and how to hex your enemies, and you want to know about the past?” Grandma set her cup back in the saucer with a clunk. “The past is dead and gone. It’s the present you need to be worrying about-“
“He’d just like to know how you met Grandad.”
Grandma set the tea on the arm of the chair and stood. “You want family history, go the library. Don’t disturb my rest for such twaddle.”
With a flicker of candles Grandma was gone.