Small Angels by Lauren Owen

Author:Lauren Owen [Owen, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

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Grandpa didn’t come home for a long time. The stroke brought pneumonia in its wake, and he didn’t seem to be making good progress. When the pneumonia tired of him at last, he went from the hospital to a care home, where he was supposed to be rehabilitated. He stayed there for months.

On the rare occasions when we saw Nan long enough for proper conversation, she seemed irritated with him.

“Not enough go to him,” she said once. “He’d be back with us by now if he put his mind to it. Strong man like your grandfather, hardly past sixty. He’s got no business struggling like this.”

He could speak and move again, though only with great effort. Nan said he remembered most of what had happened up to the night of the frost lanterns. But, as far as I could tell, he didn’t mention Harry, and he didn’t mention me.

Every time Nan returned from hospital, or rang Ruby with further orders, I waited in torment to see if this would be the time it was all uncovered. But nothing changed, the poison stayed buried.

It was probably a mercy that during that time, we were usually too busy to think.

May and June were a growing time in the vineyard. You could see a change almost every day, and when the vines were active so were we, trying our best to manage without Nan and Grandpa. I hadn’t realized how much of the work they shouldered before that time. We’d be outside for the greater part of each day.

I mostly remember exhaustion, in those months of late spring and summer. No sooner was the shoot thinning done than we went out one morning and found that the vines were flowering—tiny, unimpressive blooms that meant absolutely everything. Then came fruit set, and more growing and growing—don’t you get tired like us, I wanted to ask them—and then we were tying vines to the trellises, working one to a row, speaking only if someone needed help or was planning a drinks run.

Ruby tried to make things pleasanter for us, picking up cans and snacks, things Nan wouldn’t approve of. But Dad quickly put a stop to that. Extravagance, he said. She wouldn’t like it. No use arguing when he said that. I had wondered if he might relax a fraction whilst Nan was away, but if anything he seemed more feverishly obedient than ever during this time.

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