I admitted to more nerves than I'd first realised as the train pulled into Blackpool North station. Fortunately the journey to Bath Spa and the subsequent train ride had been trouble free, but as I stepped from the train, I found my nerves growing by the minute. I'd never met my paternal grandmother (at least not to my knowledge), so I had no idea what to expect.
But I put my worries aside and focused on one thing; getting out of the station. I knew my grandmother was waiting for me, and I kept my eyes peeled as I made my way through the concourse, single suitcase in my hand. It contained just enough clothing and unmentionables to get through one week, but my grandmother had promised to buy more clothes and other essentials. I was a bit worried, remembering Sarah's thieving ways, but I reminded myself, as I scanned the crowd, that here, I'd have nothing to worry about. None of my personal belongings would get stolen.
"Charlie!"
I turned as I heard my name being called, and sighed in relief when I spotted my grandmother. She was holding up a sign with my name on it, and though I felt a bit awkward when she hugged me, I soon relaxed in her embrace, knowing that I was finally safe. She kept the hug short, though, and I was grateful for her understanding when she let go. "It's been a while," I said.
My grandmother chuckled. "It's been almost eighteen years, in fact," she said, taking my suitcase and tucking her arm through mine. "Now, come along. We've got a bit of shopping to do, and a spot of afternoon tea. How does that sound?"
"That sounds divine," I said. Lunch had come and gone, and though the sandwiches had been delightful, I was definitely on the peckish side. And in sore need of a tea.
My grandmother nodded. "Then come along, young lady," she said, and I had to laugh as she whisked me - at a more sedate pace, of course - through the station.
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According to my grandmother (who insisted I call her by name, since in her words she was "too young" to be a grandmother), parking in Blackpool was a nightmare. So we caught the bus to North Pier, before taking the tram into the town proper. It was, in short, a wonderful experience, and I was in awe as we made our way along the seafront. We hadn't had the luck of catching one of the famous balloon trams, but we did spy a few rattling past us in the other direction. "They only run on weekends, bank holidays, and some weekdays," my grandmother said. "Oh, and also during the Blackpool Illuminations. You've come just at the right time, dear."
I was definitely impressed. "Can we go see them?" I asked eagerly.
"Of course," my grandmother said, sounding surprised. She chuckled and gave my arm an affectionate pat. "You need not fear I'm going to be like my other granddaughter. She's as rotten to the core as they come, and considering her father, I'm honestly not surprised."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
My grandmother sighed as she pressed the "next stop" button. "I'll tell you all about it when we get home," she said. "But have you heard of the Whitewaters?"
"Who hasn't?" I said sourly.
"They've changed greatly," my grandmother promised me. "But in their heyday, they were rotten to the core, and in more ways than one. But let's not darken our day just yet, dear."
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Fair enough," I agreed.
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After a wonderful afternoon spent wandering the town (and getting in some serious shopping), we caught the tram to Fleetwood. I was surprised to find my grandmother didn't actually live in Blackpool itself, but I supposed that Uncle Perry hadn't wanted to disclose her true location just in case any of my former pack tried to find me. But Fleetwood itself was gorgeous, and though the temperatures here were much cooler, I didn't mind too much, and when I saw my grandmother's house for the first time, I forgot about everything else. "Is that a lighthouse?" I exclaimed, as we came into view.
My grandmother chuckled. "It is indeed," she said. "But it hasn't been working for some time. Still, the views are magnificent, though I won't make you climb up all those stairs, dear."
I shrugged. "As long as we go slow, I wouldn't mind," I said.
"Then we'll do that tomorrow," my grandmother promised.
The cottage attached to the lighthouse was much more palatable to my aching foot in any case, and I sighed in relief when I saw my room. Located at the back of the cottage, it had a single bed, and two large windows facing north and west, allowing for plenty of sunshine during the day. White curtains with yellow flowers added a nice touch, as did the round woolen rug on the floor. A free-standing wardrobe proved to have more than enough room for my new clothes, and the two white blankets on the bed looked positively cosy. And through a sneaky little door to one side was my very own bathroom and toilet. It had been added to the cottage after the lighthouse had been decomissioned, and I was almost in tears at the blessed level of privacy I would now have. There was no bathub, but the shower more than made up for it, and the shower curtains were covered in ocean motifs, which contrasted nicely with the pale green and blue tiles.
"Now," my grandmother said, once the tour had been concluded and we were sitting in the kitchen with a pot of tea on the table. "House rules. I expect you to keep your room tidy, and make sure your bed is made neatly every day. And we'll take turns at doing the dishes. Is that fair?"
I nodded. "That's very fair," I agreed.
My grandmother nodded. "I also expect you to be prompt for mealtimes," she said. "Oh, and I won't say anything about the secret stash of butternut snaps in the pantry if you won't, just so long as they don't run out."
I grinned. "I can promise you I'll keep the non-existent butternut snaps replenished," I promised.
"Good." My grandmother sat back in her chair. "And though I am a generous woman, I am on a pension. I can keep us comfortably, but there will be additional expenses now that you've taken up residence. I won't ask you to work full time, but a part time job, I think, would be very suitable."
"I can do that," I said. "I can start looking tomorrow."
My grandmother nodded. "I know I might seem hard," she said, "but I do have standards."
"I know," I said. "But trust me; your standards are far less troublesome than Ben's or Sarah's."
"They are two very rotten people," my grandmother agreed. "I'm glad you understand, dear. I didn't want to make it seem I was coming down on you like a ton of bricks, but I'm sure you appreciate where I'm coming from."
"I do," I said, "and I'm very grateful." I hesitated. "I know you said to call you by name," I said, "but ... can I call you Grandma instead?"
My grandmother thought about it. "How about you call me GiGi?" she suggested. "Your father called my mother that as a baby, and her name was Gina, so it fit. And my name is Giselle, so I can't see why that wouldn't work."
I grinned again. "Thanks, GiGi," I said. It actually felt nice calling her that, since her name and my great-grandmother's name were so similar.
GiGi smiled. "Now," she said, "it's very nearly dinner time. I've got a nice roast on, and there may even be some apple pie afterwards. Have you any food preferences or allergies?"
I shook my head. "Not to my knowledge," I said.
"Just in case, I do have one rule when it comes to food," GiGi said. "It's the 'try it once' rule. All my children were asked to try something new just once, and if they didn't like it, they weren't made to eat it again. I do hope you're willing to do the same?"
"Definitely," I said.
It was odd, but GiGi's rules felt more fair, and as I helped her set the table, I realised that life here was going to be very, very pleasant indeed. I had a caring grandmother, and I had a new home. I was missing one foot, to be sure, but it was, in truth, small beans compared to the freedoms I now would enjoy here in Fleetwood.
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