Ivy Lane: Autumn: Read Online Free PDF

for his hand then. I wished I had. How long had it been since someone had held Alf’s hand?
    I covered the back of his hand with mine and saw something sticking out from his closed palm. I tweaked it and with a bit of tugging managed to pull out a screwed-up photograph. I smoothed it out on the skirt of my nurse’s uniform. It was a picture of him with his arm round Celia, the two of them standing outside the shed, beaming at the camera.
    My eyes let go of their tears and I sobbed.
    The thought of Alf spending his last moments alone were so sad. But I supposed that he hadn’t been. Not really. Celia had been with him, smiling up at him from that photograph. In my heart of hearts I knew that that was what he would have wanted. The last face he saw would have been the one he loved more than any other. His last thoughts would have been happy ones. The relief was overwhelming.
    By the time the paramedics arrived, I was in a bit of a trance. I let go of Alf’s hands and stood aside. Two of them. A man and a woman.
    ‘You, er, his nurse, love?’ said the man, kneeling down in front of Alf and unzipping a large nylon bag.
    My outfit was from eBay. Most of the nurse’s uniforms had not been appropriate for school, but I’d found a blue one that came to the knee, had a mock apron printed on the front and a pretend fob watch pinned to my chest. The crowning glory was a floppy headpiece with a red cross on the front, probably crushed now from the weight of my cycle helmet.
    I shook my head. ‘A friend.’
    The two of them exchanged looks.
    At any other time, I’d have been mortified.
    I turned away to Alf’s workbench to give him his dignity while the paramedics carried out their checks and noticed a spade and fork leaning up against the worktop. Unheard of; every tool in Alf’s shed had its own special hook. A place for everything and everything in its place – I’d heard him say it enough times.
    Then I saw it: an envelope with my name on it propped up on a box of tomato food. This must have been what he wanted to give me. I recognised Alf’s hesitant writing in pencil. He always used a short chubby pencil, sharpened with his pocket knife, to write names on plant labels.
    Should I open it? Was I even allowed to touch it?
    The paramedics were lifting Alf onto a stretcher and weren’t paying me any attention. It
did
have my name on it. I inserted a finger under the flap, it wasn’t stuck down and I took the letter out.
    He had written it all in uppercase as usual, with the first letter of each sentence bigger than the others.
    Tilly,
    I’m hanging up my gardening gloves for good at Ivy Lane, but I shall be popping back to check up on you! I’m trusting you with my Celia’s tools. They are old but there’s plenty of dig in them yet if you look after them like I showed you. You’re a grand girl, Tilly, and it’s done my old heart good seeing you come out of your shell this year. Keep it up, lass.
    Alf
    PS No need to thank me, but I’m always partial to a bit of cake!
    I brushed the tears away and looked at the spade, wrapping my fingers around the smooth wooden handle, worn thinner in the middle from years and years of digging. Celia’s tools. What a lovely gift. From a lovely, lovely man.
    The female paramedic put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’
    I nodded. And in a strange way, I was all right. Because seeing Alf like this, so at peace at the end of his days, had shown me that death didn’t have to be violent and bloody and shocking; sometimes it could be peaceful and calm and the perfect way to end a happy life.
    By the time Alf’s body had been transferred to the back of the ambulance and I had given what details I could to the paramedics, Nigel had arrived.
    I filled him in about Alf, adding ‘Don’t ask,’ when I caught him eyeing my nurse’s uniform.
    It was only eight thirty; it felt like I’d been here hours. I had the whole day ahead of me still. As soon as the thought