Celia was sick in bed with the flu. She rather liked being sick in bed because she had a mother who used to work in a hospital and loved working with sick people. Celia's mother would bring her hot milk with honey, scrambled eggs with toast and orange boats, and would come and talk to her kindly. The sunshine would come in through the windows of the big room and Celia would feel much better.
(Incase you were wondering where Celia's father was, he was away on business in Kenya.)
"Fishcakes for lunch," said Nana cheerfully in her sweet singsong voice on the telephone before Celia and her mother left.
Celia longed for those fishcakes Those were the food she wished for most in the world. Nana made them with canned fish and mashed potatoes, patted all round with her hands and dipped in breadcrumbs.
Nana lived in a tiny bungalow on a quiet road in the country. There was a coalshed out the back and a vegetable garden. She wore a glorious dress and had a Morris Minor in the garage.
She arose at seven o'clock in the morning and made delicious porridge with milk and brown sugar. Swing music played on the radio.
She had two stoves, one electric and one coal-burning.
"I'm just going out to catch a shepherd," she said before she made the shepherd's pie, although Celia knew she was joking.
After the lunch, the three of them sat among the plants in the cozy armchairs in the conservatory. A conservatory is a sort of greenhouse attached to the back of the house. It is warm and has a sort of plant-smell like a greenhouse.
Everyone read. Celia read from a scintillating book called The Observer's Book Of British Grasses, Sedges and Rushes. Nana read a little book about old English village life. And Mother read medieval Welsh tales, in Welsh. She had been sent to live in Wales as a child. They were all so absorbed that they hardly noticed the time passing.
They went out for a walk. They walked along the sand dunes. Celia played with her doll, Sarah, and buried her legs in the sand, making her into a mermaid.
"Come on, Celia," cried Mother.
Celia grabbed Sarah and hurried after Mother and her grandmother.
When they came back, Nana showed Celia some of Auntie Mabel's drawings. Auntie Mabel had taken up art in her late seventies.
Everything seemed to be going well, until Celia accidentally got herself locked into Nana's bathroom. Celia had locked the door with a key and, being young, she wasn't used to keys. She cried and banged on the door until someone came to help her.
"Are you locked in?" came her mother's voice through the door.
"Yes," whimpered Celia, very tearfully.
"Well, I'll get you out then," said Mother. "Don't worry." She went to get Nana.
Time passed and Celia gazed at the beautiful faux-marble wall tiles. Mother and Nana returned. Nana had a sheet of newspaper which she slid under the door.
"Put the key on the newspaper, pet," said Nana kindly.
Celia did as requested. Nana slid the newspaper with the key on it towards herself under the door. She unlocked the door from the outside and Celia was free.
One day, Nana asked Celia to pick a treat for her to make.
Celia thought about it for a minute. Then she said, with an air of importance
"Let me look through the Larousse," - a cookery encyclopaedia. "...Vacherin with a crown of meringue," she said imperiously after looking.
Nana rolled her eyes, but she took the time to prepare it - and was it good!
"Thank you, Nana. That was very kind," said Celia afterwards and kissed her on the cheek. "You know what I love about you, Nana? I love your fishcakes, your bungalow in the country, your coal-shed and your vegetable garden, your gorgeous dresses and the time you get up, your porridge and your swing music. I love your stoves and your shepherd's pie, your conservatory and your drawings by Mummy's aunt."
"Time for bed, dear," said Mother.
Mother put Celia to bed.
"What I love most about Nana is she has love," said Celia snuggling down under the blanket and going to sleep. Celia felt better and went home the next day.
THE END
