Caroline parked the car in the little street she only knew too well. She locked the car and opened one of the black iron gates to let herself in. She took a moment to settle herself down and breathe. Everything was as it had always been, yet the house wasn’t the same to her any more. Her grand-mother had gone.
Climbing the worn stone steps, she reached the terrace, walking on the terracotta tiles still shining with their copper-coloured lustre. A lump formed in her throat. How many meals had they all had there surrounded by purple wisteria in their bed of green leaves, the adults on one side and the kids on the other.
Caroline grabbed the big ornate iron key from her bag and opened the front door. Everywhere on the walls were reminders of her grand-mother, paintings, some ancestors’ daguerreotypes, wooden statues and unusual artifacts she had collected all her life. Closing her eyes, Caroline could almost hear the adults’ conversation over drinks in the room on the left and the laughter of the children playing in the rumpus room on the right. With fondness, she remembered the games they played. That’s also where they watched the landing on the moon all huddled in front of a black and white TV set, watching history in the making.
Opening her eyes, she proceeded to go to the kitchen with its large oak cabinet. In the middle, there were three drawers, one for paper, scissors and string, one with all her cook books and one with cutlery. Reaching in the middle drawer, she found the chocolate cake recipe, written in her cursive script with a butter stain on the right-hand side. That had always been her favourite. Tears came to her eyes, a mixture of sadness and joy at all the wonderful memories they had shared.
Upstairs she stopped at her room, with the four wooden beds almost identical and their black little side tempest lamp. She peered out the smaller gable window onto the garden below and the water beyond. With a gentle pull, the lake was calling her.
When she reached the jetty, she was in awe with the beauty of the scene in front of her. She could see the castle in the mist on the other side with majestic mountains as a backdrop. The lake vested in a deep hue of blue was appealing, refreshing no doubt. Her grand-mother even in her nineties, would come down and have a short swim round the jetty, her feet almost above the water, as she slowly breast-stroked. The sweet taste of the water flowing on her skin made her heart sing.
Out of the water, she would put her bathrobe back on. See, her grand-mother was a lady, not in title of course, but her demeanour had always been that of a smart elegant gentlewoman, dressed to the nines before going on errands. The water lapping on the shore brought Caroline out of her reverie. The white swans gracefully swimming over the clear water, pressed their young forward, with an ever-watchful eye.
This was the last time that Caroline was to see this piece of heaven. The house was sold. Yet the memories were etched on her heart forever.