Where We Call Home

Hannah sat on the bed and looked around the room - it was by no means perfectly tidy, but it was still a comforting place to be in a lived-in sort of way. There were a few plants dotted around the room, which could have been looked after a little better, but seem to survive regardless. The top of the chest of drawers had a few of her Mum’s favourite products - the extravagant body lotion that she only used on the weekends to try and preserve it, a few bits of jewellery, and a single photograph of her wedding day. Hannah knew her Mum couldn’t bring herself to move it.

It felt strange being there, without her Mum. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried not to picture her in her hospital bed - the hospital bed that she hadn’t been able to visit because of the pandemic. She tried not to think about the debts growing day by day, with Mum being too poorly to work and Dad no longer here. When Hannah opened her eyes, she caught the clock out of the corner of her eye and swore out loud, jumped up and ran downstairs, grabbing her belongings on the way. She fed the cat and gave her a quick fuss before making sure she locked up carefully and jogged up the path to her car.

Hannah arrived at her boss’ house and gently knocked, before letting herself in. The house was quiet. She slipped her shoes off and moved to the sink to wash her hands - a habit that had been built over the recent months that would probably never break.

“Hi Han, how are you doing?” Marie, the PA she was taking over from had come into the kitchen.

“Ah, you know - plodding along”, Hannah replied, with a small smile. A very British response. If she had been honest, she would have said;

“Bloody awful, actually. I don’t know whether my Mum will be able to come home, or even if she will have a house to come home to. I’m not sleeping, I’m forgetting to eat, all the while trying to keep myself well and able to do this job, caring for someone who needs me to be present, not just in body, but in mind too. I’m worried every day that I’m going to drop the ball somewhere. And I’m exhausted.”

But she didn’t say that.

“How’s he doing today?”, she asked Marie.

“He’s doing good - he’s slept well, and is still snoring away in fact. We did some work yesterday - he might want to pick it up today, so check with him at some point.”

“Okay, thanks. Right, you get going, I’ve got it from here.” Hannah said, gently but firmly. With this, she felt a shift in herself - her outside worries slipping away and her mind becoming focused on where she was and the job she was here to do.

She heard Jack stirring and went in to assist him in his morning routine.

Breakfast, medication, bathing, dressing. All these aspects of the role that at first, felt huge, but soon blended into the background of their relationship. All morning, music from the radio played, Hannah chatted away and Jack communicated with her in his way - over the years, she had learned to read his body, his signs, his sounds, and the two of them have happy conversations as the mundane tasks of the morning get completed.

Around mid-morning, she grabbed his letter-board from the coffee table and sat down next to him to plan the day. She asked him questions about what he wanted to do, to eat, if there’s anything he needed her to follow up on. He answered by pointing to letters on his letter-board, creating words, then sentences.

“Let’s get out, then lunch. Work later.”

What they could do outside of his home was limited because of the current restrictions - but whenever the weather allowed, getting out for a walk could completely alter the course of the day.

Today, especially so.

They walked up the lane behind Jack’s house. Hedgerows, brambles, birds singing - a small slice of the suburbs not covered in litter or polluted by cars. Not many people had access to this path, so it surprised Hannah when she saw something on the ground to the side of the path, nearly immersed in the hedgerow. She pointed it out to Jack, who motioned for her to pick it up. She brushed a couple of leaves away, and picked up a smallish, leather bound, faded black notebook with gold metal edging at each corner. The bookmark ribbon poking out of the bottom was frayed, and she could tell instantly without opening it that it had been well-used by somebody. Something told her not to open it there, in the lane, so she dropped it in her pocket and they carried on wandering, before turning back and heading home.

Hannah busied herself making lunch - her signature pasta dish that Jack had requested. The day rolled by and the book remained in her pocket, forgotten. A couple of hours of work were done and then the loose evening routine they followed together began. Tea, medication, settled on the sofa. It was only now Hannah’s mind started letting in the anxious thoughts about her Mum. She tried to put them out of her consciousness, but being still made this much harder than it was in the daytime. As well as she was able to read Jack, he could read her twenty times better, and she hoped that he didn’t pick up on how she was feeling.

Around 8 o’clock, Jack motioned to his letter-board.

“Black book.”

“Shall I grab it?”

He nodded, and Hannah nipped into the PA room where her bag and coat was. She quickly checked her phone for any news from the hospital - nothing. “No news is good news” she thought, as she headed back to the living room with the book.

Written in faded pencil was an address in the top right corner of the first page, in beautifully neat handwriting - part of her felt disappointed to have that information so readily, although she wasn’t sure why. The pages were yellowed and had that slightly brittle feel to them that aged paper tends to have. Jack nodded again, encouraging her to turn the pages. The book was full - absolutely full. The handwriting was the same as the script that the address was written in but much smaller, to allow every inch of space to be used. Hannah carefully thumbed through the pages, noticing a small date in the corner of each page, spanning from May 1939 through to October 1952.

“That book is part of someone's lifetime” Jack spelled.

It felt like an invasion to read the contents of the pages in any detail, but sentences and words slipped out -

“I wish I had told her there and then, exactly what she means to me.”

“I can’t quite believe this is happening again.”

“I’m missing home. And her. And our beautiful children. Even the bloody dog.”

Hannah and Jack looked at each other. And then, they made a plan. The following morning, she would start straight away to try and find the owner of this evidently, very precious, little black book.

They settled back into the evening and Hannah noticed thoughts of this book and its history intercepting the worried thoughts she was having.

The following morning, after their usual routine, they began their mission. She thanked Mr. Google silently as she typed in the address and saw it was not far away at all - a 20 minute drive to one of the neighbouring villages. Then, she searched for the phone number but couldn't find it anywhere.

“Probably ex directory” she mused to Jack. “What do you think? Fancy a drive?”

Jack smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

An hour or so later, they pulled up to an old stone cottage - double fronted, with an overgrown but still beautiful front garden, full of foxgloves, roses and wildflowers. She checked the path and saw it was overgrown and uneven. Jack motioned for her to open the window so he could hear, but that he would stay in the car.

“You sure?” she asked.

He nodded and told her with his eyes to get a move on.

She walked up the path and knocked gently on the door. She waited a few moments, and then knocked again, a little louder this time. The door opened, and behind it stood a petite blonde woman, probably around the same age as Hannah.

“Hello - can I help you?” she asked, with a curious expression on her face.

“Hi - I’m sorry to bother you - we tried to look for a phone number but we couldn’t find one. ‘We’ being me and my boss” said Hannah, as she moved aside so the woman could see the car and Jack.

“The reason we are here is that we found this whilst out walking yesterday” Hannah took the book out of her pocket and at the sight of it, the young woman’s eyes lit up and she broke into a wide smile.

“I can’t believe it! You have found it! That is my Grandad’s diary. We have been looking for it all over, since…”

Her expression fell and her eyes filled. Hannah sensed what had happened here and instantly went to touch the young woman's arm, before remembering, “these bloody restrictions” and stopped herself. The young woman sensed the gesture however, and smiled gratefully.

“I wish I could invite you in to tell you the story of this properly, but with everything how it is...”

“No, no I completely understand - we need to be going anyway. But I’m so glad we have been able to bring this back to you.”

“You have no idea. But before you go, I have to give you this. Grandad wanted to reward the person that brought this back to him, or as it turns out, to us - hold on.”

She disappeared into the house for a moment, and reappeared with an envelope. She offered it to Hannah.

“We can’t accept this - all we did was stumble across it, and return it as anyone else would have!” said Hannah, stepping back even further.

“But nobody else did. That’s the point! Please take it. It would break my heart if I wasn’t able to do as he wanted. Look, I have written my phone number on the back - I would love to have a proper conversation about this at some point. But for now, go, and take this with you. I am so grateful for you both - thank you.”

Later, back at the house, Hannah and Jack were sat together, looking at the envelope. Jack gestured with his eyes for her to open it.

She took a deep breath and opened the envelope carefully and slid out a single piece of paper. She turned it over - a cheque. For £20,000. Wide-eyed, she turned to Jack and he laughed at her slack-jawed expression. He gestured for the board -

“Not a bad day's work!” he spelled. “That’s for you Hannah. You found it.”

“Jack, don’t be ridiculous - I can’t take this!”

“No. You need it. Now. Ring your Mum.”

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She threw her arms around him, ran into the PA bedroom and grabbed her phone - five missed calls. Hannah’s stomach sank. Hands shaking, she returned the last call and waited for them to pick up. A nurse eventually answered.

“This is Hannah Fields, I have had a few missed calls. My Mum is on your ward.”

“Hello Miss Fields. Are you able to come in please?”

“Please, just tell me what’s happened.”

The blood rushing in her ears meant she was barely able to hear the nurses reply.

“She’s ready to go home.”

Hannah let out the breath she had been holding and sat down slowly on the bed, smiling with disbelief. Mum was coming home.