Mark pulled up outside the Farmer’s Boy. The old pub looked exactly the same as it had when he first visited it. His mind did a quick calculation. That must have been twelve years ago. Crikey, where had the time gone? As he locked the car, he felt a ripple of pleasurable anticipation course through his body. He was almost embarrassed to be smiling. After all, he was only going to meet his granddad. As a thirty-year-old man, he should be reserving these sensations for something more important than lunch with an eighty-year-old codger. He dismissed this thought immediately. He was being unfair to both to himself and to his granddad, who certainly was not an old codger.
Granddad was a rock in his life. He had been there for him when he needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen to him without censure, making judgements or offering advice. Unburdening himself to this gentle old man was a cathartic experience and it seemed that he provided wisdom and clarity through some magical, silent osmosis. Just to observe those wise perceptive eyes and the understanding nod of the head had eased many of his challenging problems. Mark’s father had died when he was in his mid-teens and this had caused his mother to withdraw into her own shell until she had become a silent witness in his life. It was when he returned from his first term at university that she had told him that his granddad wanted to meet up with him for lunch at the pub in the nearby village where he lived. Mark had gone along, not knowing what to expect and had been surprised not only at how much he had enjoyed the experience but how relaxed he had felt with the old chap. He suddenly found he could talk about things that really mattered to him: his father’s death, the hole that this had created in his life and the worries and concerns he had about his academic life. His granddad nodded sagely, puffing on his pipe, his fine grey eyes focused on him.
And so began the tradition. A week before Christmas they would meet up in the Farmer’s Boy and have their lunch together. It was almost like a Christmas present to Mark. He knew that whatever was on his mind, he could talk about it to his granddad.
The interior of the Farmer’s Boy was cosy, quaint and idyllic. A real coal fire blazed in the hearth, a brightly decorated Christmas tree stood twinkling in the corner and a string of fairy lights decorated the bar area. Mark saw his granddad sitting in his usual place at the table in the corner, leaning back on his chair with an untouched pint of beer before him. At first glance Mark thought that he looked just the same. A little paler and thinner perhaps but not much changed. But on closer inspection, Mark could see that the old man appeared frailer than he had been last year. This was probably due to the serious illness he had suffered in the summer. But nevertheless, his eyes were as bright and keen as ever. As he turned and smiled at his grandson, Mark felt an overwhelming sense of affection for the man.
Mark bought himself a drink and joined his granddad. He was eager to tell him all about Rebecca and how he thought, at last, he’d found the one. She had seemed to come into his life from out of nowhere, but almost immediately he had realised that this was the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. After greeting the old man and wishing him a merry Christmas, Mark launched into his recital about Rebecca: how they had met, how beautiful and how intelligent she was, how supportive and how much he cared for her. In his joy and excitement, the words tumbled from him.
‘I want to marry her,’ he said at last. ‘More than anything.’
The old man’s eyes twinkled, his thin lips parted gently into a warm smile and he gave a gracious nod of the head.
Mark knew that this was his seal of approval. That was all he needed. He beamed broadly, his heart full of joy.
When the bill came, Mark pulled out his credit card before checking the details. They were handwritten on a notepad bearing the pub’s name and logo: ‘Christmas Lunch for One – £20.’ The harsh reality of that statement brought a chill to his bones and he stared with great sadness at the empty chair across the table from him.