On Saturday, Mum drives Luke round to Grandad’s house as usual so he can look after the pigeons. She has cleaned the whole house by now, top to bottom. She picks flowers to go in the blue china jug on the kitchen table. Luke makes pancakes for them both for breakfast.
“I wish Grandad were here,” he says.
“Me too,” Mum says.
“Couldn’t we bring him home and look after him?”
Mum sighs. “It would be nicer for him,” she says.
Luke talks to the pigeons while he gives them some corn. “What do you think? Grandad might get better if he came back home, don’t you think?”
“Croo, croo,” they say.
When they get to the hospital ward, Luke and Mum have a shock. Grandad isn’t there.
A nurse walks over. Her shoes make a squeaky sound on the floor. “Mrs Taylor?” she says.
“Yes?” Mum says. “Where’s my dad?” Her voice sounds panicky. Luke feels his heart beating faster, too.
“We’ve moved him,” the nurse says, “to his own room, to give him a bit of peace and quiet.” The nurse looks at Luke, and then at Mum. “Can I have a private word?” she says.
Luke watches them talking together. He feels sad and heavy inside.
He knows where the single rooms are. He goes to find Grandad by himself.
Grandad doesn’t look like Grandad any more. His eyes are sunken and dull. His skin seems paper thin, and his bony hand on the sheet is curved like a claw.
“Luke?” Grandad whispers. “Thank goodness you’ve come.” A tear rolls down one of his papery cheeks.
“What is it, Grandad?” Luke touches his hand, even though he feels scared.
“Take me home,” Grandad whispers. “Please.”
Mum arrives at the door. She puts sweet peas she’s brought from the garden close to Grandad’s face so he can smell them. For a second, something like a smile hovers on his lips.
“We’ve got to take Grandad home,” Luke says.
“Yes,” Mum says. “I’ve already told the nurse that’s what we’re going to do.”
Luke and Mum go first, to get everything ready, and then an ambulance brings Grandad. The ambulance men carry Grandad inside. They tuck him into bed on the sofa in the front room, so he doesn’t have to go upstairs.
Mum goes back to the flat to fetch clothes for her and Luke.
“We need to move in here for a while to take care of Grandad,” she explains.
Luke hugs her. “Good. We should have done that ages ago,” he says.
Mum laughs. “Grandad wouldn’t have let us! He loved being on his own, in his own place, doing exactly what he wanted. Just him, and those blessed pigeons, of course!”
From his sofa bed, Grandad can glimpse a square of sky and when Luke lets the pigeons out for a fly around, he can hear the beating of their wings.
He smiles, weakly. “That’s better,” he says.
He sleeps most of the time. Luke understands that Grandad is tired out. Tired of living, now.
“I’ve had a good life,” Grandad says. “Time to go, soon.”
It makes Luke feel very sad. Sunday evening, Luke carries Queenie and Silver into the house, so Grandad can say goodbye to his favourite pigeons. The birds nestle on Grandad’s knees, on the blanket, and he smoothes their feathers with his hand.
“Time for me to take flight,” he whispers to them.