Leon tapped on the door. No answer. He knocked louder; Grandpa was a bit deaf. Still no response, so he opened the door and peered in. There was the old man, hunched on a large armchair with a checked woollen blanket tucked round his knees. He was thinner than Leon remembered, and his eyes lit up at the sight of a visitor. ‘I thought I heard someone. Is that you, Leon?’

‘Yeah, it’s me, Grandpa.’

‘Come on in.’

The room was as bland as a motel suite. Leon hoped never to live in a place like this, but Grandpa didn’t seem to mind. After Grandma died, years ago, he hadn’t coped on his own, so he’d moved in here where his meals were cooked and his washing was done and there was help if he needed it. It suited him, Leon supposed.

Grandpa was chuffed to see him and kept shaking his head. ‘It’s been a long time. Come closer, boy. Let me have a look at you.’ He examined Leon through Coke-bottle glasses. ‘You haven’t grown any.’

Leon smiled. ‘You didn’t break any height records either.’

‘No, and now I’m shrinking. Just you wait—it’s all ahead of you.’ Grandpa sniffed. ‘Still got your red hair.’

‘Yep. Walker through and through.’

Inspection over, Grandpa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you here? Has somebody died?’

‘No. I just came to see you.’

‘What for? Do you want to talk about my will?’

‘I’m being sociable.’

‘Ha!’ the old man barked. ‘Nobody comes to be sociable.’

‘I do. I’m turning a new page. Starting today.’

Grandpa grunted. ‘Come to check me out, have you? Your mother says you’ve developed an interest in old people lately. It’s about time. Can’t remember the last time I saw you.’

Leon sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Yeah, sorry. I’ve been slack.’

‘I hear you’ve got a new job. Working in forests? Better be careful. It’s dangerous.’

‘You did it for years.’

‘I was lucky. Survived some near misses. Your father wasn’t so lucky, though. If he hadn’t hurt his hand, he’d still be working.’ He paused. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Sure,’ Leon said, ‘why not?’

Grandpa’s face creased into a grin. ‘Good. You can make it. Jug’s in the bathroom, and the tea bags are on that chest of drawers. I’ll have one too. Tea always tastes better when it’s made by someone else.’