#FridayFlash – The Empty Seat

“You can’t sit there, that’s your granddad’s seat.”

Every visit, without fail, my grandmother would usher me out of the comfy armchair by the window, and direct me to a hard wooden chair by the bookcase. Mealtimes were the same – the padded seat at the head of the table remained vacant, its place set with cutlery and an unused mug, and I couldn’t stop myself staring at the empty place. If I squinted hard, I sometimes thought I could see a figure sitting there.

I couldn’t remember my grandfather, but my mum always told me he’d have found my grandmother’s behaviour “quirky”. “We all know he’s gone, love, but she can’t quite let him go yet,” she’d say. My dad sometimes teased Gran about it, and she’d threaten to withhold pudding after dinner, but there was always sadness behind her good-natured smile.

I was fifteen when my grandmother left us to join my grandfather. As their only child, it fell to my mother to sort out their house. Mum did most of it herself, but eventually she took me with her to help pick up the last few things that were ready to go into storage. We arrived at the house in the morning, and it felt strange walking into the front hall without my grandmother greeting us, or reminding me to take my shoes off. The house felt hollow. Mum squeezed my shoulder and directed me into the living room while she put the kettle on.

Most of the furniture had gone, donated to the local council or sold on to the students in the area, except for one thing. Granddad’s chair still sat beside the window, the only thing Mum couldn’t really bear to part with. Without thinking, I eased into the armchair, feeling the comforting hollow that once held my grandfather. He’d drunk tea, eaten snacks, watched television, and slept in this chair. In a way, it was as much a part of him as anything else in the house.

“I wish I’d known you, Granddad. I bet you’d have had some brilliant stories about Gran,” I said, patting the arm of the chair.

A faint chuckle at the door made me start, and I looked up, expecting to see my grandmother ready to scold me for sitting in the wrong seat. Instead, I saw a shadow move across the wall and out into the hallway. A giggle replied to the chuckle, so quiet it was as if I heard it from miles away.

Mum came in with two cups of tea. She perched on the arm of the chair beside me.

“It’s funny, you know. I could have sworn I heard your gran laughing in the hall about something.”

“I heard something too.”

Mum smiled and put her arm around me.

“I think they’ve found each other again. But come on, drink up, and let’s get the last of this into the car. We’ve got to find a space for this old thing in the living room, though God knows how we’ll convince the cat it can’t sit here.”