An Unexpected Surprise

"Who's handwriting is that?"

"Don't know." My Dad took the envelope from my mum and turned it in his hands. "It doesn't look much like a card. That's not a Birthday card envelope."

He handed it to me. It wasn't weighted and it was flexible. This time of year I received cards by the bucket, it's all a part of having a large family, and each one had an identifiable hand writing. There's the coarseness of my Grandmother on my Mother's side, then there's the fairytale flick of my Auntie on my Father's side who also writes the cards from my their mother. While I'm normally oblivious to all of this, this particular card had peeked my attention.

"Should I open it?" It was ten days until my birthday and opening cards prematurely was sacrilege in this household.

"I don't think it's a birthday card." Mum said over the whistling of the Kettle.

So I ran my fingers under the corner, that childish excitement  filling me as the paper tore apart. My eyes lit up as I saw inside.

***

The pub was homely but new, the furnishings still crisp and clean, the hand dryers still so powerful they could burn the hands they might dry. It was friendly, the service was impeccable, from the specials to the wine list and the banter at the table they were brilliant. I ordered a bottle of Chablis and tried to explain grape varieties and regions to my Nanna. She concentrated hard but eventually gave up, turning to my brother and asking him about his school. My Granddad, jovial as ever gibed me on, "Tastes like grapes."

I shook my head in mock dismay and then my Dad joined in.

"I'm getting . . ." He rolled the glass under his tongue ". . . pissed."

My brother then broke from his conversation to remind my Dad he wasn't Lee Mack and that joke wasn't funny the last three times he had told it, in the same situation, possibly at the same table.

The waitress came over and cleared the coffee's and my Granddad took the bill. He laughed and joked with the waitress and flirted a little, he was so alive. Come the end of it he tipped generously and the poor girl had been lumped with some promotional offer and handed it over to me.

"There y'are, Lad. You're the expert." And he put his arm around me and I realised he wasn't mocking me at all. I felt the pride in the weight of that arm and took the little quiz from his other. I filled in my details.

***

The image washed over me. The front of the Fox and Goose. Inside just Happy Birthday and some printed offers on the back. My Granddad might as well have put the card in my hand himself, my head flushed. It was almost a year since I had said goodbye, but he still wasn't saying it back.

Funny isn't it really, how a simple thing like being nice to a waitress, can come back and reward you in a way you never thought of. You don't get anything for free. In life you get what you give. Thanks Granddad. That's one lesson I'll never forget.