The Artist's Eye

Carly had always been observant, and she could tell all was not well with her great-aunt . . .

- Mhairi Grant

AS the water was poured over the baby’s head, Carly – the proud godparent to her little niece – looked at her assembled family.

It was then she noticed Gam, short for Great-aunt Maddie, had a tear running down her cheek. She had never seen Gam cry before.

Carly stood transfixed. Gam, the town’s first female mayor, who had regularly flown a biplane to do crop-spraying in Australia, and who had danced with Sean Connery, was crying!

“Did you notice Gam crying?” she asked her sister later at the christening tea.

“Really? That’s not like Gam.”

Gam had always been central to Carly’s life. Gam attended every family occasion, was supportive and generous and, above all, was always smiling and composed.

“Did you see Gam crying?” Carly asked her younger brother.

He frowned as if she wasn’t making sense.

“No. Gam’s normally sound.”

Coming from her brother, that was a compliment. Then both her siblings went on to talk about something else.

Carly studied Gam surreptitiously. She was red around the eyes.

“Mum,” she whispered. “Gam’s been crying. Do you know what’s wrong?”

“No,” she said. “It’s probably to do with her age. Some people get more sentimental.”

But Gam never cried at weddings or christenings.

Carly sidled up to the legend in her lifetime and offered her a piece of christening cake.

“Everything OK, Gam?”

Gam sniffed and then seemed to smile bravely.

“Fine, Carly. I love your hair.”

It was purple this week, feathered at the top with two plaits either side. Her mum had pretended not to see it.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You look as if you’ve been crying.”

Her great-aunt gave her a horrified look.