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‘You, of course,' I say, as he props himself up on one elbow and reaches out to stroke the curve of my waist.

‘How long can you stay?'

‘I'll have to take Frosty for a walk later.'

‘I'd like to find a way for us to spend more time together.' Lewis leans across and kisses me gently. ‘I don't want to carry on like this. Zara, I want you to move in with me.'

‘I'm sorry?' I'm so taken aback, I sit up, clasping the duvet across my breasts.

‘I love falling asleep and waking up with my arms around you.'

‘I love it too.'

I reach out and touch his shoulder as he continues, ‘And I'd like you to be here much more. I want us to be together – sometimes I feel as if we hardly see each other.'

My heart leaps, then falls back again. ‘Oh, Lewis. I'm flattered that you asked, but—'

‘But?' His expression darkens slightly as a cloud passes across the morning sun. ‘Is this about the stag?'

‘No, it isn't,' I exclaim. ‘Look, this isn't personal.' I love him to pieces. ‘It's Gran. I can't move out. She needs me.'

‘You can't be there for ever,' he says, frowning. ‘Come on, I want to wake up beside you every morning – not once or twice a week, if we're lucky. And if I do have to move away for work, I want to make the most of the time we have.'

‘I can't really move in here – this belongs to Murray and my sister.'

It's a temporary measure. I've been looking at places to rent. There's a cottage in Talyford – we could share the bills.'

‘It's silly to commit yourself to a six-month rental agreement when you might find a job at any moment,' I point out.

‘I'll have to settle down one day. I have plans, as I've said before, to rent or buy some land where I can keep sheep, breed them and rear them, and be a fulltime shepherd. That way I can make some serious money.'

‘How can you cope with sending the lambs you bring into the world off for meat?'

‘I love sheep, but I also like a roast leg of lamb with gravy and crispy potatoes – don't you?'

‘I'm afraid I've stopped eating lamb since I saw you carrying that one into Emily's kitchen. It was too cute. I feel guilty when Gran serves up lamb shanks and I have to decline.'

‘You can't go on like that,' Lewis says. ‘It's my job, my income, my life.'

‘I know,' I sigh.

‘You've gone all ethical on me. What about Murray? He lives off his sheep.'

‘Yeah. I suppose it's a necessary evil. I can see you rear them kindly and they have a good life while it lasts.'

‘So will you move in with me if I can find the right place?'

I smile ruefully. ‘I can't move in with you right now. It's impossible.'

‘Are you saying this because you don't want to live with me?'

‘No, I've said. It isn't personal. I'd love to move in with you, but I want it to be right.'

‘In the perfect world we'd move into a place of our own with the dogs, but that isn't going to be any time soon.' Lewis takes my hand. ‘Zara, I live for the moment. Life's too short for anything else.'

‘I'm the practical one, then, and you're the romantic,' I say as I run through the options. ‘There isn't room at Gran's for you and the dogs. Norris would go ballistic or expire from the shock.'

‘I don't want to live with Rosemary. She can be good fun, but I want to be with you, not your grandmother.'

‘I've been giving Gran a hand with the papers and behind the counter when I can.'

‘That's fair enough, but you don't have to live with her to help her out.' I don't respond as Lewis continues, ‘I wish you were a bit more of a pink fluffy romantic. I'd pretty much moved you in.' He lies back, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

‘Gran relies on me, and I've promised her that I'll be there for her, as she was for me when I was in bits when my marriage ended.'

‘So what are you saying?'

‘That it's a lovely idea because there's nothing I love more than curling up with you in bed at night and waking up with you in the morning, but I can't move in with you at the moment. I need time to talk to Gran and see how I can organise things so I know she's all right.' I feel sick with regret. I so want to move in and
for us to be together, but I can't let her down. I just can't. Boyfriend or grandmother? My loyalty is torn in two.

‘You're always so busy,' Lewis goes on. ‘Is it for real or is it an excuse? Sometimes I get the impression you don't want to hang out with me, that you'll do anything to avoid it.' He looks so downcast that I'm seized with guilt. He holds my hand and runs his fingertips up and down my forearm, grazing my skin. ‘I want to be your best friend and lover. Zara, I want to be your hero.'

My mouth runs dry. ‘You are my hero,' I stammer.

‘Can't we try – say you stay here three or four nights a week to begin with?' Lewis tries again.

I've all but run out of excuses. ‘I'm sorry, I can't. It's worse than you think. Gran isn't coping.' To my chagrin, hot tears come rolling down my cheeks, and along with them comes the truth – about the forgetfulness, the accusations and my promise to Gran that I won't let her go into a home. ‘It's pretty awful to see her going downhill. It's like losing a tiny piece of her every day.'

Lewis cuddles me.

‘I knew there was something wrong – you should have told me before.'

‘I know. I've been in denial about how bad things are, and I suppose I was hoping that if I didn't speak about it, it would go away. Now I've had to face up to it.'

‘I can help. She could move in with us at a push.'

I look up. ‘The last thing I want is for you to feel obliged to take on the two of us.'

‘Obliged? That's a horrible word.'

‘I realise that, but I can foresee a time when I'm going to have to give up everything to care for her full time.'

‘You mean your job?'

‘I'd take on the shop as an alternative.'

‘But you're trained to deliver babies, not newspapers. No, you can't!' Lewis exclaims.

‘Gran has a saying: when needs must.'

‘She has too many bloody sayings,' he says. ‘I can top that – a problem aired is a problem shared. Can't Emily and your parents help out with the shop? It must be their turn by now.'

‘My parents have already decided which home Gran will go to – and, let's face it, with two children and the farm, Emily has her hands full.'

‘What about an assistant for the shop, a full-timer?'

‘I've been looking into the accounts and what she's entitled to, and there isn't enough money coming in. She won't countenance selling the property and she gets so confused sometimes, I really don't think she'd cope living anywhere else.'

‘That's so sad. I can't imagine my grandparents being in that situation – they're all very healthy for now. Listen, you must promise me you won't jack in your job.'

‘I can't do that. My mind's been going around in circles and I can't see any other way.'

‘There has to be,' Lewis says. ‘I know you don't want to, but I reckon you have to speak to the rest of the family. They might be able to come up with a solution.'

‘Sometimes you sound so old,' I tell him with a smile.

‘Do you know what's wrong with Rosemary? Has she seen a doctor?'

I shake my head.

‘You really must get this sorted. Promise me you'll make her an appointment – it can't be that difficult when you work from the surgery.'

‘Oh, I don't know. I don't want to upset her. She's very frail, mentally, I mean.'

‘I understand that you're afraid of getting a diagnosis, but what if there's some treatment she can have to improve her health, at least for a while? All the time you're covering for her, she could be missing out.'

‘I see what you mean. If I did arrange for her to be checked out, you wouldn't let on to Emily, would you?'

‘I'd leave that to you, but remember you can't protect her for ever.'

‘Thank you, Lewis.'

‘It's nothing,' he says, but it means everything to me. ‘You know, I understand why you can't commit to moving in with me at the moment, although I'm disappointed, but I won't push it until you feel ready.'

I give him a hug. I can't believe how lucky I am.

I talk to Claire at the surgery later, when I drop in to make an appointment for Gran, saying how sometimes I wish I could be completely irresponsible and do my own thing. Claire says perhaps I should, because Gran wouldn't want me to put my life on hold for her, but I know I can't. I'm not like that.

In the evening, a few days after my birthday, I turn the sign on the shop door to ‘Closed' and slide the
bolts across. I did the shopping the day before, and dealt with the papers in advance of going out to work this morning, so all that's left to do is cash up and cook dinner. I don't know how my grandmother kept it all together over the years. I smile ruefully as Frosty comes trotting in to remind me she could do with feeding too. I'm sure she'd like a walk as well, but I can't face it. I've been on my feet all day and I'm shattered.

‘I'll take you out in the morning, I promise.' I wander upstairs with the dog behind me to find Gran who is asleep in her chair with the television on – it's a repeat of
Come Dine with Me
, I think. She has her mouth open and her tea cup emptied into her lap. With a sigh of frustration, I turn the volume down.

‘Hey, I'm watching that.' Her voice is croaky and thick with sleep.

‘You'd nodded off,' I say, gently removing the cup from her grasp. ‘You've spilt your tea again.'

‘Oh dear.' She seems remarkably unconcerned as I fetch some kitchen roll to mop up.

‘Would you like a fresh one?'

‘No, thank you.' She strokes her crinkled forehead with her fingertips. ‘What is the time?'

‘Teatime. I thought we'd have cod and parsley sauce, one of your favourites.' I remind myself not to keep talking to her as I would to Poppy. ‘I've made you an appointment with Dr Mackie.' I spoke to him at the surgery today. ‘He's making a house call tomorrow.'

‘There's no need for that. I'm not ill.'

‘We talked about this yesterday and you agreed it
was a good idea to have a checkup to make sure. Like an MOT,' I add encouragingly.

She frowns. She's lost, I can tell, and I feel terrible: sorry for her, angry at her too for not being able to remember something we only discussed a short time ago.

‘Like an MOT on a car,' I repeat, and she smiles and nods.

‘Oh yes, your granddad used to have a car.'

‘I'm talking about you seeing the doctor,' I interrupt. ‘He's coming at eleven and I'm going to sit in with you because, as you've always said, two heads are better than one.'

‘What am I going to say to him?' she asks.

‘It's all right. Leave it with Ben, I mean Dr Mackie. He'll ask you some questions, that's all.' I smile to reassure her. ‘We can have a nice chat with him.'

When Ben comes the next day, he asks her what day it is and what she had for breakfast. She looks confused, but to be honest there are times, depending on how busy I am, when I wouldn't have a clue either.

‘Gran, it's Tuesday and you had toast for breakfast,' I say.

‘Ah, Zara, your grandmother is supposed to be answering for herself,' Ben says with a smile. ‘These questions do have a purpose.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry. Of course.' I feel like a complete idiot.

‘Why are you asking me these questions? You're here because . . . because . . .?' Gran turns to me, frowning, ‘Why is he here?'

‘It's for a checkup,' I say firmly.

‘I can tell you, young man,' she addresses Dr Mackie, ‘I don't need one.'

‘We might as well make sure while I'm here.' He asks her more questions, and every so often she looks to me for help and I have to force myself to remain silent. At the end, Ben asks her again what day it is. She gets the date right and the year wrong. According to her, it is 1965, and I'm beginning to feel like I'm taking part in an episode of
Ashes to Ashes.

‘How old are you, Rosemary?' Dr Mackie says without a flicker of his expression.

‘Oh, you must never ask a lady her age,' she says coquettishly to cover the fact, I believe, that she really doesn't remember. Dr Mackie glances at me. He knows that too.

‘You're having some difficulties with your shortterm memory, Rosemary,' he says. ‘I'm going to refer you to a consultant who will do some more checks to see how we can best help you.'

I could cry because he's confirming my worst fears, but Gran, if she is frightened, doesn't show it. She's happy in the here and now, stroking Frosty who sits at her feet.

‘I'll show you out,' I say to Ben, and on the way downstairs, he talks.

‘Don't worry. There are things we can do. I'm going to send Claire over to take some blood and ask her for a urine sample to make sure she hasn't got an infection somewhere, which might be affecting her cognitive capacity; although I'm afraid it's more likely that she's showing early signs of dementia.'

‘How will it go on?' I ask tentatively, because I can't help feeling I don't want to know.

‘There are different types and they can progress in various ways, depending on the individual,' Ben shrugs. ‘I'm afraid I haven't got a crystal ball, but she will eventually need full-time care. And, as for running the shop – which is what this is really about, isn't it?, because she doesn't want to give it up – I can't see how she can do it for much longer. Your family is going to have to make some tough decisions on her behalf.'