Eleven Memories: Six

After Nana died I started spending part of my Canadian Visits staying with Papa. There were subtle differences in the house 18 months after her death. It wasn't messy or untidy in any way, but the regimented tidiness she inflicted was no longer there and Mum and Dad had started quietly talking about the day when Papa might have to give up the house.

I liked staying there with him. It was quiet, he seemed to like having me there, but didn't feel the need to entertain me or hover and the two of us would orbit the kitchen like comets, only occasionally meeting up to have dinner, talk about his latest batch of wine, or watch Becker.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea and a game of solitaire in front of me when I saw the spider. It was, I'm not kidding, the biggest spider I have ever seen outside a zoo. The leg span was easily as big as my hand. It was over by the stove, but it was headed, one slow step at a time, directly for the table. So I did what any self respecting, 26 year old, abject coward would do:

I stood on my chair and squeaked.

Papa probably wouldn't have heard me if I'd shouted blue murder; he was almost Deaf by then, but he'd finished his cigarette and like Sir Galahad coming to my rescue, he shuffled into the kitchen at exactly the right moment.

'What are you doing up there?' he squinted at me, possibly wondering if I was trying to unhook the crystals from the chandelier to wear as earrings (a crime which I was forever plotting as an eight year old).

I pointed a shaking finger at the spider.

'Spider!'

He looked at the behemoth making slow progress towards the table. 'Oh dear. Where did you come from.' He scooped a mug off the counter, tipped it upside down and swiftly brought it down over the monster - who had to pull its legs in to avoid them being cut off!!


Papa slipped a piece of paper under the cup and from my perch on the chair I watched him shuffle out into the patio, where he released the spider onto the roof of the garage.

'Did you kill it?' I asked hopefully.

'Oh no,' he said. 'No, I can't squash him. A spider that big is pretty old. He's seen a lot. You have to let the old things get on with their lives. They know what they're doing.'