It so happened that he was raised by his grandmother, though his mother was still alive.
This was the way of things for Stanley, brought up by his gran while his mother lived on. She was, by all accounts, a fine womanlovely and kind-hearted. Yet she was a singer at the Philharmonic, seldom home, her travels so frequent they even drove a wedge between her and her husband, the boys father. So it fell to Gran to care for Stanley.
For as long as he could remember, whenever he returned to their block of flats, he would tilt his head upwards, and thereon the fourth floorthrough the kitchen window, hed see the beloved silhouette of his gran, waiting impatiently for his return. And whenever she saw him off somewhere, shed wave from that same window, and without fail, hed wave back.
But when Stanley turned twenty-five, Gran passed away. Now, coming home to no silhouette in the window, the lad felt a sadness he could scarcely bear, an emptiness that lingered even when his mother was home. They had long since stopped speaking heart to heart, no shared interests, no small talknot even about household matters. They might as well have been strangers.
Months after Grans death, Stanley made a sudden decision to leave for another city. His skills were in high demandIT specialists were needed everywhere. Online, he found a good firm offering a handsome salary and even covering rent. His mother, Evelyn, was relieved. After all, her son was grown, and it was time he made his own way, far from home.
He took little with himonly Grans favourite teacup as a keepsake and a few clothes to start. With his rucksack slung over his shoulder, he cast one last glance at the kitchen window. No one was there. His mother hadnt even come to wave him off. A cab whisked him to the train station, and soon he was lying on the upper bunk of a sleeper carriage.
The next morning, the train pulled into the station right on time. Stanley found the office where he was to work, checked in, and set off to view flats hed scouted online. Navigating the unfamiliar streets with his phone, he suddenly noticed a block of flats that struck him. It looked just like his own. Perhaps all those post-war builds were alike, yet something about this one felt uncannily familiarmaybe the window frames painted the same odd shade of turquoise.
Without thinking, he strayed from his path and drifted towards the building. He only meant to stand there a while, to remember Gran. But as he approached, his eyes lifted of their own accord to the window where the kitchen should beand he froze. His head spun at the sight. On the fourth floor, in that kitchen window, stood the silhouette of his gran. He knew her in an instant, his heart near leaping from his chest.
Stanley was a sensible man. He knew this couldnt be. So he shut his eyes, turned away, and walked on. His mind told him it was just another old woman at that window, yet his heart cried out: *Stop! Its her!* And against reason, he obeyed. He halted, turned back, and looked up again.
Gran was still there.
Stanley couldnt help himself. With his rucksack still on his shoulder, he bolted for the building, up to the fourth floor. And just like in his own home, the lock on the stairwell door was faultyhe flew up the steps and pressed the buzzer. The door swung open to reveal a bleary-eyed girl in a dressing gown, staring at him in bewilderment.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Me?” Stanley faltered. “IIm here for my gran.”
“Your gran?” The girl blinked, then suddenly grinned and called into the flat, “Mum! Someones here for you!”
While her mother approached, the girl eyed this strange young man with curiosity. Stanleys head spun worse than beforehis heart might as well have stopped.
“Whos asking for me?” A woman in her fifties, just as bleary-eyed, appeared in the doorway, also wrapped in a dressing gown.
“Mum, imagine,” the girl smirked. “He called you *Gran*.”
“Wait,” Stanley whispered. “I didnt mean her. Iin your window. The kitchen. There was a woman there. My gran. I swear I saw her.”
“What, are you on something?” the girl scoffed. “Theres no gran here! Just me and Mum! Got it?”
“Right. Sorry. II must be confused.” Stanleys vision swam. He stepped back, set his rucksack down, and braced himself against the wall. “Ill just stand here a moment, then go.”
The girl moved to shut the door, but her mother stopped her.
“Young man,” the woman said, concerned, “how are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he lied softly. “Dont worry.”
“You dont look fine. Your face is red as a beet. Come inside.” She took his arm and guided him into the flat, snapping orders at her daughter. “Victoria, fetch his bag! And bring the blood pressure cuff!”
The girl, wide-eyed, obeyed.
Stanley was seated on the hallway bench as the woman checked his vitals. His pulse was racing.
“Im a doctor,” she said briskly. “Your pressures through the roof180 over 100. Any history of this?”
“No,” he murmured.
“Age?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Heart problems?”
“None. I swear, Im healthy.”
“Healthy? Then why the spike?”
“Maybemaybe its the shock.”
“Shock from what?”
“I saw my gran. In your window. She was standing there, looking right at me.”
“Your gran?”
“Yes. But she died. Two months ago. Are you sure theres no elderly woman here?”
“Youre a strange one,” Victoria giggled. “I told youjust us. But if itll calm you down, Ill check the kitchen.”
Off she went. Seconds later, a shriek.
“Mum! What on earth?” She rushed back, clutching a teacup. “Where did *this* come from? Weve never owned this!”
Stanley stared. “Thatsthats Grans cup. I packed it. It should be in my bag.”
“Where *is* your bag?” the doctor asked.
Stanley gestured weakly to the rucksack by the door. They emptied itno cup to be found.
To this day, the incident remains unexplainedespecially for the doctor. For within months, she became Stanleys mother-in-law. Some mysteries, it seems, are beyond reason.
