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IT WAS DR. SALLY again with the gang of social workers. They all clustered around our doorstep with their fake-friendly faces. Ted said he had wanted to have a bit of a chat with them to help us decide what was best for me and Gran, and that he'd gotten this so-called fabulous idea that involved him staying in Ireland permanently and renting a house down the road. And then he said that I could move in with him. He wanted me to start packing more or less straightaway. He also said he thought that we needed to start thinking of Granddad and about how he'd probably have to be moved to a place where he would be able to get full-time care.

“Eh, hello, sorry,” I said. “In case you haven't noticed, that's exactly the kind of care he's already getting. Here with me and Gran.”

Ted seemed genuinely amazed that I wasn't treating his plan as though it was the highlight of my entire life. He said it was time I started to grow up a bit and to realize that things don't stay the same forever, as if I didn't already know that. I think I might have thrown an empty
teacup in his direction then. I can't exactly remember.

After that, Uncle Ted went a bit mad himself, and he started to say how one of my problems was that no one had ever taught me proper manners. He said I was being purposely difficult and extremely disrespectful, especially considering he'd rearranged his whole life for us. I told him that nobody had asked him to rearrange his stupid life.

Granny Deedee came in with a massive tray full of more cups of tea, as if that were the cure for everything.

My head felt a bit sore and I was sick of talking, so I locked myself in the bathroom. It felt good sitting on the cold floor with the door shut and nobody looking at me or asking me questions or telling me I was rude, but I knew I couldn't stay there forever.

By the time I came out, Dr. Sally was telling Granny Deedee how sometimes people need help even though they won't admit it, and Ted was wooden-faced, nodding his head, as though he was a puppet, not a fully grown human being.

Dr. Sally told me that my granddad was going to “rest quietly” at home tonight and that at the end of the week she'd come back to do the “little test” again when everything was a bit calmer. If he didn't pass it this time, they were going to take Granddad away to a nursing home.

“Gran?” I said, turning to her for a bit of support.

But she was in on the plan too. They all said I was going to be allowed to see him whenever I liked but that now I absolutely had to move in with my uncle Ted.

They said that I was allowed to go into my granddad's room to say good-bye, as if someone had to give me permission to go to a place where me and granddad hung out all the time reading books and chatting.

“Has anyone asked my granddad what HE wants?”

There was this big awkward silence.

“He wants to stay here and he wants me to stay here too. He doesn't want people coming and doing tests on him, and he doesn't need it. You've all got this whole thing a hundred percent wrong. There's nothing the matter with his brain.”

“Cosmo, will you for God's sake calm down,” said Ted.

I hate it when people tell me to calm down. It's basically one of the things I hate most in the world. And anyway, I
was
calm. I was thinking a lot more logically than most of the morons I was surrounded by.

“He's getting better. I've been doing this system with him, and it's working. I know it is.”

None of them had ever heard of the Memory Cure website, even though it was established in 2005.

“You've got to stay up-to-date with the latest developments,” I told them. “Otherwise you can't call yourselves professionals at all.”

I made them stand around the computer, and I showed everyone.

“See? There are plenty of things you can do when someone gets forgetful—it's only a matter of trying.”

“Oh, Cosmo, my love,” was the completely useless thing that Granny Deedee said then. And she came over to me with her arms stretched out like a zombie, and then she gave me a hug, which was something I was not particularly in the mood for. She held me by my shoulders very gently and she said, “Darling, there are thousands of things in this world that we'll never be able to understand or control. There are things you have to accept, things you have to believe are happening for a reason, even if it's not something anyone can explain.”

She loved saying things like that, about us not being able to understand things. And then she was all like, “Look, I know this has all been very difficult for you.” She went on with the exact same kinds of things that Uncle Ted had said earlier, about “learning to accept” and “coming to terms” and “the natural order of things.”

“Coming to terms” with something is another way of saying “giving up.” I wasn't going to do that. I would never do that. And besides, action number four of the Memory Cure website said:

Negative thoughts are the enemies of brain health. Adopt a positive mental attitude at all times.

When I finally did go in to say good-bye, Granddad was lying on his side with both hands pressed together under his cheek.

His eyes were closed and he was snoring a little bit. I put my hand on his head.

“Granddad. Granddad. I'm really sorry, but I have to go. They think it's better if I stay with Uncle Ted for a while.”

And it might sound a bit pathetic, but I kind of kept patting his head and I kept on not wanting to leave him. I didn't think he was going to wake up.

But then his eyes opened. He grabbed my hand very tightly and he looked at me, alert and bright and focused, and he whispered:

“Cosmo. It's you!”

I wanted to run out to them all. I wanted to shout, “SEE? See, everyone. He
knows
who I am. My system is working. He
hasn't
forgotten me.”

I told him that I didn't want to leave, that I had planned to stay here with him and Gran.

My granddad used to say that the best way to make the gods laugh was to tell them your plans. He reminded me about that in his room that day, and then he chuckled away and I was sure then that he was going to get back to being his old self completely. But there wasn't time to go and explain it to anyone, because then he was saying something else:

“Listen to me, Cosmo. You must listen to me very, very carefully. There's something I have to tell you. Something important. I'm only going to say it once.

“Here's the thing: I know my mind is failing. And I know you've been doing your best, but there's only one thing that can help me now.”

“What is it, Granddad?” I asked, my voice trembling a little bit.

“It's a key, Cosmo. It's going to help you find the answer to everything, and I'm going to give it to you. You're the only person I could possibly trust with it. You must promise to use it carefully. It's a key to the gates.”

“What gates?”

“The south gates.”

“The south gates of what?”

“Of the Abbey.”

“What abbey?”

“Blackbrick Abbey, of course.”

He reached his brown twisted hand over to a small box that had always, as far as I could remember, sat on his bedside table. He fumbled and scrabbled around a bit before he opened the box and took something out.

“Here,” he said, holding up this small, gray, dented thing. It took a good bit of looking carefully at it before I realized it must've been the key he'd been talking about.

“Open the gates with it. Make sure you lock them behind you as soon as you're on the other side. It would never do to let anyone else in, do you hear me? Blackbrick. South gates. Do you understand, Cosmo? Do you understand completely?”

I didn't understand. Not even partially. But I nodded and tried to make my face look reassuring and calm.

“There'll be nothing to worry about, because guess what?” he said.

“What?”

He lowered his voice. I had to lean in really close to hear.

“I'll be there. On the other side. Waiting for you. Bring a pen and paper. That's what you'll need to do, that's a good fellow. Promise me you'll go.”

It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. It was proof that he really had lost it—that he really was a psycho, just like everybody kept saying.

The Memory Cure website's action number five said:

Never act surprised or confused about what your loved one says. Always behave as if you know what they're talking about, even if what they're saying appears strange or incoherent.

I said, “Okay, okay, I will, I'll go there,” even though I knew that I probably wouldn't.

“Well done. Excellent,” he said, smiling. “I knew you wouldn't let me down.”

I took the key from him, and I said, “Thanks.”

Thanks a bloody million.

Chapter 5

EVERYONE WAS waiting when I came out. Ted was smiling, and the social workers' heads were bobbing up and down enthusiastically and they were saying things like, “Well done, Cosmo, good man,” as if this was supposed to be the best day of my life and I should have been delighted.

“Don't worry!” said Dr. Sally as though she was about to explode with joy. “You'll be in good hands!”

“Am I still going to be able to go to the stables after school?”

And that was when Ted said, “Oh yes, sorry, em, about that, we forgot to tell you. We have to send John away. He's going to a farm. In the country. Where he can run around all day and be happy.”

“A FARM in the COUNTRY?” I shouted. “What do you think I am, SIX? I know what that means. You're going to have him put down. That's basically MURDER.”

“Cosmo. I promise we're not doing that.”

He gave me the phone number of the farm and said I could call and talk to them about John to prove that he wasn't having him killed.

Dr. Sally told me that I should try to think about what my gran was feeling, and that it would be a good thing for me to think of other people for a change, and I told Dr. Sally to shut up and go away and never come back. She definitely heard me. It was the first time since I'd met her that she stopped smiling.

I called the farm in the country. They said I could come and visit John whenever I wanted, but it turns out that “the country” was Kildare, which is miles away. Even though I'm not the most practical person in the world, I already knew the logistics were going to be a nightmare.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

I gave the farm person on the other end of the phone a load of instructions about how they should take care of John and what he liked to eat and how to brush him and how warm his stable should be and how to look after his feet, which are the most important thing of all you need to focus on when you're in charge of a horse. I asked them if they were writing it down, because it was a lot to remember.

After a while I did calm down a bit, but it was just because I was tired.

I spent a long time looking at the ceiling of Ted's spare room that night, thinking about John and about the mad promise I'd made to my granddad.