Loose Connections (10 page)

‘Don’t you understand?’

But he thrust it out of his mind.

‘I’m an idiot!’ he panted. Who had he been kidding? He’d entrusted Gran to some weird girl. Angrily, he thrust aside the picture of Gran chatting happily to Verity, of
Gran, Verity and Kenny in the garden laughing together.

I wanted help. That’s why I did it. I didn’t think. Mum or Dad would never have done it.

All he wanted now was to get home and make sure Gran was OK.

When he reached his front door, he dropped his keys on the ground and had to scramble around looking for them.

Bloody keys! Where are they! Damn Verity! Damn her!

He found the keys at last and fumbled, missing the lock. At last he opened the door, burst into the house and ran into the lounge.

No one there.

He pounded up the stairs. If Verity was still there, he’d have it out with her. Tell her he never wanted to see her again.

The door to Gran’s bedroom was ajar. He swallowed, and took a deep breath as he pushed it open.

Gran was sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said, smiling at him.

Jake looked round.

‘Is Verity still here?’

Gran shook her head.

Jake went over to her. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. He felt, with a shock, the fragility of her bones, the thinness of her hands and wrists.

‘Has Verity gone home, Gran?’

Gran looked straight at him.

‘She’s gone,’ she said, her face confused and her lip trembling.

Oh God, she’s going to cry!

‘It’s OK, Gran,’ he said gently. ‘I’m here now. We’ll manage. We’ll be OK. You’ll see.’ Awkwardly, he released one of his hands and started
to stroke her arm.

‘I wish she was here,’ said Gran. ‘I want Verity.’

Jake closed his eyes. There was something so final about the way Gran had said, ‘She’s gone.’

They didn’t speak for a while, and then Jake said. ‘Did Verity say she’d come tomorrow?’

Gran shook her head impatiently and snatched her hand away.

‘You
stupid
boy! She’s
gone
!’ she yelled. Suddenly, Jake felt very alone.

Verity knows I’m angry with her. She knows I don’t want her here in my house. How can she see into my mind when she’s not even here, for God’s sake?

Was she only here when she felt welcomed – needed? And why was Gran so certain that Verity had gone – not just gone home but gone away, out of their lives?

‘She’s only at the end of the road, Gran,’ he said, ‘She’ll come and see us again.’ But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it.

Gran looked at him full in the face, her eyes less vague than he’d seen them for some time. Some of her old fire was there. ‘Stupid boy!’ she repeated.

Slowly, Jake got up from his knees and stood up.

‘Are you going to get ready for bed now, Gran?’

‘Eh?’

‘Are you going to bed?’

‘Mind your own business!’ she snapped.

Jake smiled, and walked out of the room.

Still a bit of fire left in her, then!

He went slowly downstairs and sat in the lounge, fighting a desire to break down and cry. He checked his phone and saw three messages from Tom.

His finger hesitated as he texted back; how could he explain? He sighed. He couldn’t. Even to his best mate, he couldn’t possibly explain. Carefully he composed a reply:

Thanks for not giving up on me.

Jake stayed up late that night. He heard Gran stomping around in her room and when the stomping stopped, he went up to check she was OK.

She was asleep on the top of her bed, still wearing all her clothes. Jake brought a duvet in from his parents’ room and gently laid it on top of her.

He started to make plans.

Ten more days before Dad came home. He’d have to duck out of school for the last few days of term. He couldn’t leave Gran on her own. And he couldn’t go to the footie course
either. No chance.

For Mum’s sake, he must try and keep things together until Dad got back. He must try and make her think everything was OK.

He’d have to go and visit her on Saturday, as normal, then. Could he ask Irene to sit with Gran for a couple of hours while he went to the hospital by bus?

He texted Tom again before he headed for bed.
Sorry, mate, no chance I can make the footie course.
He hesitated, his finger still on the keypad, then added.
Don’t ask.

He felt desperately tired, but he didn’t get to sleep for ages. He kept seeing those girls and the pony, freeze-framed in his mind’s eye, in that huge paddock lit by a pale winter
sun that had no place in the here and now.

Who were they? What were they doing there? How had that paddock appeared and then disappeared?

Is it me? Am I going nuts?

And sleep, when it did come, was full of terrifying dreams. He was being chased by something menacing. He couldn’t see what it was, but he could hear it crashing behind him, coming nearer
and nearer.

***

It was late when Jake woke the next morning, and he lay where he was for moment, dozing. He wasn’t going to school, so it didn’t matter.

He didn’t hear any movement in the house, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Gran wasn’t up and about doing something life-threatening with electricity.

Reluctantly, he heaved himself out of bed and went to check in her room. She was still asleep, still fully dressed, sleeping peacefully under the duvet.

He went down to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He checked his watch. Nine-thirty. School would have started by now.

He made himself some toast and ate it standing up, not caring that a blob of honey had landed on his T-shirt. He wandered to the front door and looked out on another warm summer’s day. He
peered down the road, but he knew he wouldn’t see Verity.

He sighed. The first thing was to go and see Irene, swallow his pride and ask for her help. He knew Gran would hate Irene interfering, but what else could he do?

As he was gulping down a mugful of tea, he heard noises upstairs; the familiar thumping of Gran’s footsteps on the landing, shuffling towards the bathroom. He waited to hear the flush of
the toilet, the sound of running taps, but there was nothing.

He stayed downstairs, thinking about what he would say to Irene.

‘I want to go and see Mum in hospital tomorrow. Please can you look after Gran while I’m out?’

She’d be all over him. He could just imagine what she’d say. ‘See, I knew things weren’t right. I knew she wasn’t herself. You can’t cope, can you,
dear. Well, you don’t have to now. You leave everything to me, I’ll see to your gran.’ She’d fuss over him, fuss over Gran. And Gran would hate it. So would he.

He kept listening for movement overhead. When ten minutes had gone by, he started to worry and went upstairs.

Gran wasn’t in her room.

He tried the bathroom door, but it was locked.

‘Gran?’ he said. ‘Gran, are you OK?’

There was no reply. Jake rattled the door. Still no answer. He began to panic.

‘Gran!’ he shouted. ‘Gran, what’s wrong?’

She didn’t answer, but he heard a faint noise. There was a groan.

Oh God, what am I going to do if she’s collapsed on the floor and can’t get up?

‘GRAN!’

Again, a moan.

‘Gran. Please say something. What’s wrong?’

Silence.

Jake stood outside the bathroom door, frozen with indecision. Should he wait for her to come out? But she sounded bad. If he left her, she might get worse.

He rattled the door again and shouted as loudly as he could. ‘GRAN!!’

Nothing.

I must do something.

He bounded down the stairs and along the passage to the front door. He flung it open and raced down the path, through the gate, then in through Irene’s gate and up to her door.

He pounded on the door and pressed the bell at the same time.

Oh God, let her be in. Please let her be there.

But no one answered.

P’raps she’s in the garden at the back. P’raps she can’t hear the bell.

As he raced round the side of the house, he saw Irene and slithered to a stop. She was hanging out the washing on the line and Kenny was beside her, his big face a picture of concentration,
handing her the damp clothes from a basket.

Their garden was neat and tidy; plants and flowers in regimented lines, grass recently mown. They both looked up in surprise, Kenny holding a large T-shirt, Irene, a peg in her mouth.

For a second they all stared at each other, and then Jake spoke.

‘It’s Gran,’ he said. His voice sounded strange.

Irene took the peg from her mouth and came over. She put an awkward arm round his shoulder. ‘What’s happened, love?’

I wish she wouldn’t touch me. Why do I have to tell her? Why do I have to admit it?

‘It’s probably nothing,’ he mumbled, fighting to get control of his voice and trying to sound casual. ‘It’s just that she’s locked in the bathroom and she
won’t answer. And . . . well, I’m not sure what to do.’

‘Do you want me to come round?’

Of course I do, you stupid woman. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?

Jake nodded. ‘Please.’

Irene turned to Kenny. ‘See if you can peg the rest of the washing on the line for me, Kenny,’ she said. ‘I’m just going next door to help Jake. I won’t be
long.’

Kenny stood transfixed, staring at them both.

‘Go on, dear,’ said Irene gently. ‘Peg out the washing for me.’

Still Kenny didn’t move, so Irene went back to him and showed him what to do. ‘See, like this. Just peg all the washing on the line for me.’

Suddenly Kenny seemed to get it. He draped the T-shirt he was holding onto the washing line and fumbled around for a peg to attach it.

‘Good boy. That’s it. Keep going. I’ll only be next door. I won’t be long.’

As Jake and Irene reached the pavement, Irene looked back. ‘I hope he’ll be all right,’ she muttered.

Stop fussing about Kenny. What about Gran, for God’s sake?

Jake led the way upstairs.

Please let her be OK. Let her be back in her room and OK, and then Irene can go home.

But the bathroom door was still locked. Jake rattled the door knob again. ‘Gran,’ he said softly.

There was a shuffling noise from the other side of the door and Jake’s shoulders slumped with relief.

‘Gran?’ he said again.

‘What?’

Irene looked at Jake. ‘Sounds as though she’s all right,’ she whispered.

Jake nodded. Then he tried again. ‘Gran, please open the door.’

‘Go AWAY.’

‘Perhaps she’ll open it if we leave her alone,’ whispered Irene.

‘Who’s that? Who’s that talking?’

Jake didn’t answer. If he told her it was Irene, she’d never come out.

‘Who IS it?’

‘No one, Gran, it doesn’t matter.’

There was silence for a moment, then, ‘Is it Verity?’

If she thinks it’s Verity, maybe she’ll come out.

‘Yes Gran, it’s Verity.’

Irene nudged Jake. ‘Who’s Verity?’

Jake stared at her. She must have seen Verity in the garden when she kept peering over the fence to check that Kenny was OK. He shrugged. Whatever.

‘No one,’ he said shortly.

They could hear Gran shuffling towards the door. Jake and Irene stood aside and waited. They heard her fumbling with the lock, muttering to herself, then slowly the handle turned and the door
opened.

Jake couldn’t help it. He threw himself into her arms, giddy with relief. ‘Gran,’ he said, his voice beginning to break, ‘I thought you’d had a turn. I was
scared.’

Absently she stroked his hair. ‘I’m all right, Jakey love,’ she said.

She’s remembered my name, for once.

As he drew back from her, he saw at once what had happened. He could smell it.

Oh God. She didn’t make it to the toilet.

Irene was hovering to one side of the door and when Gran saw her, something of her old hostility returned.

‘Who’s she?’

‘She’s come to help, Gran.’

‘That’s not Verity!’

‘No. But she’s going to help you.’

‘Huh!’

Jake looked over at Irene. ‘She’s messed herself,’ he whispered.

‘It’s OK, Jake,’ Irene said quietly. ‘I’ll see to her.’

‘But. . .’

‘Go on, Jake. You go back to Kenny and I’ll get your gran cleaned up.’

Still he hesitated, so Irene came forward and firmly took hold of Gran’s arm.

She’s going to yell and scream at her, she’ll scratch her eyes out.

But Gran just looked at Irene and frowned. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Did Verity send you?’

Irene nodded – and then Gran sighed and let herself be led back into the bathroom.

Irene looked back over her shoulder at Jake. ‘It’ll be fine, Jake. But Kenny needs someone with him, too.’

Reluctantly, Jake walked away and left them to it.

Kenny.

He’d never really thought much about Kenny. He was just the loony son of busybody, sticky-beak Irene.

Irene and Kenny had only lived next door for about a year. The family who had lived there before had been great. Jake and their children had grown up together, played together, been in and out
of each other’s houses all the time. It had been like having his own brother and sister. But then their dad got a new job in another part of the country and they’d had to move away.
Jake still missed them. And who did they get next door – bloody Irene and Kenny. He’d hated the thought of anyone moving in there. It would never be the same again. If only it had been
a normal family. But Irene! She’d irritated them all – even Mum and Dad – right from the start with her silly chatter, her prying and her desperation to be friends.

Slowly, Jake made his way back to be with Kenny.

I really don’t want to do this.

When Kenny saw him, he looked nervous.

Jake felt a prick of guilt. He’d never tried to be nice to Kenny. He’d always laughed at him and he and Tom had goaded each other on, lobbing stuff over the fence at him and then
ducking down out of sight and stifling their giggles when Kenny turned round to see where it came from.