Loose Connections (11 page)

‘Hi, Kenny,’ said Jake.

Kenny stood still, his eyes bulging, staring at Jake. Jake went closer. He looked at the clothes line and he couldn’t help smiling. Kenny hadn’t got far with hanging out the washing,
and the clothes he had managed to put on the line were all on top of each other in a heap.

‘OK, mate, let’s get these clothes hung out for your mum, shall we?’

Still Kenny stared, unmoving.

Jake spread out the damp clothes. ‘You hand me the pegs, Kenny, and I’ll put the clothes on the line.’

But Kenny looked confused. He hung his head and stood rooted to the spot, his big hands swinging by his side.

Then Jake remembered how Irene had done it. ‘Tell you what. You take the clothes from the basket and I’ll peg them out.’ He bent down and picked up a handful of pegs and stood
waiting.

Suddenly, Kenny’s face lit up. He took a large pair of pants from the washing basket and handed them carefully to Jake.

‘That’s right, mate. Now, something else. How about that tea towel there?’ And slowly, one bit of washing at a time, they managed to finish the job.

My God, you need the patience of a saint.

Kenny stood back to admire the line full of washing, grinning with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much to make him happy, poor chap.

‘Shall we take the basket back into the house now, Kenny?’

It was obviously a routine Kenny understood, because he picked up the basket and stomped up the garden and in through the back door.

Jake followed him into the kitchen. Kenny put the basket carefully on top of the washing machine and then sat down at the kitchen table. He let out a noisy sigh. Jake hovered uncertainly. The
kitchen was familiar to him (he’d always been in it when the other family lived here) but yet unfamiliar, with Irene’s stamp on it.

What do I do now?

Kenny was looking up expectantly.

‘Do you want a drink or something, Kenny?’

Kenny made a grunt.

Is that a yes or a no?

Jake went to the fridge. Everything was neatly stacked, and Jake thought of the time he’d opened his own fridge and found it stuffed full of nothing but milk.

Poor Gran.

He took out a carton of juice and showed it to Kenny. ‘This OK?’

No reaction.

Oh well, we’ll give it a go.

Jake found a glass, poured out the juice and put it in front of Kenny. Kenny stared at it but he didn’t pick it up.

Jake sat down at the table opposite. He found himself feeling sorry for Irene.

Can’t be a bundle of laughs living with Kenny.

‘You going to drink up, Kenny?’

Suddenly, Kenny pushed the glass, quite deliberately, off the edge of the table and watched as it shattered into shards all over the tiled floor in a pool of sticky orange juice. He didn’t
move, but just sat staring at the mess.

Jake’s first impulse was to yell, ‘Bloody hell, Kenny, why did you do that?’ But as soon as he’d done it, he realised his mistake. Kenny immediately started whimpering,
holding his hands over his ears and rocking to and fro in his chair.

‘Kenny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. Look, it’s no big deal. It doesn’t matter.’

Kenny continued to sit there rocking, while Jake found things to clear up the mess. The glass had spread everywhere: there were shards under the kitchen units, by the door, under the table. Jake
cut his finger on one and swore under his breath.

He had nearly finished clearing up when Irene came back. She was looking flustered and anxious.

‘I’m sorry, Jake, I should have warned you – he doesn’t like juice,’ she said, as she took over the clearing up.

Jake was still sucking his cut finger. ‘My fault,’ he said. ‘I told him to drink up.’

Irene squatted down on the floor and started mopping at the last of the puddle with a paper towel, then looked up at him and smiled.

‘You weren’t to know, dear. You’ve done well.’

When she straightened up, she looked out at the washing flapping in the summer breeze.

‘Good boy, Kenny,’ she said. ‘You’ve hung out the washing really well.’

Kenny gazed at her adoringly.

‘Is Gran OK?’ asked Jake.

Irene nodded. ‘I’ve rinsed through the soiled stuff and put it in to wash,’ she said. ‘But I think you’d better get back to her. She’s a bit upset.’

I bet she is!

‘She didn’t try to hit you, did she?’

Irene smiled again. ‘No, she just swore at me a few times – but I don’t think she knew who I was.’

Jake moved towards the door.

‘Thanks for doing that,’ he said.

‘That’s OK, Jake. I’ll help out whenever I can, you know that.’

‘Dad’s coming home soon.’

‘That’s good,’ said Irene. ‘You shouldn’t have to cope with this on your own.’

Jake bridled. ‘I can manage.’

Irene said nothing.

‘Most of the time I can manage fine. She hasn’t done that before – you know, messed herself.’

‘I know, dear. But. . .’ and she hesitated, spotting another stray piece of glass and picking it up, ‘things are going to get worse, Jake.’

Jake said nothing.

‘There are people who will help you.’

She means the Social Services. No thank you!

‘I’ll hang on till Dad gets back.’

As Jake left, he thought about Irene, stuck with Kenny day in, day out. She had some part-time job or other and Kenny went off to the day centre a couple of times a week when she was at work,
but the rest of the time she cared for him. And he was a big fellow. What happened if he got angry at her, if he lashed out at her? Did he ever get violent?

And what had happened to Kenny’s dad? Had he just gone off when he realised what life with Kenny was going to be like?

The rest of the day dragged by. Gran was either asleep in the lounge or wandering around from room to room.

She’s so much worse now. She didn’t seem so bad when Verity was here.

Verity.

He pushed thoughts of Verity away. She was a weirdo and he didn’t want her here.

Just for something to do, he asked Kenny to come round and help in the garden. Irene was pathetically grateful.

‘Thanks ever so much, Jake. He’d like that. Just give him a little job to do and he’ll be happy. And if he’s any trouble, I’ll be here all day, so just send him
home.’

When Verity had been with them, she had set Kenny to raking and slashing down weeds – she’d even had him mowing the grass – and now most of the heavy work had been done.
Slowly, the garden was beginning to come round.

Dad won’t have too much to do now.

‘OK, Kenny, let’s do some weeding.’

Jake fetched the barrow and the gardening tools and persuaded Gran to come and sit in a garden chair and watch them. For a while she sat there quietly, but then she began to get restless. She
heaved herself out of the chair and tottered across the lawn, then grabbed a rake and began to stab at the grass with it. She grinned at Kenny and he smiled back and started to giggle, putting his
hand in front of his face.

Glad someone sees the joke. Well, at least the two loonies seem to be enjoying themselves.

But there was someone missing; he sensed that they were expecting Verity. They felt her absence as keenly as her presence and every now and again, either Gran or Kenny would stop what they were
doing and look towards the back door, as if they expected her to come out at any moment and take over.

Jake knelt down and started weeding, but he still got muddled about which were weeds and which were plants.

‘Gran. Are these things weeds?’ he asked. But she was away in her own world and ignored him.

OK, I’ll just guess, then. Try and remember the ones Verity told me were weeds.

Then:
Damn Verity
.

He soon realised that Kenny wasn’t much help at weeding, but once he’d been shown how to put the weeds into the barrow and take them over to the compost heap, he was tireless.

‘You don’t have to do so many journeys, Kenny. Wait until the barrow is full.’ But this was too much for Kenny to take in. Almost before Jake had pulled the weeds from the
ground, Kenny was snatching them from him, putting them in the barrow and wheeling it over to the compost heap.

Jake sat back on his haunches. ‘You’re too quick for me, Kenny. I can’t keep up. You’re too good at your job.’

Kenny beamed back at Jake and clapped his hands together.

Meanwhile, Gran had wandered back into the house, still holding the rake.

‘Won’t be long, Kenny. I’m just going into the house.’

Wearily, Jake went to look for her.

‘Gran!’

Gran had only been in the house for a few moments, but already she and her rake were causing havoc. She was holding the rake under one arm, its ends extending in both directions, while she
wandered through the rooms. Papers and ornaments had been swept off tables, crockery was on the kitchen floor, the clock on the mantelpiece was smashed and several pictures were hanging lopsidedly
from their nails.

‘Gran! What are you DOING?’

She swung round and immediately made contact with a table lamp – CRASH!

‘Gran, stop it!’ He was close to tears.

She looked at him then. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t shout!’

Jake took a deep breath. ‘Gran, just give me the rake, eh?’

She frowned, and seemed to notice the rake for the first time. ‘What’s this doing here?’ she said.

Despite his irritation, Jake smiled. ‘You brought it in with you, Gran.’

‘Did I?’

Then she seemed to lose interest. She dropped the rake on the floor and wandered off. Jake followed her and took her hand.

‘Why don’t you go back in the garden, Gran?’ She let him lead her back and settle her in the chair.

Please let her go to sleep now.

How did Verity cope with her?

He cleared up Gran’s wreckage as best he could, popping into the kitchen constantly to look out of the window and check on his charges. Gran was still sitting in the chair and Kenny was on
his knees by one of the flower beds pulling something out.
Probably some precious plant of Dad’s – but what the hell. Anything to keep him happy.

While things were quiet, Jake checked his phone.

A message from Tom. As he read it, his eyes blurred.
Good old Tom. He’ll never give up on me.

Then, angrily, he rubbed his fist across his eyes.
I’m falling apart! What the hell am I doing blubbing just because Tom’s being a good mate to me?

He read the message again.
‘I’m coming round to see you after school today. Don’t argue!’
He smiled. It would be good to have someone normal here. He texted back:
‘Great. CU.’

Gran dozed for the rest of the morning. Her face was peaceful and her mouth slack as she snored quietly. Sometimes she woke and looked about her but she didn’t stir from the chair.

Meanwhile, Jake tried to amuse Kenny. He fetched his football and they had a one-sided kick-about. Jake would kick the ball and Kenny would trot off and fetch it and bring it back.

‘Try having a kick, Kenny,’ said Jake, putting the ball at Kenny’s feet. But all Kenny did was pick it up and hand it back to Jake.

‘OK, mate, whatever makes you happy.’

Towards lunchtime, Irene popped her head over the fence. ‘I’ve made some food for you all,’ she said. ‘I’ll come round with it.’

Kenny picked up the football and showed it to her. Irene smiled at him, her face softening; quickly she looked away, bobbing back down behind her side of the fence. A few moments later she was
in the garden with them, a big tray of food in her hands.

Gran suddenly jerked awake. ‘Who’s that?’ she demanded as Irene came closer. ‘Is that Verity?’

‘It’s Irene, Gran,’ said Jake.

Please don’t say it!

‘What. Her-next-door?’

‘Yep.’

‘Huh! Send her packing.’

Jake knew that Irene had heard. Gran wasn’t exactly whispering.

‘Sorry,’ he said to Irene. ‘She doesn’t mean it.’

‘It’s OK, Jake. I know what she thinks of me.’

Jake looked at the ground.

Irene set the tray down on the garden table and Kenny lumbered over to inspect what was on it. Sandwiches, quiche, salad and drink and cake.

‘That’s brilliant,’ said Jake. ‘Thanks a lot.’

Irene sat down. ‘I get on much quicker when Kenny’s not with me. You’ve done me a favour, Jake, having him here with you. I can tell he’s enjoyed himself.’

‘That’s OK,’ mumbled Jake.

They all got stuck into the food and even Gran nibbled a sandwich and sipped some of the drink.

‘She’s very frail now, isn’t she?’ whispered Irene. ‘Is she eating properly?’

‘Eh?’ said Gran, looking round sharply.

Jake shook his head. ‘She’s not eating much.’

Irene put her hand on Jake’s arm. He tried not to flinch.

She’s only trying to be kind.

‘I’ve cooked another casserole for you. I’ll bring it round later.’ Then, before Jake could reply, she went on, ‘And if you like, I’ll be with your gran
tomorrow if you want to go and visit your mum in hospital. You usually go on a Saturday, don’t you? Me and Kenny can stay here. She’ll be quite safe.’

How does she know we always go on a Saturday? Sticky beak!

But he nodded. ‘Thanks. That would be good.’

How has it come to this? Last time I went to see Mum, Gran
drove
me there, for goodness’ sake.

I wish Dad was here. I wish Mum had had the baby.

I wish Verity was back. NO! I
don’t
wish she was back.

Irene went into the house and came out again with a basket full of damp washing. She started pegging it out on the line. Kenny helped her, taking Gran’s nightie, sheets and duvet cover out
of the basket and holding them out to his mum.

Jake felt ashamed for Gran.

***

Tom came round after school and they went out into the garden and messed about with the football.

‘Come on, mate, let’s go to the park and have a proper kick-about. You look as if you could use a break.’