Loose Connections (12 page)

Jake shook his head. ‘It’s no good. I can’t leave Gran on her own.’

‘What! Not even for an hour?’

‘No!’ Jake’s voice rose. ‘I
told
you! That’s why I couldn’t come to school.’

‘OK, OK.’

They were silent for a few minutes. Tom looked about him.

‘Hey, who’s been tidying up here. Where’s the jungle gone?’

Jake smiled. ‘Mostly it’s been Kenny – and. . .’

Why can’t I say it? Why can’t I tell him about Verity? He’s my best mate, for goodness’ sake.

‘Kenny! Daft Kenny from next door?’

Jake nodded. ‘He’s OK, is Kenny,’ he said softly.

Tom frowned. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

‘Yeah, well. . .’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve got all cosy with Irene, too?’

Jake shrugged. ‘She’s been helping me with Gran.’

‘Really?’

Jake nodded. ‘Yeah, really.’ He turned to Tom. ‘I can’t handle Gran on my own now,’ he said. ‘You’ve no idea what it’s like.’

‘But Irene. . . !’

Jake grinned. ‘Yeah. Who’d have thought it, eh?’

There was a crash from the house. Jake jumped up and ran inside, closely followed by Tom. Gran was stumbling about in the kitchen, muttering angrily. All the cupboards were open and she had
dragged food out and flung it on the floor.

‘Where is it? Where’s it gone? What have you done with it?’

Jake went up to her and took her arm. ‘What is it, Gran? What have you lost?’

She swung round to look at him, her eyes hostile.

‘I DON’T KNOW!’ she shouted. ‘DON’T KNOW, DON’T KNOW, DON’T KNOW!’ Suddenly she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and started to cry. Jake
knelt down beside her and took her hand.

‘It’s OK, Gran, I’m here,’ he said. ‘We’ll manage.’

Jake and Tom cleared up the mess while Gran wandered off into the lounge and sat on the sofa staring at the blank screen in front of her. Jake followed her in and switched on the TV for her.

Back in the kitchen, he and Tom looked at each other.

‘Bloody hell, Jake. She’s not good, is she?’

Jake gave a mirthless laugh. ‘That, mate, is the understatement of the year!’

‘It’s really scary,’ said Tom. ‘You ought to get the doctor to come and see her.’

Jake shook his head. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘No, I don’t want other people interfering. If the doctor sees what she’s like, he’ll call in the social services
and then, can you imagine what they’d do? They’d probably put me in care!’

‘Don’t be daft!’

‘I’m not being daft. Look at it from their point of view. I’ve been left here by my parents to care for a mad old woman. They don’t know what she was like before she was
ill. They don’t know how quickly she’s changed. And they don’t know that Mum mustn’t be worried about anything. That’s the last thing Dad said to me before he left. I
promised him. I
promised
him I wouldn’t worry Mum.’

He could hear his voice rising, getting out of control. He stretched out his arms on the table and put his head on top of them.

Tom patted his back awkwardly. ‘I’m really sorry, mate.’

Jake raised his head and sniffed. ‘I’m knackered. I just want it to end.’

‘Once your dad’s back, it’ll be OK.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

And meanwhile, what do I do if she keeps messing herself, if she breaks more stuff, if she sets fire to the house?

After Tom had left, Irene came round with another casserole.

‘You need some proper food inside you, Jake,’ she said. ‘You look terrible.’

Thanks, Irene. That makes me feel a whole lot better.

‘Thanks. That’s great.’

‘Shall I get your gran to bed later?’ she asked.

Jake felt the relief flood through him. Ever since this morning’s episode in the bathroom he’d been wondering how he would get her to bed later.

‘Thanks. That would be good. But what about Kenny?’

‘I’ll make sure he’s watching one of his favourite DVDs. And if you could go and watch it with him, just keep an eye on him. . . ?’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

I wish I didn’t need her.

After Irene left, Jake warmed up the casserole in the oven and tried to get Gran to eat. She picked at it absently with her fork and some made it into her mouth, but after a while she pushed the
plate away. Jake gulped his food down. He was ravenous and he felt better after he’d eaten. He hated to admit it, but Irene was right. He did need some proper food inside him.

Gran wandered back into the lounge and sat down, once more, in front of the TV. She seemed quite content there on her own, so Jake sneaked upstairs to check out her room. He wasn’t sure if
Gran had been in her room since the morning and she might have had a hurling frenzy; he didn’t want Irene to find a tip there when she took Gran up to bed.

But if Gran had been in her room, she hadn’t done any damage. It was quite tidy. Irene had changed the bed and opened the window. Jake noticed that some of Gran’s things were in
different places. Irene had probably been picking them up from the floor.

He sat down on the edge of Gran’s bed.

I must think about tomorrow. I’ll take the bus to the hospital to see Mum and then I’ll get food from the supermarket near the hospital.

Food! I’ll need money. Or Gran’s card, anyway. I can’t ask Mum for money. She’ll get suspicious. I know what she’d say. ‘Surely Gran’s got enough
money? You know we put money in her account for food and household stuff.’

No, I’ll have to find her purse and take some money – or better still, take her card. But what if I can’t find it? She won’t have a clue where it is.

Wearily, Jake got up off the bed and started to look round for Gran’s handbag. He saw it straight away, hanging on the back of the door, but when he looked inside there was no purse
– and no cards either.

He started hunting. He rummaged through every drawer and every pocket in the clothes cupboard. He found some loose change, some pebbles, a broken pair of specs, masses of screwed-up tissues, but
no purse. What had she done with it? She hadn’t left it anywhere daft, had she? But she hadn’t been out of the house for days. It could only be in the house or in the garden.

He sat down on the bed again, his head in his hands. He’d just have to ask her. But he knew she wouldn’t remember.

He sighed, and looked down at his feet.

Under the bed! That was the only place he hadn’t looked. Quickly, he got down on all fours and peered beneath the bed.

Gran!

He started laughing. How had she managed to hide all this stuff here? She must have poked it into the middle, so that no one could see it. He could imagine her lying on the floor with her
umbrella, shoving all her precious things in a heap, far under the bed. Even sharp-eyed Irene hadn’t discovered her hiding-place when she was changing the sheets.

Still giggling to himself, Jake wriggled under the bed and started to retrieve Gran’s heap of treasure.

First, her purse. Then some jewellery, her picture of Grandad and some other precious bits and pieces. Jake brought them all out from under the bed. He put the jewellery and other things in the
drawer in the dressing-table and the picture of Grandad on the bedside table.

Hope she doesn’t think Irene’s been snooping. I’ll have to tell her it was me, if she gets cross.

When he’d finished, he opened the purse. Not much cash, but all her cards were here. Hurrah!

He took out her debit card – thank God he knew the pin number – and put it carefully in the pocket of his jeans.

He was just about to close the purse when he saw a photo at the back. Idly, he pulled it out, wondering if it was another one of Grandad – or Mum – or him, even. Or possibly that dog
Bramble she was always going on about. As he eased it out, he could see that it was an old black and white photo she must have had for a long time. The image was creased and the corners grubby with
constant handling. He held it out and stared at it.

He frowned, and suddenly he started to tremble. There was no doubt about the identity of the girl in the photo with that long dark hair. She was crouching down beside a dog, smiling up at the
photographer.

Verity!

Gran
knows
her! She’s
alway
s known who she is! Why didn’t she tell me? Why’s she kept it a secret from me?
For a moment he felt completely muddled. Was
this the dog Gran talked about – Bramble?

Then he shook his head. ‘Don’t be so stupid, Jake,’ he muttered out loud. ‘Bramble was Gran’s dog when she was a child.’

It must be one of Verity’s injured animals.

He peered more closely at the photo but he couldn’t see any obvious bandages or splints on the dog.

P’raps it has had a miracle cure!

He looked at the photo for a long time, then he replaced it carefully, closed the purse and went over to the bedroom door. He took Gran’s bag from the back of the door and put the purse
inside.

He went slowly downstairs and into the lounge. Gran was wriggling around on the sofa, muttering. She wasn’t watching the TV, and all the cushions had been tossed on the
floor.

‘You OK, Gran?’

She looked up at him. At first her face was screwed up in a frown, but then her expression cleared.

‘Hello, love.’

Jake fetched some of the old photo albums and brought them over. ‘Shall we look for your dog, Gran?’

‘Eh?’

‘Bramble. Shall we look for Bramble?’

She smiled then, and together they started turning the pages of the album. Every time they came across a dog, Jake pointed at it.

‘Is that Bramble, Gran?’ But each time she shook her head.

‘What was he like, Gran?

What was Bramble like?’ Her face softened. ‘Lovely,’ she said quietly. ‘He was lovely.’

After a while, Jake felt his eyes begin to droop. Gran was already dozing and eventually he gave in; he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

They were still there, slumped together on the sofa when Irene came back to take Gran up to bed. She stood at the door for a while, looking at them, both fast asleep. Then she walked into the
room and gently shook Jake’s shoulder.

‘Sorry to wake you, Jake, but I need to put your gran to bed now.’

Jake took a while to surface.

‘What. Whatisit?’ Then he focused on Irene.

‘Can you go and sit with Kenny now, Jake?’

Jake struggled to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ‘Yeah. Yeah. Sure.’ He stretched and yawned.

Their voices woke Gran and her eyes snapped open. As soon as she saw Irene, she pointed at her.

‘What’s she doing here? Who is she?’

‘It’s OK, Gran. She’s come to help you to bed.’

Gran looked thunderous. Jake bent down and whispered in her ear, ‘Verity sent her.’ Gran still looked sulky, but she let Irene and Jake help her up from the sofa. In the place where
she’d been sitting there was a large damp patch. Irene and Jake both noticed it and Jake looked helplessly at Irene.

‘Don’t worry, Jake,’ said Irene. ‘I’ll deal with it. You pop next door now.’

***

Sitting with Kenny was no trouble. He was completely absorbed in some kiddy DVD and he didn’t even react when Jake came into the room and sat down beside him.

When Irene came back, she handed Jake a list. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Jake,’ she said, her voice unsure. ‘If you’re going to the shops tomorrow, I made a note of
some of the things you’ll need.’

Jake took it. ‘Thanks.’

I was going to do that. Stop taking over.

‘Your gran’s in bed now,’ she said.

‘Was she OK?’

For a moment Irene hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly.

She’s only saying that so I don’t worry. I bet she was a nightmare.

‘Thanks.’

That’s all I keep saying to her. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.

***

Saturday.

Jake was walking down the road to get the bus to the hospital. Irene and Kenny were with Gran and Jake closed his mind to what she might do – or say – to Irene.

Bet she won’t gran-sit again, after this morning.

He walked on down the road. As he came to the big old house he hesitated in front of it. The ‘For Sale’ sign was still there and the gate was still lying on the ground, both hinges
broken.

So I didn’t imagine it. I really was there – and I did break the gate.

He glanced up briefly at the house. Nothing had changed. It stood there in its wild and neglected garden, giving up no secrets.

I suppose Verity is inside bandaging up another wild animal. Nutter.

A part of him really wanted to go to the house and see if he could find her, ask her to come back. This morning, when he’d told Gran that Irene was coming to be with her, she’d
reacted angrily.

‘Where’s Verity? Why have you sent her away?’

He’d just shrugged and not answered. Then, when Irene had arrived with Kenny in tow, Gran had scowled at them and started to mutter.

Please God, don’t let her hit Irene.

Jake stood at the bus stop, his mind jumping ahead to the questions he knew that Mum would ask him. At last the bus drew up, its engine throbbing, and the doors opened with a hiss. Jake climbed
up the steps, gave his fare to the driver and found a window seat near the back.

Just as the bus set off, he glanced casually back up Church Street. Then he stiffened and looked more closely, rubbing the window with his sleeve to make the image clearer. He frowned. Was that
her? He pressed his nose to the glass and peered out of the window.

Verity was squatting at the edge of the pavement, cradling something in her arms. She seemed insubstantial, somehow, and the refracted light through the window of the bus was distorting her
image.

She looks weird. Sort of shimmering.

Then, as he continued to stare, she pushed her hands upwards, releasing what she was holding, and Jake saw a large black bird fluttering uncertainly above her. At first it faltered and Jake
thought that it was going to plummet to the ground but, as he watched, it came out of its nose-dive and started to flap vigorously, circling her once and then gaining height and soaring high up
into the sky.