Loose Connections (2 page)

Jake reached out and squeezed Gran’s hand. ‘Well, she’s wrong. And anyway, you’ve always been dotty. Nothing new there.’

Gran smiled. A real smile that spread all the way up to her eyes. The sort of smile that didn’t happen much now. She withdrew her hand and put it up to stroke Jake’s face.

‘You’re a grand lad,’ she said.

It’s not for much longer. If we can just hang on until Dad gets back.

They started eating.

‘I miss the dog.’

Jake frowned. Whose dog? His dog, which had died last year? Mum’s dog she’d had when she was little? One of the dogs Gran had had when she was growing up?

‘Which dog’s that, Gran?’

‘Bramble, of course. You know. You remember Bramble.’

Gran’s first dog. The one she’d been given on her tenth birthday. The one she was always going on about. No good telling her Bramble had died long before Jake was born – even
before Mum was born.

‘Sure. I remember Bramble.’

Jake relaxed. She’d be away now, talking about the past. About her childhood in the country, about her brother and her parents and all the animals.

As she chatted on, he let his mind wander.

Everything had been great until about two weeks ago. Then one day he’d come in from footie practice and found her walking round the house in her nightclothes at six in the evening. And
she’d not recognised him. She’d really scared him that day. She’d kept calling him Sam. Her brother was called Sam.

Maybe he should have phoned Dad when it happened, but he hadn’t. He knew Dad would rush home from America and then they might not give him the job at all – they might think he was
unreliable.

Jake had decided that Gran was just overtired.

But that night, he’d had one of his vivid dreams, the sort that don’t go away when you wake up the next morning. The sort of dream that merges with reality so that you keep reliving
it. That night, he had had the strongest feeling that there was someone in his bedroom; not Gran, not his mum or dad, but another presence. Not a frightening presence – a comforting one.
He’d had these experiences a few times before, but he’d never told anyone about them. It was usually when something sad had happened; he’d had one when Grandad died – and
when Mum lost the last baby.

Then the next day, Gran had seemed fine. She’d got up, packed his lunch and waved goodbye when he left for the school bus. But things were not the same.

As Gran droned on, Jake glanced up at the calendar hanging on the wall. Another three weeks until Dad came home. He took a deep breath. No. He
wasn’t
going to tell him. They’d
manage somehow. He couldn’t tell Dad – and Dad had said he mustn’t worry Mum; so there was no one he could tell. Except Tom, maybe.

But hey, perhaps Gran would get better. . .

Who am I kidding? She isn’t going to get better.

The phone rang, and Gran jumped.

‘I’ll get it, Gran.’

Jake picked up the receiver. ‘Hi, Dad. How are things?’

Gran looked at Jake. ‘Who’s that?’ she said loudly.

‘It’s Dad. Sends his love.’

He cursed silently. The last few times Dad had called, he had pretended Gran was out.

‘Yeah, we’re fine. Everything’s fine.’

Jake chatted on – about school, about footie, the words tumbling over themselves. When he’d run out of things to say, he handed the phone to Gran.

‘Dad wants a word,’ he said.

This is it. Dad will know something’s wrong.

‘Hello, love,’ said Gran, smiling into the phone. ‘Yes, I’m well. Yes, Jake’s a real help. He’s a grand lad. You don’t need to worry about us.
We’re managing just fine.’

Jake stared at her. She sounded completely sane. Yet only an hour ago she hadn’t even been able to cook a simple meal.

Gran put the phone down and smiled at him.

‘That was Sam,’ she said.

His dad was called Michael. What could he say? He started to put the plates in the dishwasher, the ones they’d just used and all the others piled in the sink.

‘I’ll do that, love,’ said Gran. ‘You go and do your. . .’

‘OK, Gran. I’ll go and do my homework.’

He watched as she picked up a plate and went towards the machine. The plate never made it inside. She put it down again and wandered off to look out of the window.

Quickly, Jake stacked the dishwasher and turned it on, then went upstairs to his room.

He didn’t start his homework. It was Friday night. It could wait. Instead he went online and chatted to his friends. Tom was going on about the holiday football course run by the local
team.

‘It’ll be great,’ he said. ‘If you play like you did today, they’ll select you for the juniors.’

‘Dunno if I can do the course.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Not sure if I can make it.’

‘What the hell. . .? You’ve been on about it all term.’

‘I know. I want to.’

‘Then do it.’

‘It’s not that easy. There’s things.’

‘What things?’

‘Things at home.’

Tom didn’t reply. In the silence, there was a ping. An email from Mum. Jake felt a tiny prick of fear as he opened it. He held his breath.

‘
Hi Jake. How was school? Everything fine here. Longing to see you tomorrow. Is Gran OK? Love you. Mx
’

He let out his breath. So long as everything was good with Mum, he’d cope. But he was dreading tomorrow.

‘
Yep. All OK here too. CU tomorrow.’
He hesitated, then added ‘
Love you too. Jx’

His eyes started to mist over as he hit Send. Angrily, he rubbed his fist into them and sniffed.

Don’t be such a wuss.

He sat back in his chair. More stuff was coming in from Tom, but he ignored it.

How would they get to the hospital tomorrow? Gran had driven him last week but it had been pretty scary. And she seemed worse now.

Could he persuade her to go on the bus? It would take forever but it would be safe, at least, and he wouldn’t have to sit beside her having a nervous breakdown every time she jammed on the
brakes or swerved across the road.

Then there was the Saturday supermarket run. They’d have to take the car for that.

Last week, Gran had forgotten her PIN number when they came to pay and there had been an embarrassing scene at the checkout. She’d remembered her number in the end, but only after
they’d been through all her special numbers – her wedding date and every family birthday – so now he knew her PIN, and so did all the staff at Tesco’s.

He went offline, got up and stretched. Then he flung himself down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling but he couldn’t relax; there was so much crashing and thumping downstairs.

He heaved himself off his bed – better go and see what she was doing.

***

Gran was in the lounge, sitting on the floor surrounded by photo albums.

‘What’s up, Gran?’

She looked at him and smiled. ‘I’m looking for the photos of Bramble and the other animals,’ she said. ‘And the ones of Sam when he was little.’

Jake took the album she was holding and closed it.

‘Those photos won’t be here, Gran. They’re at your house. These are photos of us – me and Mum and Dad.’

She snatched the album back from him. ‘No!’ she said. ‘No, they’re here. I’ve seen them.’

Jake sighed, and sat down beside her. Together they turned the pages until they came to a photo of his own dog that had died last year.

‘Is that the one, Gran?’

She frowned. ‘Yes. Yes, I think so.’ She peered at it closely, chewing her lip. ‘Though I don’t remember him looking like that.’

Jake closed the album. went over to the television and checked the listings.

‘Hey, Gran. Here’s something you’ll like.’ He switched on. There was a long costume drama just starting.

‘Oh, good!’ She settled herself happily on the couch, immediately enthralled, while Jake picked up all the books, albums and magazines and shoved them back onto the shelves.

‘I’m going out the back, Gran. To kick a ball around. OK?’

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

Jake walked outside with his football and dribbled it round the back garden. But it was no fun on his own. After a bit he sat down against the fence and took his mobile from
his pocket. Three missed calls. All from Tom.

He pressed Reply. Tom sounded cross.

‘What
is
it with you? You drop this bombshell about the footie course and then you cut me off.’

‘Look, I’m sorry. Things aren’t so great here.’ Jake felt a lump rising up in his throat.

There was a pause. Then Tom spoke again. ‘Why don’t I come round yours tomorrow?’

‘No, we’re going to the hospital tomorrow.’

‘Oh yeah. I forgot. When you get back, then?’

‘Yeah. Maybe. I’ll call you.’ Jake snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket.

‘Jake! Jake, is that you?’

Jake swore under his breath and looked up. It was Irene-next-door, her face peering over the fence. She must have some special spying steps on her side. Why couldn’t the woman leave him in
peace?

‘Hi,’ he mumbled, getting slowly to his feet.

‘How
are
you, dear?’

‘Fine.’

Irene put on her ‘but-I-know-better’ face.

‘Your gran’s finding it hard to cope, isn’t she?’

Jake clenched his fists by his side. He couldn’t stand the way she said it – all that mock concern.

‘No.’

Irene gave a knowing smile. ‘I can see she’s not herself, dear. I’m worried about you. I promised your dad I’d keep an eye on you.’ She stretched out a hand over
the fence. Jake flinched, and backed away.

She’s lying. Dad would never ask Irene for help. Not in a million years.

‘We’re fine,’ he repeated, shifting awkwardly from one leg to the other.

How dare the woman trap me in my own backyard!

Irene wagged a finger at him and Jake cringed. ‘I’m going to cook a nice chicken casserole for you both and bring it round tomorrow. How about that?’

For a moment, Jake almost weakened. It would be good to have some decent food. But if Gran knew it came from Irene, it would choke her.

‘No thanks. Honest. We’re OK. We’re going to Tesco’s in the morning to stock up.’

Irene said nothing. She just smiled her superior smile. Jake knew she’d come round with the casserole, whatever he said. Suddenly he wanted to hurt her.

‘Can Kenny use the toilet yet?’ he asked.

The smile froze on her lips and her head disappeared.

Huh. Got you there.

He grabbed the football and ran round to the front of the house. There he sat on the low brick wall turning the ball in his hands.

He’d lived in the same place all his life. It was in a quiet street, lined with big old trees, and on this still summer evening people were walking past, some on their own, some with
neighbours, pausing to chat in the shade before going into their houses. Others had dogs with them and were heading towards the park. A couple of lycra-clad runners pounded by, frowning with
concentration.

Several people greeted Jake.

‘Hi, Jake. How’s your mum?’

‘She’s doing fine.’

‘Not long now, eh?

‘Just a few more weeks.’

He let his thoughts drift and closed his eyes; he was so tired. The noises in the street faded into the background and he felt himself drifting into a half-waking, half-sleeping limbo.

Suddenly he jerked his head up and squinted into the sunlight. Someone was coming out of the big old house at the bottom of the street – the one that had been empty for so long.

He shaded his eyes and stared. He frowned. He’d walked past it on his way from the bus. Surely the ‘For Sale’ sign had still been up then?

Lazily he watched as the figure came closer. It was a girl. Older than him, probably around fourteen. As she walked up the street towards him, he lowered his eyes and stared at his football. He
hoped she wouldn’t speak to him. He wasn’t in the mood for chat – specially with a girl. There was no one else in the street and he was conscious of her approaching footsteps.
Head down, he willed her to go past him, but she didn’t. She stopped right in front of him.

‘Hi.’

Reluctantly, he looked up. ‘Hi,’ he muttered. He felt himself blushing. He scowled and looked down again.

Go away.

She didn’t. Instead, she scrambled up onto the wall and sat beside him.

What’s she doing? How dare she invade my space?

He tensed, waiting for some girly drivel, but she said nothing. Eventually he raised his eyes to look at her. She was tall and skinny with long dark hair and she was wearing cut off jeans and a
T-shirt with writing on it. It said, ‘Save the Giant Panda’.

What’s that all about?

Still she said nothing, but sat beside him swinging her legs, humming tunelessly.

He was getting angry. What did she think she was doing, sitting on
his
wall?

She grinned at him. ‘Don’t panic,’ she said. ‘I’ll be gone soon.’

Jake’s blush deepened.

‘I’ve just arrived,’ she said, pointing to the house she’d come out of.

‘Yeah,’ muttered Jake. ‘The empty house.’

She looked down at her hands. ‘That’s right. The empty house.’

Then she jumped down off the wall, smoothed her hair away from her eyes and walked off. She looked back over her shoulder.

‘Nice meeting you.’

Huh.

At that moment, Irene came out of her door.

Jake waited for some stupid comment from her like, “Who’s your new girlfriend?” but for once Irene said nothing. She nodded briefly at him and walked briskly down the street in
the opposite direction. Suddenly Jake felt mean. He shouldn’t have said that about Kenny.

Gran went to bed early that night. Jake was messing around on his computer trying to do some homework when he heard her getting ready, clumping about in the bathroom, opening and shutting
drawers and cupboards. At last he heard her go into her room and shut the door and then, a few moments later, her bed creaked. He looked at his watch. He’d give it another half an hour.