Granny Rags

by Janet Reid

  ‘I just wanted to see how things were rolling,’ said Ray. ‘You know, with our little project.’

  ‘You could have rung me at the office.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but I was just passing. Saw your car. Thought I’d drop in. Any progress with that block down by the creek?’

  ‘You mean Mrs Ragdale’s? Yeah, there’s been some progress, but I haven’t convinced her yet. But I will.’

  ‘Yeah? What if she still says no?’ asked Ray.

  ‘Well, let’s just say I’ve … hmmm … found someone who will take care of it for me,’ said Barry. ‘I’ve a feeling he’ll be able to – shall we say – talk her into selling.’ And he laughed. ‘Anyway, I see there’s a table full of desserts over there and I’m about to go and help myself. I’ll give you a call when …’ Barry’s voice faded away as the two men moved down the steps of the grandstand.

  ‘Did you hear that, Lockie?’ whispered Tim. ‘I bet this other person was the one who knocked the shed over.’

  ‘Y’reckon?’ said Lockie. ‘Dunno about that. That shed looked pretty wobbly. Anyway, Jacob saw it. What’d ‘e reckon?’

  ‘He just thought I’d been watching too much TV,’ Tim admitted.

  ‘There y’go then,’ said Lockie. ‘It probably just fell over.’

  ‘But what about this other guy?’ said Tim. ‘The one Barry says he’s got to take care of Granny Rags? The one he was just talking about?’

  ‘Yeah, dunno about him,’ said Lockie. ‘Y’think we could go and get some dessert now?’

  Tim sighed. ‘Sure,’ he said and followed Lockie to the dessert table. But he couldn’t help thinking that Barry Baxter was planning something. And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  The next day in school, Mr Martin told the class more about the community project they were working on at the moment.

  ‘We’re going to be looking at the history of our local area,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about when the area was first settled, and why. And we’ll explore the changes that have occurred in the past. And perhaps even look at the community’s future direction and what may happen to this area in years to come.’

  Tim was beginning to work out what was going to happen in the future – Barry Baxter was going to bulldoze as much as possible.

  ‘Now, for the first part,’ continued Mr Martin, ‘you’re going to write a report about some part of the history of the community. For this you’ll need to talk to someone who’s lived here for some time. Parents and grandparents would be a good start for most of you. Or a neighbour.’

  Great, thought Tim. Who was he going to talk to? He hardly knew anyone in the area.

  Then he thought of Granny Rags—

  ‘After you’ve given the reports, we’ll finish up with a special afternoon when you can invite the person you got your information from along to the school to celebrate the community’s history.’

  Tim’s idea fizzled. How would he get Granny Rags to come along to school when she was a recluse?

  And she had no car now anyway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Lockie?’

  Lockie opened his eyes and looked at Tim through his long fringe.

  ‘Why are we supposed to take fish to Granny Rags?’

  ‘We?’ asked Lockie.

  ‘You know, the new kids.’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Lockie. He tugged gently on his line then relaxed his grip. ‘Just know that’s what Oliver said he took down there.’

  ‘Don’t you reckon that’s strange?’ asked Tim. ‘That this fish thing only started with Oliver?’

  ‘Who said it started with Oliver? Mighta always been like that. But y’know what I reckon is strange? Granny Rags’ car.’

  Lockie sat forward and pulled on his line again, checking it hadn’t snagged.

  ‘I mean, she never goes anywhere so why would she ‘ave a car?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think she’s driven it for years,’ said Tim. ‘There was grass growing all around it, and it was rusty.’

  As the boys lapsed back into silence, Tim thought about all that had happened in the last week. The trip out with Jacob to Granny Rags’ place; the shed falling over; swimming club night, and overhearing Barry and Ray talking; Oliver saying Granny Rags was leaving; Barry Baxter planning to bulldoze the Russell farm …

  ‘Hey, Lockie? What did your dad think about Barry Baxter bulldozing the Russell farm? I mean, did he think that was okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so, cos he said somethin’ about it probably bein’ good for the town.’

  ‘Did you ask him about Granny Rags’ place?’

  ‘No way. He’d want t’know why I wanted t’know. Did y’ever end up sayin’ anythin’ to y’mum and dad?’ asked Lockie.

  Tim felt his stomach pinch. ‘No,’ he said. He’d meant to; it was just that he could never find the right time. ‘I’ll tell them tonight,’ he said, as much to himself as to Lockie.

  The afternoon heat pressed down and once again the boys slipped into silence. Dragonflies hovered on the water in front of them before darting away, and the occasional bird flittered across the surface, snapping at insects. Tim began to feel sleepy. He thought about his new life here in Rowington. He’d only been here three weeks and already things were changing. His mind wandered to what Rowington might have been like years ago …

  ‘Lockie?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Lockie sleepily.

  ‘You know that project we have to do for Mr Martin?’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘Who are you going to talk to?’

  Lockie straightened. ‘Dunno. Maybe I’ll get m’grandad,’ he said. ‘Just ‘ope he doesn’t go tellin’ me silly stuff, but. Who are you gettin’?’

  ‘Well … I did think about Granny Rags—’

  ‘Y’kiddin’. Granny Rags? Y’reckon she’d come along to the school?’

  Tim shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Only one way to find out though. I’m going to ask her. You want to come with me?’

  ‘Me? No way,’ said Lockie, jerking hard on his line.

  ‘She’s got Monte Carlo biscuits,’ said Tim.

  ‘Thought you said they were Nice biscuits, those ones with the sugar on top.’

  Tim shook his head. ‘Remember I helped take out her groceries last week? Well, she bought Monte Carlo biscuits and green cordial this time.’

  ‘Green cordial? That’s my favourite,’ said Lockie.

  ‘Well … come with me then.’

  Lockie scrunched up his face and twitched his nose.

  ‘You sure she ain’t a witch?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sure. Is that a yes?’ Tim didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said, and he quickly reeled in his line and packed up the fishing gear before Lockie could chicken out.

  ‘Ah,’ said Granny Rags, coming around the corner of her house, ‘this must be Lachlan McKenzie. Kenny’s son.’

  Lockie eyed her suspiciously, then said, ‘Lockie actually. How can y’tell I’m Kenny’s son?’

  ‘Because you’re the dead ring of your father at the same age.’

  ‘You knew my father when he was ten?’

  ‘Back then, I knew everyone who was ten,’ she said and turned towards the back of the house. ‘You’ve got time for some afternoon tea?’ she called over her shoulder.

  Tim stepped forward to follow but Lockie grabbed his arm.

  ‘You sure it’s safe?’ he hissed.

  ‘Course,’ Tim hissed back. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ said Granny Rags, not looking up as they walked into the kitchen. She was busy making a pot of tea, the cordial and cold water already on the table.

  Lockie’s eyes darted around the room, and Tim wondered if he was looking for pickled frogs or poisonous mushrooms. But the shelves held little – a tea caddy and a small bottle of coffee, a bowl of sugar and some old cake tins.

  ‘Now Lachl … Lockie, Tim tells me you take after your father and play football,’ sa
id Granny Rags as she placed a plate of Monte Carlos in front of them.

  Lockie nodded, reaching for a biscuit.

  ‘I remember your father well,’ Granny Rags went on. ‘He was always so confident out on the field, though I think he was mostly showing off for the girls. He liked the girls, Kenny did. And they liked him.’

  ‘Whatta y’mean?’ asked Lockie. ‘Y’mean he, like, had lots of girlfriends? Yuk.’

  Granny laughed. ‘No, he didn’t have lots of girlfriends. Just a couple here and there. It was just that all the girls liked him. I think they all wanted to be his girlfriend. Who did he end up marrying?’

  ‘M’mum,’ Lockie answered, reaching for another biscuit.

  Granny’s lips twitched as she tried not to laugh.

  ‘Does she have a name?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Jill,’ said Lockie, as if he thought Granny Rags should have known that. ‘Did y’know her too?’

  ‘Jill? Jill Goodchild?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s ‘er.’

  Granny Rags seemed to drift back to another time. ‘Yes, I knew Jill. She used to like to read a lot.’

  ‘Y’sure?’ Lockie sounded puzzled. ‘Dunno about that. I’ve never seen ‘er read much. She won’t even read the directions on the back of the baked bean tin. What makes y’think she used t’read?’

  ‘I was in charge of the library here in Rowington,’ said Granny Rags, topping up her tea. ‘As a matter of fact, I was the first librarian in town. The library was tiny back then. An empty shop, that’s all we had. Later the council built a brand new library – much bigger, lots more books – with three of us working in there. Oh, I used to love getting in all those new books and reading them.’ Granny sighed. ‘But I don’t read much anymore. Not books anyway.’

  Magazines, thought Tim, remembering the grocery order.

  ‘I grew up in this town,’ she went on, as if now that she had started talking, she wasn’t going to stop. ‘I even went to school here. The school was quite small then. Only two teachers. After that I went to stay with my aunty all the way down in Morganvale so I could go to high school. You see, there was no high school in Coalview back then.’

  ‘Couldn’t y’have caught a bus to Morganvale?’ asked Lockie. ‘Would’ve saved y’havin’ to stay with y’aunty.’

  Granny Rags laughed. ‘There were no school buses back then, Lockie. But it was alright. I liked staying with my aunty. She didn’t have any children and she spoilt me rotten. Later I had to go to the city for university. I hated that. I hated being away from my family. But I was only gone for three years. When I came back, I was lucky that the library was just about to open and I got a job there. It was my first and only job.’

  Tim and Lockie had stopped eating. They just sat listening to Granny Rags talk about her life. Tim wanted her to go on, to find out more, but Lockie changed the subject.

  ‘What did m’mum like to read?’ he asked.

  ‘Romance novels mainly, I think. You know, love stories.’

  Lockie grimaced. ‘Well, I’m glad she don’t read ‘em anymore. But m’sister does. She likes all that soppy stuff. Yuk.’

  Granny Rags laughed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a good romance story, Lockie,’ she said. ‘I’ve read a few of them in my time. But never mind that. What do you like to read?’

  ‘Simpsons comics. If I can get hold of ‘em.’

  ‘And you, Tim? Do you read?’

  ‘Yes, a bit. Ah …’ But Tim wasn’t thinking about what he read. He was thinking about what Granny Rags had told them about growing up here in Rowington, and how she used to work in the library.

  ‘Ah … Mrs Ragdale? I was just wondering … ah, at school, we’re doing local history and Mr Martin, that’s our teacher, he wants us all to bring along someone who knows some of the history of the district.’

  Granny Rags tensed and her lips tightened.

  ‘Well, I just wondered if you might … be my person?’

  She said nothing. So he said, ‘It’s just that I don’t know anyone else in town who knows any of the history and you grew up here and worked in the library and—’

  ‘You mean, go to the school?’ she murmured.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tim, holding his breath. He knew Granny Rags would be perfect.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tim, but I have no way of getting there,’ she replied brusquely.

  ‘Yeah, shame about y’car,’ said Lockie.

  ‘My … car?’ Granny Rags stared at him, as though she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  ‘Yeah, the one in the … ah, under the shed.’

  ‘Oh, that one,’ she said. ‘I haven’t driven that car for years anyway. Not since—’

  She stopped talking, her eyes suddenly full of tears. She stood and turned towards the sink.

  ‘Drink up,’ she said as she rinsed her cup. ‘I’m sure your parents will be wondering where you are.’

  Lockie kicked Tim under the table, his hands upturned as if to say “what was that all about?”.

  Tim shook his head and finished off his cordial. ‘Yes, Lockie. We’d better get going.’

  ‘But—’ started Lockie, but Tim hauled him to his feet.

  ‘See you, then,’ said Tim as they got to the door of the kitchen. ‘Thanks for the cordial. And the biscuits.’

  Granny Rags didn’t turn around. She just kept staring out the kitchen window.

  As the boys walked back down the track, Tim wondered what had just happened. Why was she so determined not to go anywhere? And why had she gone all quiet when Lockie mentioned the car?

  ‘That was weird,’ said Lockie, cutting through his thoughts. ‘One minute she was rabbitin’ on about the old days, and the next she was almost throwin’ us out.’ He lifted his hat and scratched his head. ‘Good biscuits, but.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Mum, can I join the town library?’ asked Tim.

  The Tricketts were just finishing their Sunday night tea: a treat – fish fingers, grilled, with potato wedges and salad. No carrots or broccoli.

  ‘Why?’ asked his mother. ‘What’s wrong with the school library?’

  ‘It’s just that we’re doing a unit on the local history and I thought I might get more information from the town library.’

  ‘Well, we’re both on afternoon shifts this week, so you’ll just have to wait till Saturday … no, isn’t that the day you’re going to football with Lockie? Maybe next week we can do it.’

  ‘But the unit will be half over by then,’ complained Tim. ‘Couldn’t I go by myself? I could ride my bike. It’s not far.’

  Tim’s parents looked at each other, then Dad shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not, Mandy. He’s always careful on the roads. Besides, it’s time he started doing things for himself.’

  Yes. Tim was surprised it had been so easy.

  The next afternoon Mrs Simmons, the librarian, handed Tim his new library card.

  ‘Now, did you have self check-outs at your last library?’ she asked.

  ‘I didn’t go to the town library back there,’ Tim admitted. ‘I got all my books from school.’

  ‘Well, come and I’ll show you how to use them. It’s very easy.’ And she led him to the scanners that would let him check out, and check back in, the books that he borrowed.

  Good, thought Tim. That way no one would know what he was borrowing.

  ‘Now, how about a quick tour?’ said Mrs Simmons. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘… this is the junior fiction section, and round here is the non-fiction. Over there are videos and DVDs you can borrow and …’

  ‘Can you tell me where I can find stuff on local history?’ asked Tim.

  Mrs Simmons nodded approvingly. ‘You must be in Mr Martin’s class. He said some of you might come in. We have a wonderful collection in our local history section.’

  She turned, heading to an open room at the back of the library.

  ‘Now, was that all you were after?’ she asked ten minutes later. Tim had two thin book
s and some pamphlets on the early history of the area.

  ‘Ah, I thought I might get a couple of books,’ said Tim, eager to get on with his plan. ‘You know. Just to read.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Just give me a hoy if you need any help.’

  Tim waited until Mrs Simmons was back at her desk before ducking into adult fiction. He picked three books off the shelves before slipping back to the junior fiction section. The first of the Harry Potter books was on display, and he decided it was time he read that. Next to it was a book called Jason Chen and the Time Banana. He wondered what a time banana was and had just started reading the blurb when a voice behind him said, ‘How are you going?’

  Tim jumped and dropped his books.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mrs Simmons. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ She bent down to help Tim pick up the books.

  ‘Oh, what’s this?’ she asked, holding up one of the books. ‘A Christmas Honeymoon? Tim, you realise this is adult fiction?’

  ‘Ah … yes.’ Tim could feel himself going red. ‘It’s, ah, for my mum.’

  ‘Hmmm. Well, your mum should really be coming in to get her own books,’ said Mrs Simmons.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tim. ‘But she’s … she has to work every day this week so she asked me if I’d get her a couple of books while I was here. She said she likes love stories.’ Then just to sound convincing, he added, ‘These are love stories, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ said the librarian. ‘See, they’ve got a heart sticker on the spine. I’ll let you take them this time, but tell your mother to come and join the library herself. Now, what you need is a bag to carry all these in. Let’s see if I can find something for you.’

  She made her way to the counter, opened cupboard after cupboard until she found what she was looking for.

  A few minutes later, helmet strapped on, Tim was heading out of town. The books, secure in their calico bag, dangled over the handlebars. If he was quick, it would only take him about ten minutes to get to Granny Rags’ house, and he’d be back before either his mother or father knew he was gone. Even as he thought it, he knew he should really tell them about Granny Rags. Perhaps tonight. But how was he going to explain all the times he’d already been out there?