by Crowl, Mike
Once he’d finished with the carrots and broccoli, Billy got the electric fry pan out of the pantry, switched it on and put some oil in. The meat was minced beef, as it often was. He chopped up an onion and a clove of garlic, let them sizzle in the pan for a minute or two, then threw in the mince. The room was soon filled with an enticing aroma, and Olivia came out of the lounge, her nose up in the air, breathing it all in.
Stevedore had stayed in the kitchen. Mince has a more interesting smell than books.
‘You could show me how to cook, Billy,’ she said.
‘I could, but Dad wants to be able to eat his tea, not give it to your dog. He’ll be here in a minute. You’d better get off home.’
‘I’ll go and wait for him, and wave to him as he walks up the street.’ She ran out the front door.
‘He’ll love that,’ said Billy to himself.
Billy’s Dad, Jerry, arrived not long after. By then the potatoes and carrots were boiling with gusto, and the meat, now mixed with tinned tomatoes and flavouring, was simmering more sedately.
‘All in order, Billy?’
‘Yes, Dad. Shouldn’t be too long.’ Olivia came in behind Jerry, as though she’d shepherded him home because he wouldn’t have otherwise found his way.
‘What happened to your hair?’ Jerry said. ‘Did you cut it yourself?’
‘It was a different barber, Dad. Never seen him before.’
‘Different all right. Looks like he’s into abstract art. What’s wrong with your ear?’
‘The barber tried to chop it off,’ said Olivia, giggling.
‘I see you’ve invited yourself and your smelly dog again,’ said Jerry, sitting down at the table and skimming through the morning paper. ‘Been a bit of a crisis in the lounge?’
Olivia gasped. ‘I forgot to pick them up!’ Off she ran. Soon there was another running commentary. But at least this time the books were being put away as well.
‘Hard to concentrate on the paper with all that muttering in the background,’ said Jerry.
‘Dad, what’s restructuring mean?’
Jerry put the paper down on the table. ‘It means that people who have all the money think their staff can be shuffled around like pieces in a board game. That’s what it means. The famous Triple W Sisters who took over the Factory last year have decided they can do without half the staff. I could lose my job.’ He sniffed. ‘Watch that meat. Smells like it’s burning.’ He picked up the paper again.
Olivia appeared. ‘So when will you know about your job, Mr Mumberson?’
‘Don’t you ever go home?’ Jerry asked. ‘Don’t your parents wonder where you are? Do they send you to other people’s houses to eat their food because they can’t be bothered to cook themselves?
Olivia said nothing, which was unusual.
‘Dad, she doesn’t eat anything here.’
‘I had a biscuit,’ said Olivia. ‘There was only one left.’
‘A biscuit here, a biscuit there. Soon I’m eaten out of house and home.’ He glanced at Olivia. ‘I suppose you thought you were going to share our tea as well?’
Behind his back, Billy mashed the potatoes within an inch of their life.
Olivia ran out the front door without another word.
‘Don’t forget your dog!’ shouted Jerry. Stevedore slunk along the passage, his tail between his legs. Billy let him out. ‘That’s one way to get her moving,’ said Jerry, stretching his legs out over the space Stevedore had been occupying. ‘Isn’t tea ready yet?’
Billy drained the carrots. He turned off the fry pan. He got dinner plates from the cupboard. He was serving out the food when the front door bell rang.
‘If that’s her back again, I’ll boot her down the street,’ muttered Jerry. He opened the front door. Billy peered around the corner of the kitchen door to see who it was. An old man and woman stood there. Strangers. Their hair stood up on their heads; the man had leaves in his. They were dressed in filthy, torn overalls, and were shivering. Their boots had holes in the toes, were down at the heel, and the shoelaces were broken and too short. They looked like they could do with a wash, and even from the kitchen Billy sensed a smell that didn’t belong to the evening meal.
‘What do you want? said Jerry. ‘Who are you?’
‘We’ve come home!’ said the man. He pushed past Jerry, flattening him against the passage wall, and marched into the kitchen.
‘And I can’t say I think much of the welcome,’ said the woman, slamming the front door behind her, and giving Jerry a withering look as she followed the old man.
Chapter 2 - The Strangers Make Themselves at Home
Jerry stayed flat against the wall for almost half a minute, his mouth open. It was only when Billy called out that he straightened up and came into the kitchen.
The old man was eyeing the food greedily. ‘Got enough there for a couple more mouths, young feller?’ he said, sitting himself at the table.
The woman went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. ‘Where do you keep your clean towels?’ she shouted. ‘Why aren’t they in the bathroom cupboard?’
‘Stop!’ said Jerry, finding his tongue again. ‘What are you doing?’ He grabbed the two steaming plates from the table and moved them to the bench. ‘Who are you?’
The woman came out of the bathroom. ‘I know it’s been a long time, Gerard, and we’re a bit older than when we saw you last. And dirtier.’ She glanced at Billy. ‘I suppose this is our grandson...’
‘Grandson?’ said Jerry and Billy simultaneously.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ asked the man. He took advantage of Jerry’s shock to stand up and grab a plate. Next thing he was shovelling food into his mouth.
‘Billy.’
‘What do you mean, Grandson?’ asked Jerry. ‘Stop eating our food!’
The old man ignored Jerry and sat down. ‘If your fool of a father would get his brain into gear,’ he said to Billy, between mouthfuls, ‘he’d tell you that we’re your long-lost grandparents. On the Mumberson side, that is.’
Jerry peered at the old man. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He stared even more closely. ‘You don’t look anything like my father.’
Mr Mumberson, carrying on eating, glanced at his wife. ‘Told you he’d have forgotten us.’
‘It was me who said that, not you,’ she snapped. ‘You claimed he’d never forget you.’ She took hold of Billy’s shoulder, and marched him down the hallway. ‘You look intelligent. Where are the clean towels?’
In a daze Billy took her to the linen cupboard in the hall for the towels. ‘The linen cupboard. Of course. I’m confused.’ said Mrs Mumberson. ‘Have you got anything in the house I can get into after I’ve had a shower?’
‘Mum’s probably got something that’ll fit you.’ Billy led her next into his parents’ bedroom where some of his mother’s clothes remained. Her perfume still hung faintly about them. There was a dressing gown there, and Mrs Mumberson took it, then poked around until she found some other items of clothing. ‘I’m sure your mother won’t mind. It’s only for a few days.’
‘She...’
‘That’ll do for now, thanks!’ said his grandmother, vanishing into the bathroom
When Billy got back to the kitchen Jerry was putting Mr Mumberson’s now empty plate in the sink. ‘Great,’ Jerry said to his father, ‘you’ve eaten my son’s dinner.’
‘I was thinking of starting on that second helping next. I guess that’s your dinner.’ Jerry grabbed it out of his way. ‘I’ve hardly had a thing to eat in days. It’s taken us over a week to get home. We had to go the long way round because that stupid witch flooded the Blasted Terrain.’
‘Witch?’ said Jerry.
‘Three days getting off the mountains. Three days! Snowed on day two. None of us had coats, except for young Toby.’
‘Toby who?’
‘Another three days traipsing through the wilderness, picking berries off the few bushes
we could find. Two more days walking down the highway. No one would give us a lift because we looked so filthy. Actually, we are filthy.’ He stood up, filled the electric jug, and turned it on. ‘Hope you’ve got enough water in your cylinder for another shower. Never used to be enough when we lived here.’
‘We had it fixed,’ said Jerry. ‘My wife used to complain about it.’
‘So where’s the little woman then?’
‘Madeleine. Her name is Madeleine.’
‘Mum’s gone,’ said Billy, hoping his Dad wouldn’t eat the meal he was still holding. ‘We don’t know where she went.’
‘Gone, eh?’ said Mr Mumberson. ‘Hardly surprising.’ He glanced at the meal that was getting colder by the minute. ‘I hope you’ve got enough dinner left for Mrs M. She’s even more famished than I am.’
‘We’ll start again then,’ said Jerry, with a set look on his face as though his teeth were stuck together. He and Billy set about preparing more food while Mr Mumberson scoffed the meal on the second plate.
Getting another dinner distracted Billy from the weirdness of having two total strangers take over the place. Strangers, even if they were his grandparents. By the time everything was ready, Mrs Mumberson had finished in the shower. Her husband took her place and proceeded to sing, completely out of tune, at the top of his voice.
Mrs Mumberson sat down at the table wearing clothes that belonged to Billy’s mother. They fitted well enough, because Mrs Mumberson was extremely thin. But it made Billy feel odd. His own mother should have been sitting there. He was desperate to ask his grandmother all sorts of questions, but his Dad didn’t look like he was in the mood for any discussions. They ate their meal in silence, and then Mrs Mumberson made herself a cup of tea as though she owned the place. In her mind, she still did. Now she sat with the steaming brew in front of her, quite relaxed. ‘So good to be home, Gerard.’
‘Don’t call me Gerard. You know I hate it. This isn’t your home. You abandoned it. You abandoned me.’
‘Abandoned you,’ said Mrs Mumberson. ‘That’s rich. As if we had a choice.’
‘You didn’t even leave a note to say where you’d gone. How was I supposed to manage on my own? I was only twelve! I wasn’t much older than Billy is.’
‘So how did you manage?’ his mother asked.
Jerry began to rinse the plates, ready for washing. ‘What do you care?’ He turned on the hot tap. ‘Your sister had to look after me. Your poor old invalid sister.’
‘She wasn’t an invalid at all. She was weak in the head.’
‘She was more than weak in the head by the time I’d grown up. She was nearly round the bend.’
‘That was always a possibility. Anyway, you survived. I suppose she did too.’
Jerry threw the plates into the sink. ‘No, she didn’t. She died when I was nineteen. I’d made her life hell for seven years.’
‘I’m glad I missed those years then,’ said his mother, sipping her tea. ‘Though it was no fun where I was. That was hell, too. Not that you seem interested.’
‘Where were you, grandm...’ Billy wondered what to call her. Granny didn’t seem right, because she didn’t look that old now she’d cleaned herself up. Grandma seemed like the sort of name you’d call someone you’d known all your life.
‘Your grandfather and I were prisoners. Prisoners in Grimhilda’s diamond mines.’
Billy’s eyes opened wide. Jerry gave a huge laugh - not that he sounded amused. ‘Prisoners in whose diamond mines?’
‘Grimhilda Pimple’s. It was only because she died a rather unpleasant death last week that we could escape and come home again.’ She turned to Billy. ‘A boy saved us. Toby. Bit younger than you.’
‘You’re as loopy as your sister, Mum. What sort of a fairy tale is this?’
Mrs Mumberson sipped her tea. ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe it. You never believe anything out of the ordinary.’
‘Try me,’ said Jerry, sarcastically.
Mrs Mumberson sighed. She ignored Jerry and spoke to Billy. ‘This is what happened. Grimhilda the witch kidnapped us when your father was twelve. She flew us off to her diamond mines to work for her.
‘Flew?’ said Jerry. ‘In her private jet?’
Mrs Mumberson ignored him again. ‘We worked without pay, without decent clothes, or food or anything. It’s a wonder we survived.’
‘And where are these so-called mines?’ asked Jerry.
‘In the Grimhilderness mountains.’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘They exist, let me tell you. They’re cold and high and we worked in a mine right inside the bottom of one. We were there for twenty years. There were a whole lot of other parents who hadn’t loved....’ She said nothing for a moment, then added, ‘parents who hadn’t loved their children.’
‘Well, that bit I can believe,’ said Jerry.
The rest of the evening didn’t go any better. The three adults squabbled a great deal. There was a big argument about where the older couple were going to live: Jerry didn’t want them staying in the house under any circumstances. They insisted it was still their house. He told them they’d been declared dead officially years ago, and didn’t own anything, which gave them an awful shock. Mrs Mumberson, who was on the verge of tears, asked, ‘But what will we do? Where will we go?’
‘We’ve been prisoners for twenty years!’ shouted Mr Mumberson at the same time as Billy said, ‘You can’t throw your own family out, Dad.’
‘Family!’ Jerry snarled at him. ‘I don’t call them family. A family doesn’t abandon its child.’ He jumped up, and his chair fell back against the wall with a bang. Glaring at his parents, he said, ‘You arrive out of nowhere with a ridiculous story. You don’t even apologise for leaving me when I was only a kid. You’re self-centred and...and....heartless!’
He marched to the kitchen door and tore it open. ‘Do what you like!’ he shouted, and slammed the door behind him.
‘Just like Grimhilda,’ said Mrs Mumberson. ‘Always slamming doors.’
Chapter 3 - A phone call and a text
Billy helped his grandparents sort out the twin beds in the spare room. Since his mother left, no one ever stayed overnight; Jerry didn’t encourage visitors. The room was musty and stale, but his grandparents thought it was a palace after sleeping in the hard bunks at the mine, or out in the open as they’d done for the last week. Billy found spare sheets for them, and blankets from around the house.
Mrs Mumberson was so tired she told Billy she’d go to bed straight away. ‘I’m very pleased to know you, Billy. You’re so helpful.’ She didn’t add, ‘Unlike your father.’ She gave Billy a hug. He hadn’t been hugged since his mother left a year ago.
His grandfather didn’t hug him. ‘Your Dad’s had a bit of a shock,’ he said. ‘He’ll come round in the morning.’ Mrs Mumberson rolled her eyes.
But if the arrival of the Mumbersons had been a shock to Jerry, it was nothing compared to the shock he got when the phone rang during breakfast next morning. He answered it and his face went white. ‘Madeleine?’ he said. ‘Madeleine?’
Billy jumped up from the table. ‘Is it Mum?’ His father put his finger to his lips, silencing him. Billy couldn’t hear what was being said at the other end, and his father’s mutters didn’t give him any idea of the conversation. Whatever his mother was saying took a lot of explanation. Jerry finally slammed the phone down.
‘Was that Mum?’ asked Billy.
‘Yes, it was your Mum. Typical. Typical! Rings out of the blue to tell me she’s got something she has to give me. Insists I go and pick it up. Straight away!’
‘You know where she is? Can I come?’
‘No, you can’t!’ shouted his father, more worried than angry. He went to sit down, then changed his mind. ‘I’ll have to take the day off work. They’re not going to like that. I wonder if Khafoops can cover my shift?’ He began to make himself sandwiches. ‘Your mum’s three hundr
ed kilometres away.’ He dropped some butter on the floor, and didn’t notice. ‘I’ll have to take the car.’ He looked at his knife, wondering where the butter had gone. ‘What am I going to do about you? You can’t stay here by yourself. Maybe Mrs Khafoops...’
‘Dad, my grandparents are here. They’ll look after me.’
‘Them? Look after you?’ Jerry’s face turned red - it seemed to be a day for his face to change colour. Mrs Mumberson had walked into the kitchen, yawning and stretching, as he spoke. She headed straight to the kettle.
