Loose Connections

by Rosemary Hayes

  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.

  Chapter Two

  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.

  He gave up on the homework and phoned Tom. Tom was still going on about the footie course.
/>   ‘What’s the problem? Your gran’ll let you go, won’t she?’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What is it, then?’

  Jake didn’t answer.

  ‘Come on, Jake. I’m your best mate, for God’s sake.’

  Jake still didn’t answer.

  ‘Jake – what’s wrong?’

  Jake sighed. ‘I think Gran’s losing it.’

  There, he’d said it.

  ‘But she’s always been scatty,’ said Tom. ‘That’s what’s great about her. And her sandwiches are just hysterical.’

  ‘It’s more than that. . .’

  How can I explain?

  ‘It’s getting really bad, Tom. These last two weeks . . . she forgets things all the time and she’s doing stuff. . .’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Dangerous stuff. Leaving things burning on the cooker, leaving water running, things like that.’

  ‘That’s a bit heavy. Why don’t you tell your dad?’

  ‘I don’t want to worry him; if he comes home early from the training, they might not give him the job.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he want to know?’

  Don’t YOU start!

  ‘I can manage,’ he said, and his voice was tight. ‘Look there’s only another week of school then I can be here all the time – keep an eye on her. . .’

  ‘What about your neighbour. Couldn’t she help?’

  For God’s sake, Tom!

  ‘No way! Gran screams at her whenever she comes round. She’d murder her if she had the chance.’

  No reply.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, mate. I really want to do the course with you. . .’

  ‘OK.’

  He switched off his phone. For a few moments he sat at his computer staring at the screensaver. He’d been looking forward to the footie course all year.

  He got up and tiptoed along to Gran’s room. He opened the door quietly and crept over to her bed. She was snoring gently.

  Yep! The electric blanket was on high. Jake turned it off. Then he went downstairs and pulled most of the plugs out of their sockets. The TV. The cooker. The electric kettle. The microwave. The dishwasher. The washing machine. Sometimes Gran woke up in the night and started wandering around, turning things on.

  Ever since she’d had her ‘turn’ he’d had to check up on her. He could never really relax.

  It was a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep and then he had horrible dreams. Dreams of Gran crashing the car, setting the house on fire, crossing the road in front of a lorry. . .

  He woke up, his heart thumping.

  It was only a dream, for God’s sake!

  When he went back to sleep he dreamt about her again, but this time she was the old Gran, the Gran he loved. Funny, irreverent, up for anything, full of surprises, running up and down the pitch at matches, shouting encouragement, bringing him outrageous presents. Telling Irene where to get off.

  Just before he woke, he had the feeling, again, that there was someone beside him. But as he became conscious and looked round the room, nothing had changed. All his clothes lay in an untidy heap on the floor, and no one else was there. It was early and he lay in bed for a while remembering the good times with Gran. The house was quiet. She must still be asleep.

  If she’d slept well, she’d not be too bad. She was always better in the morning.

  Jake got up, went downstairs and made himself some breakfast. Then he took Gran up a mug of tea.

  She was just stirring when he went in. She sat up, put on her glasses and took the tea from him.

  ‘Lovely, Jakey. Thank you.’

  ‘Gran, today we’ve got. . .’

  ‘I know, darling. We’ve got to get to the supermarket, and then we’re off to the hospital this afternoon to see Mum.’

  ‘You remembered!’

  She gave a slight frown. ‘Of course I remembered!’

  A tiny spark of hope. P’raps she’s getting better. P’raps it’ll be OK now.

  Later they sat down and made a long shopping list.

  ***

  The trip to the supermarket went really well. Gran was wearing odd socks and the same stained jersey as yesterday, but she seemed at ease driving the car and she only forgot the way once. Her parking was a bit bizarre, but she remembered to turn off the ignition and put on the handbrake.

  They walked up and down the aisles checking their list and lobbing things into the trolley. Occasionally Gran would reach for something they didn’t need.

  ‘No, Gran. Not that.’ Jake caught the items before they made it into the trolley. He replaced a pack of nappies, a 2-for-1 pack of deodorant, a fistful of soaps, a huge carton of a washing powder Mum never used, some barbeque fuel and four jumbo rolls of cling film.

  And he slipped a few things into the trolley that weren’t on the list: five pies, five bars of chocolate and five cans of Coke (sorry, Mum); this week he was going to do his own lunches.

  When their shopping had gone through the checkout, Gran opened her handbag and stood peering into it, frowning. Jake waited for a bit while the checkout lady drummed her fingers on the counter, then he rummaged inside the handbag, found Gran’s card, popped it in the machine and quickly keyed in her PIN. The lady at the checkout looked a bit surprised, but it all went through OK so she didn’t say anything.

  Gran’s driving was more erratic on the way home.

  ‘Gran! GRAN, STOP! The light’s gone red!’

  ‘Sorry, Jakey. It’s the sun in my eyes.’

  It was a cloudy day. Not a ray of sun to be seen.

  When they got back to the house, Jake made a game of putting the shopping away.

  ‘And the toilet paper goes in. . .?’

  ‘The bathroom!’ yelled Gran, grabbing the rolls and running to the bathroom.

  Quickly, Jake put a few more items away before she came back.

  ‘And the washing powder goes in. . .’ He saw her hesitate.

  ‘The laundry!’ he finished.

  She smiled. ‘The laundry!’ she shouted, grabbing it from him and trotting off.

  Like this, they got everything sorted – or most things. He’d seen when she’d got it wrong; he could put things back where they belonged later.

  ‘All finished,’ he said at last.

  Gran clapped her hands. ‘Let’s have a cuppa!’ She wandered over to the electric kettle and switched it on.

  ‘You need to put some water in it, Gran,’ said Jake automatically.

  She unplugged the kettle and took off the lid. ‘Rubbish. There’s plenty of water in it.’ Sometimes she surprised him.

  ‘Sorry, Gran. Thought it was empty.’

  She turned and smiled at him. ‘I may be scatty, darling, but I can still make a cup of tea.’

  Jake felt a lump in his throat as he watched her pour the boiling water into the teapot. As she turned to find the milk in the fridge (plenty of that – it would be sour long before they drank their way through it) he quickly popped a couple of teabags into the pot while her back was turned.

  She straightened up triumphantly, holding a carton. ‘Found the milk,’ she said.

  Couldn’t miss it.

  Later they made lunch together – soup and sandwiches.

  Jake thought about Irene’s offer of a chicken casserole and wondered whether she’d come round. Perhaps not. Perhaps she was still mad at him for saying that about Kenny.

  Jake finished his lunch. He was dreading the trip to the hospital, but they’d have to go.

  ‘Why don’t we take the bus, Gran? Save you driving.’

  Gran scraped back her chair. ‘Don’t be daft; it takes a lifetime on that bus. Now I’ll just go upstairs and change. Can’t go visiting your mum in this old jersey can I?’

  He wondered if she had any clean clothes left. She hadn’t used the washing machine for ages. He’d offered to do her stuff but she’d been cross. ‘I’m not having you wash my smalls!’

  A few minutes later, she came downstairs loo
king a million dollars. She’d brushed her hair, put on some make-up and was wearing a clean jacket and shirt. She was still wearing odd socks, but Mum probably wouldn’t notice.

  As they left the house, the sun broke through the clouds. Gran stretched. ‘Nearly the holidays, Jakey.’ He didn’t think she’d remember that school broke up at the end of next week.

  As Gran backed the car out of the garage, Jake gripped his seat. She was going out much too fast. He couldn’t help himself. ‘Watch it Gran. Slow down!’

  She took no notice, but she did stop when they reached the road, and as she swung the wheel round to straighten up, Jake saw the girl from yesterday sitting on their front wall again.

  Damn cheek. What’s she doing there?

  Gran saw her too. She put her foot on the brake and Jake lurched forward in his seat.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she said, shading her eyes and staring at the girl.

  ‘No one,’ muttered Jake.

  ‘She seems to know you. Look, she’s waving.’

  Jake scowled and shrank down into his seat.

  ‘Just some girl who’s moved into that big old empty house near the park,’ he said.

  ‘She looks nice. What’s her name?’

  Jake shrugged. ‘Haven’t got a clue. Look Gran,’ he went on crossly, ‘let’s get going, shall we? We want to get to the hospital before midnight.’

  ‘All right, love. No need to bite my head off.’

  Chapter Three

  Gran put the car in gear and they shot forward. Jake clutched the edge of his seat and tried to keep calm but as they sped up Church Street he screamed, ‘Watch that man, Gran!’

  Gran hadn’t seen the man. She slammed on the brakes and slithered to a halt, just missing him. He sprang back and shook his fist at her.

  ‘You shouldn’t be driving, you stupid old woman,’ he shouted.

  Gran said nothing, but Jake could sense her fury. She continued to drive fast, muttering to herself. At the main road she swung the wheel round to go left.

  ‘Right, Gran. You turn right here.’

  She didn’t reply, but yanked the wheel the other way and sailed out into the traffic without looking. There was a screech of brakes and the blast of a horn. Jake put his hands over his ears. He didn’t dare look back.