Loose Connections

by Rosemary Hayes

  The worries drained from his mind. All that mattered was the present. The running, the dummying, the dribbling, the subtle little drifting hook shots to confuse the opponent, then the sweet thrill of perfect connection of boot with ball.

  He had no idea of time but, as the sun sank low in the sky, the other boys drifted off and the game broke up.

  On the way out of the park, Jake spotted a few magpies by the bushes. He nudged Tom and pointed to the birds.

  ‘I gave them Gran’s sandwiches.’

  Tom was still puffing. ‘Surprised they’re still alive, then,’ he said.

  Jake threw back his head and laughed out loud. It wasn’t that funny, but suddenly he felt a whole heap better. He put his arm round Tom’s shoulders and together they trailed back.

  ‘How’s your cooking?’ asked Jake as they approached his house.

  Tom pulled a face. ‘I can open a tin.’

  ‘Well, watch and learn, then. We’ve got all sorts of goodies from the supermarket and I’ll cook up a feast for you.’

  ‘Won’t your gran. . . ?’

  ‘No, believe me, mate, it’s a whole lot easier if we do it ourselves.’

  Gran was awake when they got in, but she was still drowsy and obviously surprised to see Tom.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jake whispered. ‘She can’t remember who you are, but she will soon.’

  Tom frowned. ‘But she saw me earlier,’ he whispered back.

  Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t make any difference. I told you. She’s getting worse all the time.’

  Jake surprised himself by producing a pretty tasty meal. Admittedly, most of it just needed heating up in the microwave or frying, but it worked and Gran didn’t try to interfere. She told him it was yummy – though she hardly ate any of it.

  And so did Tom. ‘Hey, that was really great. I never get a fry-up like that at home.’

  Jake and Tom were talking and laughing so much that they didn’t notice how little Gran said. She made a half-hearted attempt to help with the clearing-up but after a bit she wandered off and left them to it, and they soon heard the television blaring out from the lounge.

  ‘It’s funny,’ said Jake, loading the last of the dishes in the machine. ‘Gran never liked watching telly before. She used to read all the time.’

  Tom shrugged. ‘Maybe the words don’t make too much sense to her now.’

  Thoughtfully, Jake closed the dishwasher and pressed the start button. ‘Maybe,’ he said gruffly; there was that stupid lump in his throat again.

  Tom’s trying to understand. Perhaps he understands more than I think.

  Tom looked at his watch. ‘I’d better scoot,’ he said, ‘or Mum will freak out.’

  ‘Thanks for coming over. It’s been a sanity break.’

  Tom punched Jake on the arm, then he grabbed his coat and went out the door. Jake walked with him to the gate and stood watching him until he reached the end of the street. Tom turned and waved and Jake raised his hand.

  Chapter Four

  That night, Jake was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, worn out by the strain of the hospital visit and the non-stop game in the park. He didn’t even dream.

  It was light when he woke up but still very early. He snuggled further down his bed, enjoying the luxury of knowing it was Sunday and that he didn’t have to get up for hours. He listened to the early morning noises: the birds singing in the garden, the far-off drone of traffic on the motorway, the sound of a lone car driving up the street. He tried to go back to sleep again but needed the toilet, so he forced himself to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed and staggered down the passage.

  When he came out of the toilet, his eyes still bleary with sleep, his semi-conscious registered that something was different. He opened his eyes properly and looked down the passage. Gran’s bedroom door was wide open.

  He hesitated. She’d probably been up in the night and hadn’t closed it. He ignored it and went back to his room, but as he reached the door, he turned back.

  Better check she’s OK.

  He shuffled back down the passage and peered into her bedroom, blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  Her bed was empty. He stood there, staring at it, the information taking a while to filter through to his brain.

  A tiny prick of fear.

  OK. So she’s got up early and gone downstairs.

  Damn it! I’m so tired. I want to go back to bed.

  He sighed, and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She wasn’t in the kitchen. He walked through to the lounge and then back through the kitchen again. He tried the back door but it was locked, so he stumbled to the front of the house.

  The front door was wide open.

  She must be out in the garden.

  Jake was fully awake now and he couldn’t pretend any more. He was starting to feel really scared and he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

  There was no one in the front garden so he ran round to the back. Maybe she was standing under the apple tree. She liked doing that.

  But there was no sign of her there, either.

  For a few moments he stood still, unaware of the damp grass under his bare feet. Where the hell had she gone?

  Oh God! I hope she hasn’t found the car keys.

  He raced to the drawer where he’d hidden them but they were still there – and so was the spare set.

  Think, Jake! Where would she go?

  He went to the front gate and peered up and down the street, but it was empty. It was still far too early for the people of Church Street to be up and about.

  Had she gone for a dawn walk and forgotten the way home?

  He stood on the pavement holding his hands to his head, suddenly furious.

  What the hell does she think she’s doing, scaring me like this?

  He tried to think rationally. If she didn’t turn up, should he tell someone? Who? The police? Dad? Mum? Irene?

  No, not Irene.

  Oh Gran, please come back to me. I can’t do this any more.

  He slumped down on the pavement, hugging his knees, too tired to think.

  I wish Mum was here.

  He could feel the tears coming.

  Stop it! Don’t be such a baby!

  But this time he couldn’t stop them. He lowered his head onto his knees and sobbed. Great heaving sobs that made his whole body tremble.

  He had no idea how long he stayed like that, but at last he’d cried himself out and he struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes on his T-shirt.

  He looked up and saw, through blurred vision, that the sky was still streaked with the red of dawn.

  Oh God, please let her be OK. What if she’s been run over? What if. . .?

  Suddenly he became aware that he was only wearing pants and a T-shirt. If he was to go searching for her, he’d have to put some clothes on.

  As he turned to go back to the house, he glanced quickly down the street one more time – just in case. He frowned. Was that someone moving in the distance, right at the far end of the street? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes! There were two figures coming slowly towards him.

  His eyes were still blurred and at first he couldn’t make out who they were but he started running, his heart pounding. Then, as he drew closer, he saw who she was with and he slithered to a halt.

  The girl from the empty house! The girl who sat on his wall.

  She had her arm in Gran’s and they were leaning towards each other, talking.

  Jake walked towards them slowly.

  Gran looked up and saw him. She smiled. ‘Hello, Jakey.’

  She’s behaving as if this is perfectly normal, as if she always takes a dawn stroll in her nightie.

  ‘Gran! What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m having a chat with Verity.’

  Verity. Weird girl, weird name.

  Jake glanced quickly at the girl. She was wearing a different T-shirt this morning. It said, ‘Save the Whales’.

  He tr
ied to take Gran’s hand but she shook him off.

  ‘Are you OK, Gran?’ he muttered, upset by the rejection.

  ‘Yes, love, of course I’m OK. Verity’s here.’

  Jake felt a surge of anger.

  ‘Verity’s here.’ What does that mean? She hasn’t a clue who Verity is. What is the girl doing, anyway? It isn’t natural to be up at this hour. And why is she getting all cosy with Gran?

  He was irritated that Gran looked so relaxed – happy, even.

  ‘Don’t look so cross,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘We’re on our way home now.’

  For a moment he wondered if this was part of some horrible dream. But it wasn’t. Gran was there in front of him, so was the girl.

  A slow blush started creeping up his neck and face as he realised he was standing in front of them in his pants and T-shirt.

  ‘I’m going to get dressed,’ he growled. He turned round and strode back to the house.

  When he got in, he raced up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door. He was trembling with rage. He thought of going back to bed and leaving them to it, but he knew he’d never go back to sleep now. Eventually, he struggled into some clothes and went downstairs.

  They were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Real coffee. The sort that Mum made.

  The girl must have made it. Gran only makes the instant stuff.

  He was furious with her. With them both. Scowling, he shambled into the kitchen. He didn’t look at them, but grabbed a couple of pieces of bread and rammed them in the toaster and kept staring at it so he wouldn’t have to turn round and face them.

  There was still a bit of burnt gunk left in the bottom of the toaster and wisps of smoke drifted up towards the ceiling.

  Verity sniffed. ‘What’s that smell?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Jake fiercely. ‘I can’t smell anything.’

  He could sense the girl shrugging behind his back: ‘OK, have it your own way.’

  Jake fetched some juice from the fridge and jam from the cupboard and he sat at the far end of the kitchen table hunched over his breakfast.

  ‘Verity has a pony,’ said Gran suddenly.

  What’s she on about? A pony? In Church Street?

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Jake. He wouldn’t address Verity directly. ‘Where does she keep it, then?’

  ‘Well, it’s in the garden at the moment,’ said Verity calmly. Her voice was very clear and stilted.

  I don’t believe a word of what she’s saying. She’s mad and she’s a liar.

  He took a vicious bite of toast.

  Gran and Verity went on talking softly to each other.

  What have they got to talk about? Gran doesn’t know anything about this girl. What’s she doing, worming her way in here?

  He swallowed the last of his toast and looked up at Gran. ‘What were you doing out there, Gran? Why were you walking up Church Street in your nightie?’ His voice was harsh but he didn’t care.

  There was silence.

  She doesn’t know the answer. She’s got no idea why she was there.

  ‘It was lucky she bumped into me,’ said Verity brightly.

  Bumped into her! How can you bump into someone at that hour in the morning?

  Jake turned to Verity, scowling. ‘So what were you doing? Singing in the dawn chorus?’

  Verity made a pattern with her finger on the table top. ‘I often get up early,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  I don’t trust this girl. I don’t like her. I wish she’d get out of our house.

  ‘Well, this morning I was looking for badgers,’ said Verity.

  ‘BADGERS?’

  Verity nodded. ‘They’re nocturnal. You can only see them at night or sometimes really early in the morning.’

  Jake’s mouth hung open.

  A pony? Badgers? She’s a total nutcase.

  Gran scraped back her chair and got to her feet. She stood there swaying slightly, and for the first time Jake noticed how frail she’d become. A horrible, heavy feeling lodged itself deep in the pit of his stomach.

  Verity got up and took Gran’s arm. ‘Do you want to go back to bed?’ she said gently.

  Gran smiled at her. ‘Bed. Yes, that would be nice.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ said Verity and they moved off towards the stairs, leaving Jake alone in the kitchen.

  She’s only been in the house five minutes and she’s taking over.

  He stayed where he was, seething, as he listened to the sound of laughter coming from upstairs. He jabbed his knife into the wooden table, taking pleasure in the scores he made in the soft wood.

  If I’m rude enough to her, p’raps she won’t come back. Irene’s bad enough, but this girl’s in a whole different league. Talk about interfering. Why can’t Gran see it?

  He continued to sit at the table, tapping his foot on the floor, his eyes glued to the bottom of the stairs.

  At last Verity reappeared. She came and sat beside him and to his fury he found himself blushing again. She was too close to him.

  He said nothing, and tried to edge further away from her.

  ‘Jake.’

  ‘Yeah. What?’

  Verity hesitated, then she said slowly. ‘You know what’s wrong with your gran, don’t you?’

  Jake bristled. ‘What d’you mean? Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s just a bit vague. Anyway, what’s it got to do with you?’

  He grabbed the knife again and went on jabbing it into the wood, but Verity kept watching him – until he began to feel self-conscious. He flung the knife away and it landed with a clatter in the sink.

  Goal!

  She was still looking at him. ‘It’s more than vagueness, Jake.’

  ‘How d’you know? You’re a doctor now, are you?’

  ‘Has she seen a doctor?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I dunno. Don’t think so.’

  ‘Is she here on her own with you?’

  Jake rounded on her. ‘What IS this? Yes, we’re on our own, but just till my mum’s out of hospital and my dad’s back from America – OK?’

  ‘Why’s your mum in hospital?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  There was an uneasy silence.

  Why doesn’t she just bugger off?

  ‘Look, Jake, I really like your gran. I could help you if you like. Just until your parents get back. You know, keep an eye on her when you’re out.’

  What! She’s a stranger! She doesn’t even know us!

  ‘We’re fine, thanks. We’re fine just as we are.’

  How many times have I said that?

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Anyway,’ he went on. ‘How come you’ve got the time? What about school? What about your parents?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve finished school,’ she said. ‘And my parents are still in the other place.’

  ‘You’re on your own in that house?’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t mind. I have the animals.’ She got up and headed for the passage.

  At last. Thank God for that.

  At the front door she stopped. ‘If you want me, you know where I am.’

  ‘No, thanks. We’ll manage.’

  She nodded briefly. ‘OK, it’s up to you.’ Then she looked him full in the face. ‘But you should get help, Jake.’ She paused. ‘You’re going to need it because I think your gran’s had a stroke.’

  And then she was gone.

  Jake stood in the passage looking after her. On the back of her T-shirt it said Save-Something- Else, but he couldn’t make out the words.

  A stroke! What did that mean? He’d heard of old people having strokes, but he thought they went all paralysed and dribbly. Gran wasn’t like that. It was just that something had happened to her brain and she couldn’t make the right connections.

  He chewed his nails, numb with tiredness.

  Did the girl really know what she was talking about? Who was she, anyway? And what sort of parents would leave their daughter all alone in t
hat house?

  What if Gran gets worse? What if she DIES? Will it be my fault if she dies?!

  He started to pace up and down. Should he get the doctor? But Gran would be furious if he went behind her back. Should he phone Dad? But he didn’t want Dad to rush back.

  And he mustn’t worry Mum. He’d promised he wouldn’t worry her.

  Next time we go to the hospital, I’ll go on the bus and leave Gran behind. I’ll tell Mum Gran’s got a cold or something.

  Random thoughts flew round his brain as he kept walking up and down the passage. Down to the front door – turn – down to the bottom of the stairs – turn – back to the front door.

  And then again, that feeling of someone, something, close to him, reassuring him – and his head started to clear.

  It’s happening more often now.

  He took some deep breaths.

  The doorbell rang and he jumped, his heart racing. He looked at his watch – still only eight o’clock. Perhaps Verity had come back. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or sorry. Why had she just dropped that bombshell and left? She might have stayed long enough to tell him what to do. But then, he hadn’t exactly made her feel welcome.

  Cautiously he went to the door and opened it.

  Irene-next-door was standing there. She was wearing her gardening clothes and her face looked lined and tired. She was holding something.

  ‘Hi,’ mumbled Jake.

  ‘Sorry to call so early, but I saw you were up,’ said Irene. She peered past him down the passage. ‘Is your gran in?’

  Jake ran his hand through his hair. ‘She had a bad night. She’s gone back to bed.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She nodded meaningfully.

  How can anyone put so much meaning into a nod?

  There was an awkward silence. Irene held out a casserole dish.

  ‘Here’s the casserole I promised you. I meant to bring it round last night,’ she said, ‘but then Kenny got bad. . .’ She trailed off.

  Jake was about to refuse it, but stopped. Gran wouldn’t know that Irene had made it. A few days ago she would have noticed, but not now.