Loose Connections

by Rosemary Hayes

  ‘She didn’t try to hit you, did she?’

  Irene smiled again. ‘No, she just swore at me a few times – but I don’t think she knew who I was.’

  Jake moved towards the door.

  ‘Thanks for doing that,’ he said.

  ‘That’s OK, Jake. I’ll help out whenever I can, you know that.’

  ‘Dad’s coming home soon.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Irene. ‘You shouldn’t have to cope with this on your own.’

  Jake bridled. ‘I can manage.’

  Irene said nothing.

  ‘Most of the time I can manage fine. She hasn’t done that before – you know, messed herself.’

  ‘I know, dear. But. . .’ and she hesitated, spotting another stray piece of glass and picking it up, ‘things are going to get worse, Jake.’

  Jake said nothing.

  ‘There are people who will help you.’

  She means the Social Services. No thank you!

  ‘I’ll hang on till Dad gets back.’

  As Jake left, he thought about Irene, stuck with Kenny day in, day out. She had some part-time job or other and Kenny went off to the day centre a couple of times a week when she was at work, but the rest of the time she cared for him. And he was a big fellow. What happened if he got angry at her, if he lashed out at her? Did he ever get violent?

  And what had happened to Kenny’s dad? Had he just gone off when he realised what life with Kenny was going to be like?

  Chapter Nine

  The rest of the day dragged by. Gran was either asleep in the lounge or wandering around from room to room.

  She’s so much worse now. She didn’t seem so bad when Verity was here.

  Verity.

  He pushed thoughts of Verity away. She was a weirdo and he didn’t want her here.

  Just for something to do, he asked Kenny to come round and help in the garden. Irene was pathetically grateful.

  ‘Thanks ever so much, Jake. He’d like that. Just give him a little job to do and he’ll be happy. And if he’s any trouble, I’ll be here all day, so just send him home.’

  When Verity had been with them, she had set Kenny to raking and slashing down weeds – she’d even had him mowing the grass – and now most of the heavy work had been done. Slowly, the garden was beginning to come round.

  Dad won’t have too much to do now.

  ‘OK, Kenny, let’s do some weeding.’

  Jake fetched the barrow and the gardening tools and persuaded Gran to come and sit in a garden chair and watch them. For a while she sat there quietly, but then she began to get restless. She heaved herself out of the chair and tottered across the lawn, then grabbed a rake and began to stab at the grass with it. She grinned at Kenny and he smiled back and started to giggle, putting his hand in front of his face.

  Glad someone sees the joke. Well, at least the two loonies seem to be enjoying themselves.

  But there was someone missing; he sensed that they were expecting Verity. They felt her absence as keenly as her presence and every now and again, either Gran or Kenny would stop what they were doing and look towards the back door, as if they expected her to come out at any moment and take over.

  Jake knelt down and started weeding, but he still got muddled about which were weeds and which were plants.

  ‘Gran. Are these things weeds?’ he asked. But she was away in her own world and ignored him.

  OK, I’ll just guess, then. Try and remember the ones Verity told me were weeds.

  Then: Damn Verity.

  He soon realised that Kenny wasn’t much help at weeding, but once he’d been shown how to put the weeds into the barrow and take them over to the compost heap, he was tireless.

  ‘You don’t have to do so many journeys, Kenny. Wait until the barrow is full.’ But this was too much for Kenny to take in. Almost before Jake had pulled the weeds from the ground, Kenny was snatching them from him, putting them in the barrow and wheeling it over to the compost heap.

  Jake sat back on his haunches. ‘You’re too quick for me, Kenny. I can’t keep up. You’re too good at your job.’

  Kenny beamed back at Jake and clapped his hands together.

  Meanwhile, Gran had wandered back into the house, still holding the rake.

  ‘Won’t be long, Kenny. I’m just going into the house.’

  Wearily, Jake went to look for her.

  ‘Gran!’

  Gran had only been in the house for a few moments, but already she and her rake were causing havoc. She was holding the rake under one arm, its ends extending in both directions, while she wandered through the rooms. Papers and ornaments had been swept off tables, crockery was on the kitchen floor, the clock on the mantelpiece was smashed and several pictures were hanging lopsidedly from their nails.

  ‘Gran! What are you DOING?’

  She swung round and immediately made contact with a table lamp – CRASH!

  ‘Gran, stop it!’ He was close to tears.

  She looked at him then. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t shout!’

  Jake took a deep breath. ‘Gran, just give me the rake, eh?’

  She frowned, and seemed to notice the rake for the first time. ‘What’s this doing here?’ she said.

  Despite his irritation, Jake smiled. ‘You brought it in with you, Gran.’

  ‘Did I?’

  Then she seemed to lose interest. She dropped the rake on the floor and wandered off. Jake followed her and took her hand.

  ‘Why don’t you go back in the garden, Gran?’ She let him lead her back and settle her in the chair.

  Please let her go to sleep now.

  How did Verity cope with her?

  He cleared up Gran’s wreckage as best he could, popping into the kitchen constantly to look out of the window and check on his charges. Gran was still sitting in the chair and Kenny was on his knees by one of the flower beds pulling something out. Probably some precious plant of Dad’s – but what the hell. Anything to keep him happy.

  While things were quiet, Jake checked his phone.

  A message from Tom. As he read it, his eyes blurred. Good old Tom. He’ll never give up on me.

  Then, angrily, he rubbed his fist across his eyes. I’m falling apart! What the hell am I doing blubbing just because Tom’s being a good mate to me?

  He read the message again. ‘I’m coming round to see you after school today. Don’t argue!’ He smiled. It would be good to have someone normal here. He texted back: ‘Great. CU.’

  Gran dozed for the rest of the morning. Her face was peaceful and her mouth slack as she snored quietly. Sometimes she woke and looked about her but she didn’t stir from the chair.

  Meanwhile, Jake tried to amuse Kenny. He fetched his football and they had a one-sided kick-about. Jake would kick the ball and Kenny would trot off and fetch it and bring it back.

  ‘Try having a kick, Kenny,’ said Jake, putting the ball at Kenny’s feet. But all Kenny did was pick it up and hand it back to Jake.

  ‘OK, mate, whatever makes you happy.’

  Towards lunchtime, Irene popped her head over the fence. ‘I’ve made some food for you all,’ she said. ‘I’ll come round with it.’

  Kenny picked up the football and showed it to her. Irene smiled at him, her face softening; quickly she looked away, bobbing back down behind her side of the fence. A few moments later she was in the garden with them, a big tray of food in her hands.

  Gran suddenly jerked awake. ‘Who’s that?’ she demanded as Irene came closer. ‘Is that Verity?’

  ‘It’s Irene, Gran,’ said Jake.

  Please don’t say it!

  ‘What. Her-next-door?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Huh! Send her packing.’

  Jake knew that Irene had heard. Gran wasn’t exactly whispering.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said to Irene. ‘She doesn’t mean it.’

  ‘It’s OK, Jake. I know what she thinks of me.’

  Jake looked at the ground.

  Irene s
et the tray down on the garden table and Kenny lumbered over to inspect what was on it. Sandwiches, quiche, salad and drink and cake.

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ said Jake. ‘Thanks a lot.’

  Irene sat down. ‘I get on much quicker when Kenny’s not with me. You’ve done me a favour, Jake, having him here with you. I can tell he’s enjoyed himself.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ mumbled Jake.

  They all got stuck into the food and even Gran nibbled a sandwich and sipped some of the drink.

  ‘She’s very frail now, isn’t she?’ whispered Irene. ‘Is she eating properly?’

  ‘Eh?’ said Gran, looking round sharply.

  Jake shook his head. ‘She’s not eating much.’

  Irene put her hand on Jake’s arm. He tried not to flinch.

  She’s only trying to be kind.

  ‘I’ve cooked another casserole for you. I’ll bring it round later.’ Then, before Jake could reply, she went on, ‘And if you like, I’ll be with your gran tomorrow if you want to go and visit your mum in hospital. You usually go on a Saturday, don’t you? Me and Kenny can stay here. She’ll be quite safe.’

  How does she know we always go on a Saturday? Sticky beak!

  But he nodded. ‘Thanks. That would be good.’

  How has it come to this? Last time I went to see Mum, Gran drove me there, for goodness’ sake.

  I wish Dad was here. I wish Mum had had the baby.

  I wish Verity was back. NO! I don’t wish she was back.

  Irene went into the house and came out again with a basket full of damp washing. She started pegging it out on the line. Kenny helped her, taking Gran’s nightie, sheets and duvet cover out of the basket and holding them out to his mum.

  Jake felt ashamed for Gran.

  ***

  Tom came round after school and they went out into the garden and messed about with the football.

  ‘Come on, mate, let’s go to the park and have a proper kick-about. You look as if you could use a break.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘It’s no good. I can’t leave Gran on her own.’

  ‘What! Not even for an hour?’

  ‘No!’ Jake’s voice rose. ‘I told you! That’s why I couldn’t come to school.’

  ‘OK, OK.’

  They were silent for a few minutes. Tom looked about him.

  ‘Hey, who’s been tidying up here. Where’s the jungle gone?’

  Jake smiled. ‘Mostly it’s been Kenny – and. . .’

  Why can’t I say it? Why can’t I tell him about Verity? He’s my best mate, for goodness’ sake.

  ‘Kenny! Daft Kenny from next door?’

  Jake nodded. ‘He’s OK, is Kenny,’ he said softly.

  Tom frowned. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘Yeah, well. . .’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got all cosy with Irene, too?’

  Jake shrugged. ‘She’s been helping me with Gran.’

  ‘Really?’

  Jake nodded. ‘Yeah, really.’ He turned to Tom. ‘I can’t handle Gran on my own now,’ he said. ‘You’ve no idea what it’s like.’

  ‘But Irene. . . !’

  Jake grinned. ‘Yeah. Who’d have thought it, eh?’

  There was a crash from the house. Jake jumped up and ran inside, closely followed by Tom. Gran was stumbling about in the kitchen, muttering angrily. All the cupboards were open and she had dragged food out and flung it on the floor.

  ‘Where is it? Where’s it gone? What have you done with it?’

  Jake went up to her and took her arm. ‘What is it, Gran? What have you lost?’

  She swung round to look at him, her eyes hostile.

  ‘I DON’T KNOW!’ she shouted. ‘DON’T KNOW, DON’T KNOW, DON’T KNOW!’ Suddenly she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and started to cry. Jake knelt down beside her and took her hand.

  ‘It’s OK, Gran, I’m here,’ he said. ‘We’ll manage.’

  Jake and Tom cleared up the mess while Gran wandered off into the lounge and sat on the sofa staring at the blank screen in front of her. Jake followed her in and switched on the TV for her.

  Back in the kitchen, he and Tom looked at each other.

  ‘Bloody hell, Jake. She’s not good, is she?’

  Jake gave a mirthless laugh. ‘That, mate, is the understatement of the year!’

  ‘It’s really scary,’ said Tom. ‘You ought to get the doctor to come and see her.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘No, I don’t want other people interfering. If the doctor sees what she’s like, he’ll call in the social services and then, can you imagine what they’d do? They’d probably put me in care!’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’

  ‘I’m not being daft. Look at it from their point of view. I’ve been left here by my parents to care for a mad old woman. They don’t know what she was like before she was ill. They don’t know how quickly she’s changed. And they don’t know that Mum mustn’t be worried about anything. That’s the last thing Dad said to me before he left. I promised him. I promised him I wouldn’t worry Mum.’

  He could hear his voice rising, getting out of control. He stretched out his arms on the table and put his head on top of them.

  Tom patted his back awkwardly. ‘I’m really sorry, mate.’

  Jake raised his head and sniffed. ‘I’m knackered. I just want it to end.’

  ‘Once your dad’s back, it’ll be OK.’

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’

  And meanwhile, what do I do if she keeps messing herself, if she breaks more stuff, if she sets fire to the house?

  After Tom had left, Irene came round with another casserole.

  ‘You need some proper food inside you, Jake,’ she said. ‘You look terrible.’

  Thanks, Irene. That makes me feel a whole lot better.

  ‘Thanks. That’s great.’

  ‘Shall I get your gran to bed later?’ she asked.

  Jake felt the relief flood through him. Ever since this morning’s episode in the bathroom he’d been wondering how he would get her to bed later.

  ‘Thanks. That would be good. But what about Kenny?’

  ‘I’ll make sure he’s watching one of his favourite DVDs. And if you could go and watch it with him, just keep an eye on him. . . ?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’

  I wish I didn’t need her.

  After Irene left, Jake warmed up the casserole in the oven and tried to get Gran to eat. She picked at it absently with her fork and some made it into her mouth, but after a while she pushed the plate away. Jake gulped his food down. He was ravenous and he felt better after he’d eaten. He hated to admit it, but Irene was right. He did need some proper food inside him.

  Gran wandered back into the lounge and sat down, once more, in front of the TV. She seemed quite content there on her own, so Jake sneaked upstairs to check out her room. He wasn’t sure if Gran had been in her room since the morning and she might have had a hurling frenzy; he didn’t want Irene to find a tip there when she took Gran up to bed.

  But if Gran had been in her room, she hadn’t done any damage. It was quite tidy. Irene had changed the bed and opened the window. Jake noticed that some of Gran’s things were in different places. Irene had probably been picking them up from the floor.

  He sat down on the edge of Gran’s bed.

  I must think about tomorrow. I’ll take the bus to the hospital to see Mum and then I’ll get food from the supermarket near the hospital.

  Food! I’ll need money. Or Gran’s card, anyway. I can’t ask Mum for money. She’ll get suspicious. I know what she’d say. ‘Surely Gran’s got enough money? You know we put money in her account for food and household stuff.’

  No, I’ll have to find her purse and take some money – or better still, take her card. But what if I can’t find it? She won’t have a clue where it is.

  Wearily, Jake got up off the bed and started to look round for Gran’s handbag. He saw it straight away, hanging on the back of t
he door, but when he looked inside there was no purse – and no cards either.

  He started hunting. He rummaged through every drawer and every pocket in the clothes cupboard. He found some loose change, some pebbles, a broken pair of specs, masses of screwed-up tissues, but no purse. What had she done with it? She hadn’t left it anywhere daft, had she? But she hadn’t been out of the house for days. It could only be in the house or in the garden.

  He sat down on the bed again, his head in his hands. He’d just have to ask her. But he knew she wouldn’t remember.

  He sighed, and looked down at his feet.

  Under the bed! That was the only place he hadn’t looked. Quickly, he got down on all fours and peered beneath the bed.

  Gran!

  He started laughing. How had she managed to hide all this stuff here? She must have poked it into the middle, so that no one could see it. He could imagine her lying on the floor with her umbrella, shoving all her precious things in a heap, far under the bed. Even sharp-eyed Irene hadn’t discovered her hiding-place when she was changing the sheets.

  Still giggling to himself, Jake wriggled under the bed and started to retrieve Gran’s heap of treasure.

  First, her purse. Then some jewellery, her picture of Grandad and some other precious bits and pieces. Jake brought them all out from under the bed. He put the jewellery and other things in the drawer in the dressing-table and the picture of Grandad on the bedside table.

  Hope she doesn’t think Irene’s been snooping. I’ll have to tell her it was me, if she gets cross.

  When he’d finished, he opened the purse. Not much cash, but all her cards were here. Hurrah!

  He took out her debit card – thank God he knew the pin number – and put it carefully in the pocket of his jeans.

  He was just about to close the purse when he saw a photo at the back. Idly, he pulled it out, wondering if it was another one of Grandad – or Mum – or him, even. Or possibly that dog Bramble she was always going on about. As he eased it out, he could see that it was an old black and white photo she must have had for a long time. The image was creased and the corners grubby with constant handling. He held it out and stared at it.

  He frowned, and suddenly he started to tremble. There was no doubt about the identity of the girl in the photo with that long dark hair. She was crouching down beside a dog, smiling up at the photographer.