What Milo Saw

by Virginia MacGregor

  Milo noticed that Tripi was blushing and staring at his big feet.

  ‘I try my best to make them nice food, but what can I do? The only fresh thing in this kitchen are the potatoes.’ His gaze flicked over the big hessian bags of white potatoes. Even they had the ECONOMY logo stamped onto them.

  Milo took one of Tripi’s big hands and squeezed it tight. ‘Don’t worry, Tripi. At home Mum only makes microwave meals, which isn’t much better than eating out of tins. And anyway, once we’ve got rid of Nurse Thornhill, we’ll get you a proper job in a nice restaurant and one day, when you’re a famous chef and you have your own kitchen, you can order in all the fresh food you want and famous people will come and eat the yummy things from your menu.’

  Tripi looked up from his feet and gave Milo a sad smile. ‘You speak like my sister, Ayishah.’

  ‘Well then, Ayishah must be right. Now, let’s gather everyone for the meeting.’

  They divided up the old people between them. Tripi went to get Mrs Turner, Mrs Wong and Mrs Swift and Milo collected the others.

  ‘Hello, Milo!’ Nurse Heidi waved from the end of the corridor.

  Milo stopped still, his arm clamped under Mrs Moseley’s. He turned round slowly.

  Nurse Heidi came up to Milo. ‘Your gran’s on good form today, she’ll be pleased to see you.’

  ‘I’ll see her later,’ said Milo.

  ‘Where are you taking Mrs Moseley?’

  Milo had debated with Clouds about whether or not to involve Nurse Heidi but they decided it was too risky. She was being trained to be a nurse by Nurse Thornhill so maybe she was more on her side that she let on. They couldn’t risk her telling Nurse Thornhill about the plan and spoiling everything.

  ‘I’m taking Mrs Moseley to the lounge,’ said Milo. ‘She’s going to help me with a school project on the Caribbean.’

  Mrs Moseley held up her tape player. ‘Yes, the music of Jamaica.’

  ‘Don’t forget to say hi to your gran.’ Nurse Heidi smiled and walked on.

  Milo and Mrs Moseley waited until she’d disappeared round a bend in the corridor and then took off towards the kitchens.

  One by one Milo and Tripi sat the old ladies on the plastic crates in the storeroom.

  ‘It’s like a bunker!’ exclaimed Mrs Swift, looking around at concrete walls and the concrete floor and the tiny dusty window right at the top.

  Milo had learnt about bunkers at school, they were the places people went during the war to keep out of the way of the bombs.

  He got out the list he’d made with Clouds.

  ‘So, Mrs Turner, when the inspectors come and shake your hand, you’re going to show them your pockets.’

  Mrs Turner stood up as if she was in class and held open one of her pockets. ‘I’ve got it all ready now.’

  As Milo looked down into the grey mushy peas and bits of potato, his tummy churned. ‘Brilliant, thank you, Mrs Turner. Just make sure you wear that same dress tomorrow.’ He hoped that Nurse Thornhill wouldn’t make her change it.

  ‘Mrs Wong, you’re going to talk about the menu, how there’s never any rice, even though it’s your favourite food.’

  Mrs Wong nodded.

  Milo thought that maybe the inspectors wouldn’t mind much about the rice so he’d planned another job for her too. ‘And make sure Mrs Foxton comes out of her room and talks about her conservatory and how Nurse Thornhill never listens to her.’ Milo reckoned that if you were a nurse, you were meant to listen to old people, even if they didn’t make sense. The inspectors should know that Nurse Thornhill never had time for the old ladies.

  ‘Savages!’ Mrs Foxton exclaimed. ‘Breaking my windows. Stealing things.’ She shook her fist.

  Mrs Swift raised her hand. She reminded Milo a bit of Nadja at school: always wanting to get things right. ‘And I’ll tell the inspectors how Nurse Thornhill stole my make-up bag while I was doing Mrs Zimmer’s eyeshadow. She yanked it right out of my hand.’ Mrs Swift rubbed her fingers along her wrist. ‘And she still hasn’t given it back.’

  As well as listening to the old people, it was Nurse Thornhill’s job to help them be happy and doing other people’s make-up was what made Mrs Swift happy. Plus, she shouldn’t be allowed to confiscate personal belongings from her patients, not when they hadn’t done anything wrong. Milo had briefed Tripi to show the inspectors the KEEP OUT drawer. He didn’t want to bring it up in front of the old ladies in case it upset them.

  ‘And I’ll tell them how she stole my iPad,’ chipped in Mrs Sharp. ‘She said she was sick of hearing the Angry Birds theme tune, even though I turn the sound really low not to upset her.’ That was mean too, because the iPad was a present from Mrs Sharp’s godson and playing Angry Birds made Mrs Sharp happy like it made Mrs Swift happy to do people’s make-up.

  Mrs Zimmer sat on her crate, swaying in and out of sleep. She’d be too sleepy to talk to the inspectors, but Tripi would explain how Nurse Thornhill didn’t always wake Mrs Zimmer up for meals and that Mrs Zimmer got really cold sitting in the lounge all day without the heating on. Milo also suspected that Nurse Thornhill gave Mrs Zimmer too many of those green and white dozy pills.

  Milo scanned down his list. On their own, these things weren’t that bad, but once Mrs Moseley came out with the wet patch on the back of her dress and the bruises on her arms, they’d have to see that something was wrong.

  ‘Mrs Moseley, you’re ready too?’ asked Milo.

  Mrs Moseley nodded. Her cheeks shone.

  ‘You’ll tell them about the cold baths?’

  A picture of Mrs Moseley standing in the middle of her room, shivering, flickered in front of Milo’s pinhole. He stood up straight and took a breath.

  ‘We have to show the inspectors what it’s really like here, and how Nurse Thornhill treats you all. But it’s really important that you don’t let on, not before they get here.’

  The old ladies looked at Milo and nodded.

  ‘Where’s Lou?’ Tripi asked. ‘And Petros?’

  Milo stared up at the bare, dusty light bulb swinging from the ceiling. He’d hoped that no one would notice they weren’t here.

  Tripi and the old ladies looked at Milo and waited for an answer.

  ‘They’re busy,’ Milo said. And it was true. Gran was busy smelling that stupid rose of his and Petros was busy sucking up to Gran. They were so wrapped up in each other that they probably didn’t get half of what was going on at Forget Me Not.

  Mrs Moseley broke the silence. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll have a party!’ She turned up the volume on her tape recorder. Bob Marley’s voice boomed out. It was so sunny and bouncy that even sleepy Mrs Zimmer seemed to sway to a different rhythm.

  Let’s get together and feel all right.

  Milo felt his heart lifting. Everyone was on board: his plan was going to be a success.

  Then Tripi stumbled to the stockroom door.

  ‘What is it?’ Milo asked.

  Tripi put his index finger to his mouth. Milo went over and turned down the volume on Mrs Moseley’s tape recorder.

  Footsteps; quick, squeaky footsteps.

  ‘It’s Nurse Thornhill!’ exclaimed Mrs Wong. ‘She’s coming!’

  Mrs Swift gasped.

  The door flew open.

  Nurse Heidi’s small figure stood in the doorframe.

  Milo didn’t know whether or not to be relieved. At least it wasn’t Nurse Thornhill but if Nurse Heidi told on them, it might just as well have been.

  ‘I was wondering where you’d all got to,’ said Nurse Heidi. She closed the door behind her and came to sit next to Mrs Swift on one of the crates of tinned tomatoes. ‘So, are you going to fill me in on the plan?’

  For a moment, everyone was silent. Milo looked at Tripi to check his reaction. His mouth was half smiling and half worried, as though he wanted to believe that Nurse Heidi being here was a good thing but didn’t quite trust himself.

  ‘We’re going to catch the witch,’ said Mrs Moseley. ‘We’re going to show thos
e inspectors what that nasty white witch is really like.’

  Milo and Tripi and all the old ladies looked at Nurse Heidi, waiting for her to respond.

  Nurse Heidi brushed down the skirt of her uniform, looked up at them and said: ‘So, what’s my job then?’

  44

  MILO

  Milo snapped the chocolate out of the plastic casing. A picture of Mary and Joseph knocking on the door of the Inn, Mary’s belly as big as The Tart’s before she left for Abu Dhabi with Dad.

  Tuesday eighteenth of December: eight days until Christmas.

  He packed his bag for school and skipped downstairs, whistling Great-Gramps’s bagpipe song.

  ‘You seem happy,’ said Mum, scooping yellow powder out of her SlimFast tin.

  Milo nodded and sat down at the kitchen counter. He watched Mum pouring skimmed milk into a cocktail shaker.

  ‘Can I have one of those?’

  ‘It’s not for kids.’

  ‘It looks like a milkshake.’

  ‘Well, it is, sort of. It’s milkshake medicine.’

  During one of their rows, Dad had told Mum that his Tart was a size zero. She has this amazing metabolism, he said, like it was a talent. Mum had run out of the room, crying. Milo thought that size zero sounded pretty pointless, like saying size nothing, which didn’t make sense because no one was size nothing otherwise they’d be invisible. Anyway, since then, Mum had been on a diet, taking pills that made her jittery and drinking shakes, but she kept eating Hobnobs too, so the diet wasn’t working. Mum couldn’t fit into any of her old clothes and when she sat down on the kitchen stool, her thighs bulged over the edge.

  ‘Here, you can have some Fluff on your toast.’ Mum thumped down the jar on the counter.

  Before, when Dad was still at home and Gran was living upstairs and Milo’s eyes hadn’t gone wrong, Fluff had only been allowed for special occasions because it was bad for his teeth.

  ‘So you’re going to wear your special glasses today? To help you read the board?’

  They’d been through all this yesterday.

  ‘And you’re going to tell Mrs Harris if you’re struggling?’

  Milo took a gulp of orange juice. ‘Yes.’

  Mum’s eyes went narrow. ‘You okay, Milo?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You just seem… I don’t know.’ Mum shook the cocktail shaker and then poured the yellow frothy liquid into a glass.

  A bit of Milo wanted to tell Mum about the plan and how today was the big day, how they were going to catch Nurse Thornhill. But he was worried she might go in and ruin everything. Anyway, she was still acting weird about him being friends with Tripi.

  Mum took a sip of her shake, pulled her mouth back over her teeth like she’d sucked on a bit of lemon.

  ‘I’d better go,’ said Milo, jumping down off the stool.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Mum came over and held Milo’s chin up and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Now, don’t let them put you in their special unit. I’ve called the Head and he’s made me a promise, but that teacher of yours…’

  She’d said that yesterday too.

  Milo nodded. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, Mum.’

  Mum gave Milo a kiss on the forehead and said ‘I love you’ against his skin.

  ‘Love you too, Mum.’

  When the time was right, he was going to tell her about being an undercover reporter at Forget Me Not, but first, he wanted to put everything in place. When he stood back he saw that her eyes were all shiny. Maybe living with Mum wasn’t so bad after all.

  All day Milo tried to hold down the excited feeling that had been growing in his tummy ever since Tripi mentioned the inspectors. They’d made the perfect plan. Everyone knew what they had to do. By the end of today, Nurse Thornhill would be out of Forget Me Not.

  At school, Milo wore his glasses, like Mum said, and let Mrs Harris know when he was having trouble with a sum or with a word or when his eyes were so tired that he couldn’t take in any more writing. But every spare minute he got, Milo’s brain whizzed around with pictures of what must be happening at Forget Me Not.

  Of Nurse Thornhill being handcuffed and dragged out through the front door and of everyone cheering and saying Well done Tripi, which Milo wouldn’t mind, even though the plan had been his and Clouds’s idea. And he imagined the police showing up with their flashing blue lights and how they’d be so impressed with what Tripi had done that they’d help him find Ayishah.

  It might take a day or two to get in touch with the old people’s families but soon they’d all be picked up, like Mrs Moseley who’d go and live with Mrs Hairy in the Hairy Mansion and the horrible white nursing home would be shut down and Gran would come home.

  Milo felt a bit bad that Clouds wouldn’t have a room any more, especially as he’d been teaching Milo all about what it takes to be an undercover reporter, but he could stay in Milo’s room until he found a new home. And anyway, he was always out at night so he must have another place to go to.

  At three thirty, as soon as the school bell sounded, Milo speed-walked straight to Forget Me Not.

  Nurse Thornhill stood at the top of the steps leading to the front door of Forget Me not, her white teeth gleaming.

  Milo crouched by the railing, watching and listening.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure,’ said a man with a grey suit and fuzzy grey hair.

  ‘If only everyone took so much pride in their work, this country would be a better place,’ added a tubby bald guy with a clipboard.

  ‘You’re in with a strong chance,’ said a third man with a faded black suit and gelled hair.

  ‘More than a chance,’ fuzzy grey-haired guy said.

  ‘We probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re the horse everyone’s backing,’ said the bald guy. ‘No one’s as good as you, Ruth.’ And then he winked at her.

  Nurse Thornhill held her fingers to her chest and said, ‘Oh, goodness… really… I am flattered.’ She was back in her starched white uniform and she wore lipstick and eye shadow and blusher and when she touched the black-suit guy’s arm, her cheeks went pink.

  ‘We’re very grateful,’ black-suit guy said.

  ‘No, I’m the one who has to thank you. It was so good of you to come and visit our little family.’ Nurse Thornhill’s voice was fake-soft, like Mr Whippy ice cream that melted on your tongue before you had the chance to taste it.

  ‘It would be great if you got a little film ready to show the home at its best. Patient interviews, that kind of thing,’ said the gelled-hair guy. ‘If you win, the film will be broadcast at the ceremony.’

  ‘I’ll try to find someone to do that.’

  ‘We’ll see you on Friday night, then,’ said the bald guy. ‘Make sure you have your acceptance speech polished.’ Another wink.

  Milo sat back, his head ached. Everything was happening backwards: they were meant to be handcuffing Nurse Thornhill and taking her away. And where was the police car? And the cheering? And where was Tripi?

  Nurse Thornhill went back inside and Milo watched the three men drive away.

  As he walked into the front hall of Forget Me Not, Milo smelt roses and air freshener. Heat blasted so hard out of the radiators that he had to take off his duffel coat. He went straight to the kitchens.

  Milo dumped his school bag on the kitchen floor and heard a crunch. His glasses. He’d been so quick to leave the last lesson, that he hadn’t put them back in their case.

  ‘What happened, Tripi?’

  Tripi wiped his hands on his white apron and shook his head. ‘I am sorry, Milo.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re sorry?’

  ‘The plan did not work.’

  ‘How… I mean… why…?’

  ‘Early this morning, when my shift started, Nurse Thornhill came in and talked to the patients, all of them together, in the lounge. She promised them nice things if she won the prize. She said she would use the prize money to make their rooms beautiful and to get them nice food.
And she said they would be proud to be at the best nursing home in Greater London.’

  ‘And they believed her?’

  ‘I think they were scared, Milo. If the plan didn’t work, they were the ones who would be in trouble.’