by Judi Curtin
For Mum and Dad
While I was struggling to find an idea for this book, Sheenagh Murphy told me a story about her granny that brought a tear to my eye. That night Gigi’s story came to me – huge thanks to Sheenagh for the inspiration.
Thanks to my writing friends, Sarah Webb and Oisín McGann, who are a constant source of advice, encouragement and book titles.
Thanks to everyone at The O’Brien Press for their ongoing support. Special thanks to super-editor, Helen Carr.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
About the Author
Copyright
Other Books by Judi Curtin
Chapter One
‘Homework is totally cruel and unfair. There should be a law against it.’
We were walking home from school, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the history essay I had to write, and the two pages of totally impossible maths questions I had to solve.
Ella laughed. ‘Why don’t you leave your homework until later?’
‘I might as well just get it over with – and anyway, what else have I got to do?’
‘You could come with me.’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked, hoping she was going to say she was on her way to a super-cool party or something.
‘I’m going to visit my granny.’
Grannies are supposed to be grey and boring, but Ella’s is really cool. Her name is Grace, but everyone calls her Gigi. She’s got hair down to her shoulders, and she wears the weirdest clothes ever. Sometimes, when she goes out for a walk, people point at her and laugh, but Gigi doesn’t care. She just laughs back, and then the other people end up looking kind of stupid. Gigi lives in a totally cool cottage near the park, and she’s got the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’d love to come with you. We can play with Pedro for a bit, and maybe we’ll get lucky and Gigi will have made some of her totally delicious macaroons. Those passion fruit ones are the yummiest things I’ve ever, ever eaten.’
I was so busy imagining the soft, sweet macaroons dissolving on my tongue that it took me a minute to notice that Ella wasn’t answering.
‘Ell?’
I stopped walking when I saw that she had tears in her eyes.
‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Everything,’ she said, wiping her eyes with her coat sleeve. ‘I didn’t tell you before – I was too upset to talk about it.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Gigi fell a few months ago, and since then she hasn’t really been able to manage on her own. Last week she had go to live in a nursing home.’
‘Maybe that’s not so bad,’ I said. ‘My dad’s aunt lived in a nursing home for years and she totally loved it. She even had a boyfriend for a bit – a weird old guy who wore odd socks and smelled like the inside of an ancient wardrobe. Dad’s aunt said the nursing home was the best place she’d ever lived in her whole life.’
‘That’s sweet,’ said Ella. ‘And we thought Gigi was going to be happy in her nursing home too. She visited there with Mum and Dad a few weeks ago, and it seemed lovely. The head nurse was really gentle and kind, but she retired the day before Gigi moved in. And the new nurse …’
‘What about her?’
‘She used to be a nurse in the army – and it shows. Her name is Nurse Fitch, but Gigi calls her Nurse Witch. She shouts a lot and bosses everyone around. She’s brought in all these stupid rules and regulations – like she’s running a jail and the old people are her prisoners.’
‘Poor Gigi! That sounds awful. If things are that bad though, maybe she could move to another nursing home?’
‘That wouldn’t work. We want her to be nearby so we can visit a lot, and that means there isn’t really a choice. Anyway, even if Gigi moved somewhere else, I still don’t think she’d be properly happy. She misses everything about her old life. She misses being independent. She misses being able to bake, and mess around in her garden. She misses her old friends and neighbours.’
‘But maybe she’ll make new friends in the nursing home?’
‘That’s what Mum suggested, but Gigi said all the other nursing home residents are boring old farts.’
I giggled, glad to hear that Gigi hadn’t lost all of her spark.
Ella didn’t laugh with me though. ‘I haven’t told you the very worst thing. Most of all Gigi misses …’
She stopped talking, and I could see that she was trying to hold back her tears again. Suddenly I understood.
‘Pedro,’ I whispered. ‘What happened to Pedro?’
Ella blinked quickly, making her eyes look all big and watery.
‘I miss him so much,’ she said. ‘We wanted him to come and live with us, but Dad’s allergic to dogs, so that was never going to work.’
‘So where is he?’
‘He had to go to live with my cousins in Tipperary.’
‘But that’s miles away.’
‘I know. We took him there last week, and watching Gigi saying goodbye to him was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.’
Now tears came to my eyes too.
‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘Granny-cheering-up is one of my many unrecognised talents.’
‘I guess,’ said Ella. ‘Only thing is, Gigi will act happy when we’re there, but I know that as soon as we leave, she’ll be sad again. Unless—’
She stopped talking and grabbed my arm.
‘Unless what?’ I asked.
‘You can help,’ she said.
‘How?’
‘You can fix everything.’
‘I’m not sure that—’
She interrupted me. ‘Why didn’t I think of this before? You’re the expert helper-outer.’
‘But—’
She ignored me. ‘You fix things when no one else can.’
‘I do?’
‘Of course you do! When Ruby’s mum couldn’t get upstairs, you arranged for your dad to put in a stair-lift for her. When Kate’s favourite tree was being cut down, you started the campaign that saved it. After you found Daisy’s ancient old diary, you even managed to fix her problems that had happened nearly a hundred years ago – that was total genius. We could stand here for a week, talking about all the amazing things you’ve done.’
I could feel my face going red.
‘All those things just sort of happened,’ I said. ‘And I didn’t do any of them on my own. Heaps of people helped me.’
‘It was mostly you, though. Face it, Eva, if anyone can help Gigi, it’s you.’
‘It’s nice of you to say that,’ I said. ‘But I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know a single thing about nursing homes.’
‘So why are we hanging around here?’ asked Ella. ‘Let’s go and get started.’
Chapter Two
The nursing home was just around the corner from Ella’s house, so it only took us a few minutes to get there.
We walked up the gravel drive and st
opped at a big glass door. Ella keyed in a code, the door clicked open, and I followed her inside.
We were standing in a reception area. It was a bit like a hotel – except hotels don’t usually have big lists of rules and regulations on every wall, and they don’t smell like old, boiled cabbage.
A very cross-looking woman was sitting at a desk. She narrowed her eyes and stared at us like we were criminals who were planning to steal everything she’d ever owned.
‘I’m guessing that’s Nurse Witch?’ I whispered, and Ella nodded.
‘My friend and I are just going up to see Gigi,’ said Ella. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Stand up tall when you’re talking,’ said Nurse Witch. ‘You’re slouched down like a sack of potatoes.’
I wanted to giggle, but I didn’t dare. There was something seriously scary about this woman. Next to me, I could sense Ella standing up straighter.
‘Two children together,’ said Nurse Witch. ‘I don’t like that. I don’t like that one little bit. Do try and behave yourselves. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been running around and climbing on things.’
‘We’ll be good, we promise,’ said Ella, and then she grabbed my arm and pulled me along the corridor.
‘OMG,’ I said. ‘Does that woman think we’re six?’
Ella rolled her eyes. ‘I guess, but what’s even worse is that she treats the old people like that too. She shouts orders at them all the time, like she thinks she’s still in the army.’
‘That’s really mean.’
‘I know – and most of her new rules are really mean too.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, she’s brought in a new bedtime rule, like she’s Supernanny and the old people are badly-brought-up kids. She locks up the residents’ lounges at eight o’clock, and everyone has to stay in their rooms after that, whether they want to or not. Gigi doesn’t sleep that much, and she finds the nights very long and boring.’
We were passing a room that was crowded with old people, and I tried not to stare. The TV was on, but no one was looking at it.
Most people were just gazing into space. One woman waved madly, but when I waved back, she stuck her tongue out at me.
I followed Ella into the lift. ‘I guess, in one way, Gigi’s kind of lucky,’ she said. ‘Her room’s upstairs.’
‘Why’s that lucky?’ I asked. ‘Isn’t the smell of cabbage so bad up there?’
Ella giggled. ‘The upstairs people don’t get spied on quite so much. The sickest people, and the ones who might wander off, are all on the ground floor where Nurse Witch can keep a close eye on them. It’s a bit like a teacher making the troublesome kids sit at the front of the class.’
By now the lift doors had pinged open and we were walking down a long corridor. Our feet didn’t make a sound on the soft, mud-coloured carpet. Some of the doors were open, but I didn’t dare look inside any of them. I told myself I was being polite, but really I was just afraid of what I might see.
Halfway along the corridor, Ella pushed open a door and we went inside.
Gigi was sitting in an armchair. She was wearing a purple ruffled skirt, a huge black jumper and a pair of hiking boots. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t – Gigi was staring out the window and looking really sad.
‘Hey, Gigi,’ said Ella. ‘It’s me, and I’ve brought Eva to see you too.’
‘Ella, darling. It’s so nice to see you. And Eva – how sweet of you to come.’
As Gigi turned towards us, she gave one of the big smiles I remembered. A second later though, her smile had vanished completely, leaving me wondering if I had only imagined it.
After Gigi had given us both huge hugs, Ella and I sat on the bed, and Gigi asked us loads of questions about school and stuff.
‘What about you, Gigi?’ asked Ella in the end. ‘Have you made any friends here yet?’
Gigi made a face. ‘There’s no one interesting here. Like I told your mother, they’re all boring old fuddy-duddies.’
‘But you don’t know them yet,’ said Ella. ‘Maybe you need to give them a chance? Have you thought that maybe they think you’re a boring old fuddy-duddy too?’
I looked at Gigi’s long hair and weird clothes and decided that only a blind person could mistake her for a boring fuddy-duddy.
‘So what do you do all day?’ I asked, trying to change the subject.
‘I sit here and wait for them to bring me cups of tea,’ said Gigi.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, remembering how the kettle in Gigi’s house was always bubbling on the cooker. She spent half her time making endless cups of tea for her friends and neighbours.
Now Gigi looked like she was going to cry. ‘Before I moved in to this awful place, there used to be a tea and coffee station in the lounge, and residents could help themselves to hot drinks and biscuits whenever they wanted. Nurse Witch got rid of it though. She said the biscuits were bad for us, and the hot water represented a health and safety risk. I’m eighty-nine years old, for pity’s sake. Getting out of bed every morning represents a health and safety risk.’
‘So how do you get your tea now?’ I asked.
‘They bring me three measly cups a day,’ she said. ‘One at nine o’clock, one at eleven and one at five. I look forward to them for hours before, but in the end, I’m always disappointed. They bring the tea upstairs on a trolley, and by the time it gets here, it’s ice-cold, and strong enough to trot a mouse across. Bleurgh!’
She shook her head, and the loose skin on her face wobbled. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Ella was trying very hard. ‘So anyway, Gigi,’ she said. ‘What exciting things have happened around here since my last visit?’
Gigi took so long to answer, I thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. Then I looked at her face, and I could see that it was all crinkled up, like Ella had just asked her the hardest question in the world.
‘Oh,’ she said in the end. ‘I’ve thought of something. We had ice-cream for dessert yesterday – strawberry flavour – my favourite.’
Strawberry ice-cream is OK, but how could it be the most exciting thing in your life?
I remembered when Gigi was the funniest person I knew.
At Halloween, she used to dress up as a witch, to scare all the trick-or treaters.
When she made popcorn, she never put a lid on the pan. She said it was much more fun to watch Ella and me racing madly around the kitchen, picking it up off the floor.
Just last year, she borrowed Ella’s scooter, and scooted the whole way around the town, making rude gestures at anyone who pointed at her.
How could her life have changed so much, so quickly?
‘Hey,’ said Ella. ‘I nearly forgot, I’ve got something to show you, Gigi. Uncle Greg sent me a video of Pedro playing in the garden in Tipperary.’
She held her phone out and we watched as Pedro galloped around on the grass, and rolled in a pile of leaves, barking like a crazy thing. When the video ended, no one said anything for ages.
Gigi spoke first. Her voice was all soft and whispery. ‘I miss Pedro so much,’ she said. ‘I miss the way he got excited whenever I walked into the room. I miss the warm weight of him on my lap when I’m relaxing in the evening. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not having that.’ Ella stroked her arm, and Gigi continued, ‘He looks happy,’ she said.
I wondered if that made things better or worse. Did she mind that Pedro didn’t seem to miss her?
‘I’m glad he’s happy,’ she said then. ‘I’m glad he’s not pining for me. Thank you for showing me that, Ella, sweetheart. You’re a kind girl.’
We only stayed for about half an hour, but it felt like a hundred years.
‘Poor Gigi,’ I said, as Ella used the code to let us out of the building. ‘She was always so lively and funny and now she’s so sad.’
‘She tries her best to be positive,’ said Ella, ‘but she’s not doing very well. Often when Mum and Dad and I visit, Gigi’s eyes are all red. I th
ink she cries a lot when we’re not there.’
‘That’s awful,’ I said.
‘I know, but what can we do? We can’t make time go backwards. We can’t make Gigi young and strong again. The doctors say she’ll never be able to go back to her own home.’
‘Can we do anything to fix this?’
‘Mum says we just have to be patient. She says all we can do is visit as often as we can, and hope that Gigi will settle in after a bit.’
‘That’s not good enough,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to help her. We’ve just got to.’
Ella smiled. ‘Thanks, Eva,’ she said. ‘I knew I could rely on you.’
Chapter Three
Maths was the last class next day. I’ve always hated maths – mostly because it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. It’s weird – the more I study it, the less I understand. It’s like just thinking about maths eats up half of my brain.
Mrs Hegarty went straight up to the whiteboard and switched it on.
‘Pay attention students,’ she said. ‘Today we’re going to work on some problems.’
‘Hard ones, I hope,’ said Andy, who thinks he’s the coolest kid in the class and likes to be best at everything.
He ran his fingers through his hair, making it all spiky, and one of the girls sitting near him looked like she was going to faint from excitement. Andy smirked and did it again.
‘The questions we did last week were pathetically easy,’ he said.
Mrs Hegarty ignored him. ‘The first problem is very interesting,’ she said.
‘That would be a first,’ I whispered.
Ella laughed, but stopped quickly when she saw that Mrs Hegarty was glaring at us. Our maths teacher is not known for her sense of humour.
I read the words on the screen:
Last month, Maria spent a fifth of her pocket money on books and ½ on phone credit, and she put the remaining 12 Euro into her bank account. Now answer the following questions:
For one second, while we waited for Mrs Hegarty to reveal the questions, I sat up and began to pay attention. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as boring as usual. But then she showed the questions and I sat back again.
