by Judi Curtin
‘So we should be safe for a while,’ I said. ‘And that’s lucky because we brought you something.’
I began to unpack my rucksack. Gigi said nothing as I pulled out the kettle we’d borrowed from Ella’s kitchen, three cups, tea-bags, a small jar of milk and a packet of chocolate biscuits.
‘A midnight feast,’ gasped Gigi. ‘How wonderful! I feel like a girl again, having a midnight feast with my friends.’
It was a long way from midnight, and Gigi hasn’t been a girl for nearly eighty years, but that didn’t matter. I knew what she meant.
Chapter Nine
The kettle took ages to boil, and by the time it was ready, poor Gigi was practically jumping up and down on her chair. It was very sad to see how excited she was getting about a cup of tea.
‘Hey, Eva,’ said Ella. ‘You make the tea. I’ve just thought of something, and I need to send a text.’
‘OK,’ I said, as I went to the corner and unplugged the kettle.
Ten minutes later, Ella and I were sitting on the bed, wrapped up in Gigi’s soft crocheted blanket. We were sipping our tea and chatting. Over in the armchair, Gigi was dunking her third biscuit into her tea, and looking like she was in heaven.
When our tea was finished, Ella picked up her phone.
‘OMG,’ she said. ‘It’s time.’
I had no idea what she was on about. ‘Is this something to do with the text you sent?’
‘Yes. I was texting my cousin, Lucy, in Tipperary, and I needed to give her some time to get sorted.’
‘OMG,’ I said, suddenly understanding. ‘You’re a genius.’
Gigi was looking puzzled, but when Ella passed over her phone, a huge smile spread over her face.
‘It’s called FaceTime,’ explained Ella. ‘And look, there’s Lucy.’
I went and stood behind Gigi’s chair, so I could see the screen. Lucy was sitting on her bed and waving. ‘Hi, Gigi. Hi, Ella. Hi, Eva,’ she said.
Gigi waved. ‘Hi, darling,’ she said very loudly, like her voice had to carry all the way to Tipperary. ‘How are you?’
‘Shhh,’ said Ella. ‘You don’t want Nurse Witch hearing you, do you?’
Gigi shook her head. ‘No way, Jose,’ she said.
‘Anyway,’ said Ella. ‘Lucy has a surprise for you. Show her, Lucy.’
Lucy moved her phone and there was a sudden silence as Gigi saw Pedro curled up in her arms.
‘Pedro,’ Gigi said in the end. ‘Pedro.’
As she said his name the second time, Pedro’s ears popped up, and he reached out for the phone with his paws.
‘My baby,’ said Gigi. ‘How are you my little baby? Are you missing your mummy?’
Pedro put his head to one side and stared at the phone.
‘Can he see me?’ asked Gigi.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Gigi, and then she made a clicking noise with her tongue.
Now Pedro started to whimper, and put his head up to the phone. A second later, the picture went all pink and blurry.
‘OMG,’ squealed Ella. ‘He’s licking Lucy’s phone. That’s so gross.’
But Gigi didn’t think it was gross at all. She stroked the screen of Ella’s phone, and whispered to her pet for ages and ages.
Finally, Pedro settled back into Lucy’s arms, and looked as happy as a dog can. Then he gave a small stretch, and closed his eyes.
Gigi sat back in her chair. ‘Good-night, baby,’ she said. ‘It was so nice to talk to you.’
After we’d all said our goodbyes, Ella clicked off her phone and we went back to sit on Gigi’s bed.
Gigi was wiping her eyes. ‘Don’t worry girls,’ she said. ‘These are happy tears. I’m a lucky lady to have such sweet people in my life.’
After a bit, Ella helped her granny back into bed, and snuggled next to her while I packed up the tea things. When I was finished, I sat and watched them for a bit. Gigi had her arms around Ella. They both had their eyes closed, and Gigi had a small smile on her old, wrinkled lips. They looked very peaceful.
At twenty to twelve I touched Ella’s shoulder. ‘We’ve got to go,’ I whispered. ‘Your mum and dad will be home soon.’
As Ella climbed out of bed, Gigi opened her eyes and smiled. ‘You’ll never know how special tonight was to me,’ she said.
‘We enjoyed it too,’ said Ella, as she gently tucked the blankets around her. ‘And we can’t say exactly when, but we’ll definitely do this again.’
‘Promise?’ said Gigi.
‘We promise,’ said Ella and I together, and I realised that I was already looking forward to it.
We had no trouble sneaking past Nurse Witch on the way out. I guess my mum is right – practice makes perfect.
Back at Ella’s place, we let ourselves in the back door. Once again, Alyson didn’t look up as we tip-toed past the living room, and went upstairs to Ella’s room. We changed into our pyjamas, and lay on Ella’s bed.
Ten minutes later, we heard Ella’s parents coming in. Ella and I ran out to the landing and watched as they went in to the living room.
‘Everything OK, Alyson?’ asked Ella’s dad. ‘Did the little monsters behave themselves?’
Next to me, Ella rolled her eyes.
‘And did you find the treats I left for you, Alyson?’ asked Ella’s mum.
‘Yeah,’ said Alyson. ‘They were great, thanks. Only thing is, I wanted to make myself some coffee, but I couldn’t find the kettle. It wasn’t in its usual place.’
Suddenly I remembered that the kettle and the cups and stuff were still in my rucksack, just inside the back door.
‘OMG,’ whispered Ella. ‘How are we going to explain this? We’re dead.’
‘No, we’re not,’ I said. ‘Just give me a minute.’
I legged it downstairs, got the kettle and flung it onto the kitchen counter, just as Ella’s parents and Alyson walked in to the kitchen.
‘Oh, hello, Eva,’ said Ella’s dad. ‘We were just looking for …’
‘… the kettle,’ said Alyson. ‘But it’s there. Who put it there? Did you have it, Eva?’
‘I just came down for a glass of water,’ I said, smiling sweetly, and hoping no one was going to notice that the flex of the kettle was hanging down over the kitchen cupboard and swaying slowly back and forth.
‘But if you couldn’t find the kettle, Alyson,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you come up and ask Ella and me? We’d have been happy to help you find it, wouldn’t we, Ella?’
‘Sure,’ said Ella, who had just walked in. ‘Night, Mum. Night, Dad. Eva and I are going to bed. Hanging around in my room doing nothing makes me soooo tired.’
Chapter Ten
On Monday, Ella and I sat with Aretta for maths and history classes. She laughed for ages when we told her about our late-night visit to Gigi.
‘That’s so cute,’ she said. ‘I wish I could have seen Gigi talking to Pedro on Skype. I know how special that can be.’
‘So what did you do for the weekend?’ I asked.
‘Oh,’ you know,’ she said vaguely. ‘Just stuff.’
Then she changed the subject and told us a funny story from when she was a little girl in Nigeria.
As soon as the last class was over, I jumped up from my seat.
‘Quick, Ella,’ I said. ‘I’m not giving Aretta the chance to escape again.’
Ella jumped up too, and we followed Aretta out of the classroom, walking right behind her like not-very-good secret agents.
In the corridor, Aretta stopped and looked through the glass door of the gym. Ella and I stopped suddenly too, almost bumping in to her.
‘What’s going on in there?’ asked Aretta when she saw us.
‘After-school basketball club,’ I said. ‘It’s on every Monday at this time.’
Aretta gazed in through the glass for ages. I wondered what could be so interesting about a few kids in shiny outfits running up and down, bouncing a big heavy ball in front of them – and then, at last, I thought I
understood.
‘Aretta?’ I said.
She turned and looked surprised to see me, like she’d forgotten that Ella and I were there. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Sorry. I got a bit carried away.’
‘When you said that badminton is your second favourite sport …’ I began.
Aretta smiled. ‘Yeah, basketball’s my favourite. I’ve always loved it. I was on my school’s team in Kilkenny. We won the county championship three years running.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘I know everyone goes on about how taking part is the most important thing, but winning’s kind of cool too. You must have hated leaving such a great team.’
Aretta’s smile faded. ‘Yeah. It was awful – but … well … we didn’t have a choice. We had to leave Kilkenny.’
I wanted to ask why, but couldn’t find the words.
‘You should join the basketball club here,’ said Ella. ‘They’re always looking for new members.’
‘And if you’re as good at basketball as you are at badminton, they’ll love you,’ I added.
Aretta shook her head, and I had to duck to stop her from taking my eye out with one of her hair braids.
‘No. I … can’t,’ she said.
‘You don’t even have to pay,’ I said quickly.
‘It’s an official after-school activity, and the coach is a volunteer,’ explained Ella.
This time Aretta hesitated for a second, ‘No. It’s not the money. It’s just that … I’ve got to… … well … I’m busy this afternoon.’
She looked at the clock at the end of the corridor.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Look how late it is. I’ve got to go. Bye, Eva. Bye, Ella. See you tomorrow.’
And before either of us could say anything, our new friend had pushed her way out the door and disappeared.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ asked Ella.
‘Depends what you’re thinking,’ I said. ‘What I’m thinking is that it’s weird how Aretta’s always so busy.’
‘Exactly. Even the president of America isn’t as busy as Aretta claims to be.’
‘So why does she keep running off like that?’
‘Maybe she just doesn’t want to be friends with us?’
‘Even though we’re the coolest, funnest girls in the whole school?’ Ella giggled, and I continued, ‘Seriously though. I wouldn’t mind if Aretta was always unfriendly, but she’s not. Most of the time, it’s like she really wants to hang out with us, but when home-time comes, she changes completely.’
‘Maybe an evil witch put a spell on her. Maybe she turns into a stick insect or a pot-bellied pig if she’s not home by four thirty.’
I laughed. ‘Whatever it is, it’s a total mystery – and mysteries need to be solved.’
‘Should we ask Aretta to hang out with us for a bit?’ asked Ella, as we packed up our books at the end of school the next day.
I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I know she’s just going to say she’s really busy or some—’
Ella poked me in the ribs and I turned around to see Aretta walking towards us.
‘Bye,’ she said. ‘Sorry I can’t hang around, but I’ve got a ballet class. See you tomorrow.’
And then she rushed off.
‘Do you believe her?’ asked Ella.
‘Not for a second. For one thing, her ballet class is supposed to be on Fridays. And for another, I called my friend Victoria last night. She goes to the only ballet school in town, and she’s never heard of Aretta.’
‘So she’s definitely been lying to us.’
‘Yes, now hurry up. I want to find out what’s going on.’
Ella looked worried. ‘What do you plan to do? It’s not like we can corner her in the schoolyard and force her to tell us the truth. And anyway, what Aretta does after school is her business. Maybe we should just leave her alone.’
‘If it turns out that she doesn’t want to hang out with us after school, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘But …’
‘But what?’
‘But maybe there’s something bigger going on. Something we should know about. Something we could help her with.’
‘And how are we going to find that out?’
‘Easy. We’re going to follow her and see where she’s going.’
‘I’m not really sure––’
‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘And if we don’t hurry, we won’t be able to find her. Now are you coming or not?’
With a big sigh, Ella shoved her last book in to her bag. ‘I’m coming, I guess,’ she said.
We hurried outside. There were crowds of people in the schoolyard, but it was easy to see our tall friend with her distinctive hairstyle.
We followed her out through the gates, and along the road. I felt a bit like a detective on a TV show, ready to duck into a doorway if Aretta happened to look back. After a bit though, I stopped worrying. Aretta was walking quickly, and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her surroundings.
‘I’m really not sure about this,’ said Ella, as we waited to cross the main street. ‘It’s kind of invading her privacy, isn’t it?’
‘Kind of,’ I admitted. ‘But it’s all in a good cause, so I think that makes it OK.’
Aretta kept walking for ages, and Ella and I followed at what we hoped was a safe distance. Soon we were far out of town, and walking along a narrow, twisty road I’d never been on before.
‘This is the middle of nowhere,’ said Ella. ‘No wonder the poor girl doesn’t want to hang out with us after school. She has to save her energy for the walk home.’
Aretta had turned a corner, and a few seconds later we followed her. In front of us was a huge, very neglected-looking, building. You could see that it had once been blue, but now the paint was dull and peeling away. A crooked sign blew in the wind, and I could just about make out the faded letters – Grand Hotel.
‘That doesn’t look very grand to me,’ muttered Ella. ‘It’s a wreck. No wonder Aretta didn’t want us to come here.’
We watched as Aretta walked up the weedy driveway and waved at the security guard, who was standing at the bottom of the front steps.
‘This is all a bit weird,’ I said. ‘It’s …’
But just then, as Aretta was half way up the steps, she stopped and turned around.
I looked frantically at Ella, but there was nowhere to hide.
‘Act casual,’ I said. ‘Make it seem like we’re just out for a nice walk.’
But it was too late. Aretta was staring at us, and she didn’t look happy. She looked like she hated us. She stamped up the last few steps and went in the front door, slamming it hard behind her.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Ella. ‘What is this place? It’s like a prison or something. Why is there a security guard? Why is Aretta living here?’
And then I remembered.
‘I’ve heard Dad talking about this place,’ I said. ‘He did some repairs on the roof last year.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘I can’t remember all the details, but one thing I do remember is that he said he wouldn’t like to live here.’
‘Poor Aretta.’
‘You said it,’ I repeated. ‘Poor Aretta.’
‘Remember the old hotel you worked in last year?’ I asked Dad at tea-time that night.
‘Remember?’ he said. ‘I’ll never forget it.’
‘So what exactly is it?’
‘It’s called a direct provision centre. It’s where asylum seekers have to live while the government decides if they can stay in Ireland or not.’
‘And why do they come here in the first place?’
‘All kinds of reasons,’ said Mum. ‘Sometimes people come because their race or religion isn’t popular in their own country. Sometimes people seek asylum because they’ve disagreed with their government and are afraid of being punished.’
‘So these people are lucky to be here, where they can believe or say whatever they want, and not get into trouble?�
� I said.
Dad made a face. ‘That’s the theory, but in my opinion, we don’t treat these people very well. We feed them, and give them a roof over their heads, but we could do a whole lot more.’
‘Anyway,’ said Mum. ‘Why the sudden interest in asylum seekers?’
‘There’s a new girl in our class, Aretta, and Ella and I think she might live in the old Grand Hotel.’
‘You’re not sure?’
‘She never said. I don’t think she wants to talk about it.’
‘I wouldn’t blame her,’ said Dad. ‘If I lived there, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either. But if you want to invite Aretta over here some afternoon, she’d be very welcome.’
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ said Mum. ‘Why don’t you invite her over for tea tomorrow?’
Chapter Eleven
I was just at the gate of the school the next day, when Aretta marched up to me. Her face was all tight and scary looking, and her eyes were huge and dark. I figured she probably wouldn’t be coming for tea in my house any time soon.
I looked over my shoulder, hoping that Ella might be around, but there was no sign of her.
‘Er … hi, Aretta,’ I said.
‘You followed me!’ she said. ‘You and Ella followed me home. How dare you do that? Haven’t you heard of respecting people’s privacy?’
I thought about denying it, but decided that wasn’t going to help. There was no way Aretta was going to believe me, and it would be just one more lie.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We did follow you. But we meant well, honest. You’re always so nice during school time, but at the end of the day, it’s like you turn into a different person. You rush off like there’s a pack of wild dogs chasing you.’
‘So going home straight after school is now a crime in this country?’
‘Of course it isn’t. But Ella and I were worried about you.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I know about the direct provision centre,’ I said. ‘My dad explained it all to me. I understand––’
