with a name scrawled in shaky handwriting. Carol , Jill , Kirsty , Tina . And there, at the bottom of the pile, Matthew .
He took the letter and replaced the others on the chair. Gramps must have been working all day at these letters. Whatever he had to say, it must be important.
“Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do?” asked Gramps, a strange intensity in his eyes. “But it’s your only real choice?”
Matt didn’t understand. He watched his grandfather cautiously, saw that his eyes were glazed again. Too much drink, he thought.
And then he did start to understand: Gramps’ strange calmness, his inability to string together more than a few words at a time. The letters – there was something horribly final about those letters.
Matt looked across at the chest of drawers... the nearly empty scotch bottle. There was something else lying there, something he had seen earlier, although he had not fully appreciated its significance.
It was a small bottle, with a printed label. The kind prescriptions come in.
It was lying on its side with its cap off, and it was empty. His grandfather’s words suddenly made sense: Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do? But it’s your only real choice?
Gramps had taken an overdose.
Matt’s eyes moved from the empty pill bottle to Gramps, then back again.
Then he leapt to his feet and dashed across the room to the landing. He had to get help, if it wasn’t already too late.
“Mum!” he called, the first time he had tried to speak to her since this afternoon. “Mum! It’s Gramps! He needs help!”
7 Waiting
Aunt Carol appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face pale – clearly alerted by the tone of Matt’s voice.
“What...?” She only had to look at him to be galvanised into action. She rushed up the stairs, footsteps thudding in rapid, staccato succession, like a boxer striking a punchbag.
“He’s taken some pills,” Matt said, as she hurried past him across the landing. “He’s taken some pills.”
Downstairs, his mother had appeared, followed by Uncle Mike. Matt looked at them, then at Carol’s retreating back. He felt helpless. He felt responsible .
He hurried back into Gramps’ room, as more steps sounded on the stairs.
Carol was by her father’s side. “Dad? Dad? What have you done? Dad ?”
Gramps was staring blankly across the room, a half-smile on his face. Slowly, he turned his eyes on his daughter. “Carol?” he said, in little more than a whisper. “Don’t worry, Carol. I’ll look for your mother, I will.”
She looked up at Matt. “What’s he taken?” she asked.
Matt pointed at the chest of drawers, the evidence of Gramps’ actions.
“I came up a few minutes ago,” he said. He knew it was important to get the facts straight. He struggled to think. “He seemed okay – very calm. He’s been drinking and he must have taken those pills.”
His mother appeared in the doorway followed by Mike, Vince and the girls.
“The bottle’s empty,” Matt added. “He’s been writing letters, too.”
Carol took the pills from the chest and studied the label, then she glanced down at the letters on the chair at the foot of the bed. “Call an ambulance,” she said. She looked up, and saw everyone in the doorway. “Jill, call an ambulance,” she said. “And everyone else can just get downstairs! Mike – what are you doing, bringing the girls up here?”
Mike looked around, as if surprised that he had been followed. He put his arms around his daughters and shepherded them away. Matt’s mother was already downstairs, tapping out 999 on the telephone.
As Matt backed out of the room, he saw Carol sweep up the letters and then return to crouch before her father, hanging desperately onto his hand, as if that would make any difference.
Matt joined Vince on the landing.
Vince shook his head. “The old goat certainly knows how to liven things up, doesn’t he?” his cousin said, in a
He took the letter and replaced the others on the chair. Gramps must have been working all day at these letters. Whatever he had to say, it must be important.
“Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do?” asked Gramps, a strange intensity in his eyes. “But it’s your only real choice?”
Matt didn’t understand. He watched his grandfather cautiously, saw that his eyes were glazed again. Too much drink, he thought.
And then he did start to understand: Gramps’ strange calmness, his inability to string together more than a few words at a time. The letters – there was something horribly final about those letters.
Matt looked across at the chest of drawers... the nearly empty scotch bottle. There was something else lying there, something he had seen earlier, although he had not fully appreciated its significance.
It was a small bottle, with a printed label. The kind prescriptions come in.
It was lying on its side with its cap off, and it was empty. His grandfather’s words suddenly made sense: Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do? But it’s your only real choice?
Gramps had taken an overdose.
Matt’s eyes moved from the empty pill bottle to Gramps, then back again.
Then he leapt to his feet and dashed across the room to the landing. He had to get help, if it wasn’t already too late.
“Mum!” he called, the first time he had tried to speak to her since this afternoon. “Mum! It’s Gramps! He needs help!”
7 Waiting
Aunt Carol appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face pale – clearly alerted by the tone of Matt’s voice.
“What...?” She only had to look at him to be galvanised into action. She rushed up the stairs, footsteps thudding in rapid, staccato succession, like a boxer striking a punchbag.
“He’s taken some pills,” Matt said, as she hurried past him across the landing. “He’s taken some pills.”
Downstairs, his mother had appeared, followed by Uncle Mike. Matt looked at them, then at Carol’s retreating back. He felt helpless. He felt responsible .
He hurried back into Gramps’ room, as more steps sounded on the stairs.
Carol was by her father’s side. “Dad? Dad? What have you done? Dad ?”
Gramps was staring blankly across the room, a half-smile on his face. Slowly, he turned his eyes on his daughter. “Carol?” he said, in little more than a whisper. “Don’t worry, Carol. I’ll look for your mother, I will.”
She looked up at Matt. “What’s he taken?” she asked.
Matt pointed at the chest of drawers, the evidence of Gramps’ actions.
“I came up a few minutes ago,” he said. He knew it was important to get the facts straight. He struggled to think. “He seemed okay – very calm. He’s been drinking and he must have taken those pills.”
His mother appeared in the doorway followed by Mike, Vince and the girls.
“The bottle’s empty,” Matt added. “He’s been writing letters, too.”
Carol took the pills from the chest and studied the label, then she glanced down at the letters on the chair at the foot of the bed. “Call an ambulance,” she said. She looked up, and saw everyone in the doorway. “Jill, call an ambulance,” she said. “And everyone else can just get downstairs! Mike – what are you doing, bringing the girls up here?”
Mike looked around, as if surprised that he had been followed. He put his arms around his daughters and shepherded them away. Matt’s mother was already downstairs, tapping out 999 on the telephone.
As Matt backed out of the room, he saw Carol sweep up the letters and then return to crouch before her father, hanging desperately onto his hand, as if that would make any difference.
Matt joined Vince on the landing.
Vince shook his head. “The old goat certainly knows how to liven things up, doesn’t he?” his cousin said, in a
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