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Authors: Nick Gifford
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more quietly, Tina added, “Uncle Nigel and Aunty Jill are going to get a divorce . They don’t like each other any more.”
“Washing up,” interrupted Mike, realising too late what his daughter was saying. “Come on, girls. I’ll wash and you two can dry. Okay?”
At that moment the telephone rang again. Matt looked at his watch with a start: it was well past eleven o’clock. They had been waiting for over two hours since Carol had first called from the hospital.
Mike answered and listened to what his wife had to say. “Okay,” he said. “See you soon.” And, “Yes, they’ll be in bed.”
He put the receiver down and Matt saw that his uncle was looking relieved. “He’s okay,” he said. “They got to him in time. He’s going to survive.”
Part Three
Alternity
8 The Waredens of Crooked Elms
About fifteen minutes later, Matt heard the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house. Mike was still upstairs with Tina and Kirsty, making sure they were settled for the night, and Vince had gone off to his room, losing interest as soon as Carol had called to say things were okay.
Matt looked out of the window and saw his aunt passing some money through the window of a taxi. He went to open the door. Carol and his mother looked terrible: pale faced, heavy shadows under their tired-looking eyes.
“Thanks,” said Carol, brushing past him. Then she paused and turned half back towards him. “You were just in time,” she said. “If you hadn’t looked in on him when you did...”
Matt didn’t know what to say. All evening, his thoughts had kept returning to what had happened. In particular, he kept asking himself, What’s Gramps going to think when they’ve pumped the medicine out of his stomach? Will he be grateful? Will he praise Matt for being ‘just in time’?
His mother took him by surprise and hugged him as he stood back to let her in. He stood awkwardly until she let go. He still hadn’t got things straight in his mind, but he was still angry with her for trying to keep him in the dark – she had only admitted what was happening when there had been no alternative. He wasn’t going to forget that in a hurry.
~
A short time later, he shut the box room door behind him and leaned with his back against it. He was shaking again, still reacting to the events of the evening – the shock, the fear, the anger.
He stripped, and pulled on some pyjama trousers. Then he turned off the light and slipped under the striped cotton sheets, the camp bed’s springs groaning beneath him.
He lay for some time with his hands behind his head.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wasn’t even remotely tired.
He remembered the letter. The suicide note. Was it right to read it, now that Gramps’ suicide had been prevented?
He sighed. He knew that no matter how much he reasoned with himself, his curiosity was certain to win in the end.
He got up again, turned on the light, found the letter in one of the back pockets of his jeans. He climbed back into bed and slid a finger along under the flap.
August 10
My dear Matthew,
I will be dead when you read this. Please do not blame me for taking this option: it is not without some deliberation that I decided to end things now. I have gone to the same place as your grandmother, wherever that might be. Life has not been endurable since she was killed.
Matt paused at this point, puzzled at his grandfather’s choice of words: ‘since she was killed’ not ‘since she died’ or ‘since she passed away’. What had happened on that day in the house at Crooked Elms, he wondered?
He returned to the letter:
However, I am not writing to justify my own cowardly actions. This is the last letter I will write; I have already made my excuses in my letters to Carol and Jill.
I am writing to you, especially, Matt. The others are more familiar with the ways of our strange family, but you have grown up apart: what you are experiencing, and what you are to learn, will
“Washing up,” interrupted Mike, realising too late what his daughter was saying. “Come on, girls. I’ll wash and you two can dry. Okay?”
At that moment the telephone rang again. Matt looked at his watch with a start: it was well past eleven o’clock. They had been waiting for over two hours since Carol had first called from the hospital.
Mike answered and listened to what his wife had to say. “Okay,” he said. “See you soon.” And, “Yes, they’ll be in bed.”
He put the receiver down and Matt saw that his uncle was looking relieved. “He’s okay,” he said. “They got to him in time. He’s going to survive.”
Part Three
Alternity
8 The Waredens of Crooked Elms
About fifteen minutes later, Matt heard the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house. Mike was still upstairs with Tina and Kirsty, making sure they were settled for the night, and Vince had gone off to his room, losing interest as soon as Carol had called to say things were okay.
Matt looked out of the window and saw his aunt passing some money through the window of a taxi. He went to open the door. Carol and his mother looked terrible: pale faced, heavy shadows under their tired-looking eyes.
“Thanks,” said Carol, brushing past him. Then she paused and turned half back towards him. “You were just in time,” she said. “If you hadn’t looked in on him when you did...”
Matt didn’t know what to say. All evening, his thoughts had kept returning to what had happened. In particular, he kept asking himself, What’s Gramps going to think when they’ve pumped the medicine out of his stomach? Will he be grateful? Will he praise Matt for being ‘just in time’?
His mother took him by surprise and hugged him as he stood back to let her in. He stood awkwardly until she let go. He still hadn’t got things straight in his mind, but he was still angry with her for trying to keep him in the dark – she had only admitted what was happening when there had been no alternative. He wasn’t going to forget that in a hurry.
~
A short time later, he shut the box room door behind him and leaned with his back against it. He was shaking again, still reacting to the events of the evening – the shock, the fear, the anger.
He stripped, and pulled on some pyjama trousers. Then he turned off the light and slipped under the striped cotton sheets, the camp bed’s springs groaning beneath him.
He lay for some time with his hands behind his head.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wasn’t even remotely tired.
He remembered the letter. The suicide note. Was it right to read it, now that Gramps’ suicide had been prevented?
He sighed. He knew that no matter how much he reasoned with himself, his curiosity was certain to win in the end.
He got up again, turned on the light, found the letter in one of the back pockets of his jeans. He climbed back into bed and slid a finger along under the flap.
August 10
My dear Matthew,
I will be dead when you read this. Please do not blame me for taking this option: it is not without some deliberation that I decided to end things now. I have gone to the same place as your grandmother, wherever that might be. Life has not been endurable since she was killed.
Matt paused at this point, puzzled at his grandfather’s choice of words: ‘since she was killed’ not ‘since she died’ or ‘since she passed away’. What had happened on that day in the house at Crooked Elms, he wondered?
He returned to the letter:
However, I am not writing to justify my own cowardly actions. This is the last letter I will write; I have already made my excuses in my letters to Carol and Jill.
I am writing to you, especially, Matt. The others are more familiar with the ways of our strange family, but you have grown up apart: what you are experiencing, and what you are to learn, will
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