‘Eighty-one.’ Ebenezer shoved in a large mouthful of beef, as if hoping to avoid answering any more questions. Joan didn’t take the hint.
‘How long have you lived there by yourself? I mean, were you ever married and do you have any children or did you have brothers or sisters or anything?’
‘Joan,’ I chided, glancing at Ebenezer.
‘It’s all right. Children are naturally curious. It’s a crime how quickly adults can stamp that out of them. I was married. My wife died fifteen years ago. We had a son but he’s dead, too. My sister lived here until she got married at seventeen. She died in childbirth a few years later.’
‘Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.’ I was aghast.
Ebenezer shrugged. ‘Everybody dies. Hopefully won’t be too much longer for me.’
‘My mum might die,’ Joan added, smashing a chip into a blob of ketchup. ‘I mean, she might die soon.’
‘That’s very unfortunate.’
‘Joan, Dr Morgan said that she’s not going to die any time soon; she might be poorly for a while, but the medication is really helping.’
‘Really?’ Joan looked at me, face an impassive mask. ‘Because with her cirrhosis score there’s a fifty-two per cent chance of dying within two years without a transplant. Hundreds of people die every year before a suitable donor becomes available. So, I think Dr Morgan might not be telling you the whole truth. Oh, and it’s irreversible. She isn’t going to get better.’
‘Every case is different. Dr Morgan is looking at her as an individual, not statistics.’ I tried to sound calm, but inside my heart was like a jackhammer. I had to put down my fork to hide how badly my hand was trembling. Fifty-two per cent? Did Leanne know this? How did Joan know this? I would have to keep a closer eye on what she was up to in the library.
‘Your mother is one very strong, determined woman,’ Ebenezer said, giving Joan a serious look. ‘I’d bet my hat on her beating the odds.’
‘I know. But tomorrow we’re going to find my grandparents and tell them what’s happening, just in case.’
Ebenezer raised his eyebrows.
‘Sam’s coming with us, and he’s a real ranger, for his actual job, and in his other job he hunted people so he’s been helping us. Plus, he loves Ollie so he wants to impress her so she’ll change her mind and decide to be his girlfriend.’
‘Sam…’ Ebenezer frowned in concentration. ‘Short hair, big shoulders, looks like he spends all year in the sun? Smiles too often?’
‘That’s him!’
Ebenezer nodded. ‘I’m sure he’ll prove very useful.’
He endured a main course and dessertful of Joan’s random chatter, before she swivelled her questions back to him. ‘Why do you hardly ever come out of your house or want to talk to anyone?’
‘Don’t you have days when you want peace and quiet?’
Joan nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, yes. But not every day.’
‘Each to their own.’
She thought some more. ‘Is it because everybody you loved died, so you’re afraid to get close to anyone else in case you lose them too?’
Oh my goodness. If this carried on, Ebenezer would never open his door again.
‘Joan, enough of the personal questions! I’m so sorry.’ I shook my head in embarrassment. ‘She reads a lot of books.’
Ebenezer nodded. ‘I’d noticed.’
I happened to notice that he didn’t contradict Joan’s suggestion. I made a note to tread slowly and carefully with my neighbour. Like a hunter sneaking up on a deer, we’d have to get close to him before he realised what was happening. Then, BAM, we’d be friends.
26
On Thursday morning, Joan finally gave up bumping about in her bedroom and clattered downstairs around six thirty. I decided to stop pretending I could sleep and join her. While I was of course anxious and apprehensive about the trip, I had to admit that the thought of Sam accompanying us had a complicated effect on my emotional state. While relieved to have another adult involved, the prospect of spending a whole day with him couldn’t help but jack up my jitters.
‘I can’t eat!’ Joan groaned, lolling over the table. ‘My stomach is all scrumpled.’
‘I know how you feel, but you’ll have to unscrumple it. We aren’t leaving until you’ve had breakfast.’
‘Ugh!’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘I’ll have a snack in the car.’
‘We aren’t leaving for another two hours. Why don’t you get dressed, and then read for a bit to settle your nerves?’
‘Read? How am I supposed to concentrate on a book when I’m about to meet my grandparents for the first time!’
‘Hopefully meet…’
‘Yes, I know, I know!’
She thumped upstairs and, I found out forty minutes later when I went to see where she’d got to, proceeded to try on and then toss aside every single one of her outfits.
‘I have nothing to wear!’
‘The clothes mountain would imply otherwise.’
‘Arrrgggh! You don’t get it! I have nothing right for this!’ She began randomly picking up items and throwing them over her shoulder in dismissal. ‘This is too small. This has a hole in the knee. This is stained. This looks weird. This makes me look about nine. This doesn’t go with anything else…’
‘Joan.’ I stepped over the pile and put my arms around her. ‘If they are the people we think they are, the kind of grandparents who want to be a part of your life, then they won’t care what you wear.’
‘They might, though!’
‘Are you going to care what they’re wearing?’
She sniffed, pressing her face onto my shoulder. ‘I would if it was a Nazi uniform. Or just a dirty pair of pants and a string vest. Or like one of Ebenezer’s T-shirts but it said something like “I hate reading” or “All lives matter”.’
‘Well, you’ll be fine then in your blue shorts and the stripy T-shirt.’
‘I wish I had a nice dress. Or… or something pink with flowers on it. The kind of clothes nice, pretty girls wear.’
‘Joan.’ I pulled back so I could look her right in the eyes. ‘You are a fantastic, interesting, clever, brave, beautiful girl, and you don’t like flowery pink dresses. Girls and women can wear whatever they like. It has no reflection on how nice or pretty they are.’
She shrugged, unconvinced. ‘I just want to look like a normal kid.’
‘Oh my darling. Don’t ever wish you were normal – as if any one of us really is. Do normal girls find their long-lost grandparents and plan an expedition to meet them? Do they take in half-dead puppies they find in the woods and teach them how to dance? Do they decide that they’re so determined to be courageous and powerful that they change their own name? You are anything but normal, and that’s what makes you so incredible. Was Frodo normal? Was Katniss Everdeen? Joan of Arc was pretty much the least normal woman in history!’
‘Okay, okay, I get it!’ Joan sniffled, laughing through her tears. ‘I’m a weirdo but a good weirdo, so I might as well dress like it so we can find out straight away if Nana and Grandad are going to be all right with it or not.’