Young Writers Society

The rain pounds against my rain mac as I jog up the driveway. My feet crunch on the gravel and my shoes splash through puddles, sending water soaking up the bottom of my jeans, but I keep my eyes on the wooden doors underneath the sign for Jasmine Villa, home for the elderly.

My shoes squeak on the lino as I step into the entrance hall. There’s some shitty classical music playing, giving off the aura that this place is the finest you’ll ever see. It’s not though. Not judging by the smell of bleach and moth balls. They could have at least stretched to buying some air freshener or candles.

“Can I help you?”

I don’t recognise the woman behind the desk. She must be new.

I pull down my hood and run my hands though my hair. I’m dripping water into a puddle at my feet. I must look a right state as the woman scrunches up her nose like the way Niamh does when she laughs. This woman isn’t laughing though.

“I’m Sadie Parker,” I say. “I’m here to see my nan, Vera.”

The woman’s rounded face pales at my name and I look behind her at the photographs pinned to the notice board, pretending not to have noticed. The pictures are of the residents on days out. My nan isn’t in any of them. Must have been from before Dad dumped her here.

“Sadie Parker?”

I nod and glance at her name badge. Gertrude. Oh dear. Looking at her appears to make her nervous and she shifts in her plush leather chair. My nan doesn’t get a leather chair.

“Uh, your nan’s been moved. She’s in room fourteen now.”

I frown which seems to make Gertrude even more nervous. Mum didn’t say anything about this. “Oh. Okay.”

“Third floor.”

“I know where it is,” I say with a sugary smile. “Can I go up?”

Gertrude nods, her wiry eyebrows up near her hairline.

“Thanks,” I reply. I squeak over to the lifts and jab at the buttons for a second before turning back to look at her. “Oh and Gertrude?” Her eyes widen from behind her thick rimmed glasses. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me.” The doors to the lift open and I step inside, glad to get away from the music. “I’m not all that bad. Honest.”

The third floor landing is just as dull as the second had been so I don’t stop to inspect the peeling wallpaper or crooked fire-extinguisher. I make my way to room fourteen quickly, knocking loudly so that if my nan doesn’t hear, the other residents will.

After hammering on the door for the fifth time, I let myself in.

“You’re getting more patient,” a voice says from in front of the TV. “Last time you only knocked three times before you barged your way in.”

“You should bloody answer then,” I say with a smile.

My nan gives me a gummy smile of her own from her chair. It’s the same red, velour one from her old room. At least they let her keep it. My like for Gertrude increases the tiniest of bits.

“I like teasing you. Serves you right for not visiting me yesterday.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t know Mum was coming over until after she’d been.”

“I’m not mad,” Nan says. “You visit more than your brother.”

I step into the room, slip off my shoes, and shut the door behind me. Room fourteen looks exactly the same as her old room. Same old fashioned wall paper and cream carpet. The same tiny kitchenette and avocado bathroom set, I realise, as I pass the toilet to take the seat across from Nan.

She’s in the middle of knitting something. It could be a hat for a giant or a sweater for a big baby. I still haven’t worn the cardigan she knitted me for my tenth birthday; I’m waiting until I balloon to a size twenty for it to fit.

I smile. “Declan’s revising for his exams.”

Nan nods. “Your mother said. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’ll make it,” I reply. “Two sugars?”

“Three. I’m living life on the edge!”

I laugh as I get up to flick the kettle on. My damp jeans are sticking to my legs and I hang my coat on the back of one of the two dining chairs that are set either side of a fold up table. I spot a packet of sweets in the bin but I pretend not to notice. There’s only one person I know who eats chocolate limes like there’s no tomorrow. “Go steady there, you rebel.”

Nan laughs in her cheery way before she stops, points a finger at me, and aims a serious look my way. “Speaking of rebels. How did you get that black eye, young lady?”

I drum my fingers along the kitchen counter and the lie comes easy. “I walked into a cupboard door. Declan hadn’t shut it properly.”

Nan nods but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe me. She may look like your typical sweet old lady with her blue rinsed hair and delicate frame, but she’s no ninny.

I get out two cups to give me a reason to look away from her. Sometimes it’s like she’s looking right into my soul with her bright green eyes. They’d freak me out if I didn’t share them.

Nan goes back to watching the TV and knitting as I make the tea, adding the three sugars that she’s requested. I settle for a hot chocolate that I find in one of the boxes she’s yet to unpack from the move.

I set her cup down on the coffee table before standing by the window. “You’ve got a better view from this room.”

“Yes,” she replies, holding up her knitted creation in front of her. She’s using a neon pink wool today. I’ve only ever seen that colour on one person before and even Pamela wouldn’t be brave enough to wear Nan’s handiwork. “It’s a very nice view of a car park.”

I snort into my cup. I hope she never loses her sense of humour.

“Sit down, you’re making the room look untidy.”

I look around at the still full cardboard boxes, stacks of Takeabreaks, and balls of wool next to her chair.

“Right.” I sit down anyway so she can’t complain. “So, how are you?”

“I’m brilliant,” she replies. “I went to bingo with Hilda from room twelve last week. Didn’t win though. Apparently it’s impossible to cheat if your handwriting’s as bad as mine.” She holds up a hand. “Bloody shakes. They do my head in.”

I bite down on my lip. “I’ll have to come play with you one day.”

“Yes!” Nan beams. “That’ll be nice.”

I return the smile.

“Seeing as you don’t have a job to go to. Again.” Her smile’s disappeared and she’s looking at me from over her glasses so I can’t roll my eyes without her seeing.

I pout. “I didn’t like it there.”

“Well I don’t like it here much, but you don’t see me running away.”

I grip my mug harder, my knuckles turning white. This isn’t the time or place to discuss how much I don’t want Nan to be here in this crappy home for the elderly.

“Did you meet the new warden? “

“Gertrude? Chubby face? Glasses?”

Nan nods and her loose curls wiggle on her head. “Yeah. She seems nicer than Karen was.”

I smile. Nan seems happy enough so the anger that had been threatening to erupt soaks back into me, for now anyway. I look to the small TV that’s set on top of a small chest of drawers, for a distraction. Nan used to keep sweets in the top drawer. A mint was always a sure thing if Declan and I sat through the visit without fidgeting. That was when she’d lived in her own house, over two years ago. I haven’t gotten a treat since she’s moved here. I don’t know if it’s because she’s run out of sweets or that she thinks we’re too old for her tin of mints. Or it could have something to do with the fact that I haven’t exactly deserved a treat these last years.

“What are you watching?”

Nan gestures to the TV with the flap of a hand. “Some awful program about antiques. The presenter’s so patronising.” She tuts. “I don’t know how people can sit around watching daytime TV all day.”

I know this is a slight dig at me. Nan’s just as good at making me feel guilty as Mum is. Sometimes I wonder if they’re related, rather than Nan being my dad’s mum. I’m about to say that having cable increases the chance of finding something decent to watch when my phone buzzes from my pocket. Nan doesn’t notice until I’m reading the message.

“Who’s that? Is it Niamh? Lovely girl. Has she got her car back yet? Shame she crashed it.”

Even though I love Nan, most of the time it’s best not to tell her the truth. Like how I’d told her that Niamh had backed her car into a lamppost, rather than that she’d had it taken off of her for setting fire to her ex-boyfriends bike. Seeing as I was there and may have helped a tiny bit.

“No. It’s from someone else.”

Nan’s face fills with glee. “A boy?”

I reach up to rub my neck, my feet shuffling on the floor. I can’t look at her for fear of blushing. It’s not like I’ve never had a boyfriend, but it’s not something I really discuss with my nan. Or parents for that matter. That’s what Niamh’s for.

“It’s from Via.”

Nan’s face scrunches up with distaste. “Oh.”

She seems to believe me and I’m glad.

“I went to Dexter’s the other night, Nan.”

She looks up from glaring at her wool creature. “Aww, that was nice. How’s Spencer?”

“He’s good.”

“Was there any trouble?”

I suck on the inside of my cheek. “I don’t think so.”

Nan quirks an eyebrow, like she finds it amusing that I’m attempting to shield her from the truth. I’m almost sure that she knows I got my black eye from fighting at Dexter’s. Not that Mum would have told her; Mum likes to live in a fantasy world where I’m a loving daughter who’s never got into a fight in her life.

“Good.”

We both pretend to watch the TV for a bit while we drink our drinks, and I realise that Nan was right about the presenter being patronising. I want to punch him in the face by the time five minutes has passed.

“I thought you weren’t friends with Via anymore?”

I look up from where I’d been staring at my phone with a frown. “I’m not really,” I reply.

“Why’s she texting you then?”

I open my mouth to speak but stop when Nan points a finger at me.

“The truth this time, Sadie.”

I twirl a strand of my hair in my fingers for a moment before sighing. “I met a guy at Dexter’s.”

Nan’s smile is smug and she tucks her knitting down into one of the open cardboard boxes as a sign that she’s giving me her full attention.

“And he’s kind of famous.”

Her hand moves to her chest. “Oh.”

I sit forward in my seat, my mind going back to the night I met Chace at Dexter’s. I know it’s stupid to feel giddy over a guy, but I can’t help but smile. “Do you remember me telling you about the guy who was in the film that Niamh and I went to see last year? We saw it four times.”

She nods. “Charles somebody?”

“Chace,” I correct. “Chace Milligan.” Even saying his name gives me chills.

It takes a moment but Nan seems to click, adding two and two together.

“And he’s the one texting you?”

“I think so,” I reply. “Only, I’m not too sure. It could be Declan messing around.”

Nan smiles patiently. “Does he know that you met this Chace boy?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve only told you and Niamh about it.”

“Then what makes you think it’s Declan and not Chace?”

“Well.” I pause, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed it had to be Declan. I mean, why would Chace text me?” I feel a fluttering sensation in my gut again as I think about him texting me because he likes me. But that’s stupid. He’s got millions of models and actresses to choose from. I’m acting like a deluded girl and I hate myself for it.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Sadie.” Nan’s leaning forward in her chair now, her flowery skirt bunching at her feet. “You’re beautiful and bright and you have a wicked sense of humour.”

I smile appreciatively. Nan always knows what to say to make me feel better.

“You’re a lot like me actually.” She winks and I chuckle before looking at the clock.

I feel suddenly guilty. “I better go,” I say. “Mum wants me home by five. Something about tea.”

“You go then,” Nan says with a smile. “I’ll see you again soon.”

I nod as I get up. Nan goes to move too but I pat her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I can see myself out.”

She smiles gratefully at me before I lean down to hug her. She smells like perfume and humbug mints.

I stand back up straight and she takes my hand in hers. “I wish you wouldn’t get into fights, Sadie, love. They’re never worth it.”

I look down at the floor, suddenly interested in the swirly red carpet. “I never start them.”

She squeezes my hand before letting me go. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Before you know it,” I agree.

I wait until I’m in the hallway before I take my phone back out of my pocket again.

Hey Sadie!

I’m so glad you replied. I’d love to meet up again. How does Ruby’s sound? Five tomorrow? Xx

I can feel my palms sweating. Could it be him?

Author's note - I think Vera might be one of my favourite character's ever. She's like a super cool nan. Anyway, I guess I'm hoping that this chapter shows Sadie's softer side. It hints at another reason why Sadie dislikes her dad so much too. Tell me what you thought, please.

Hope you liked it!

xDudettex