3

This is where I have a proper cry and then get given a letter from Grams

The next morning Mr. Burnley came around to drive Dad into town. When someone dies there is an awful lot of paperwork to be done so that everyone knows they are really dead.

Dad had to register Grams’s death and collect her death certificate. To be honest, I still don’t see the point in awarding a dead person a certificate. Especially when they didn’t even have to try very hard to get it. I asked Dad if he was going to put it on the wall with my gold swimming certificate. Now that did require effort. I had to tie knots in my pajama bottoms and blow them up to make floats while I was treading water. Dad said no—he’d have to send it to the bank. I still don’t know why the bank wanted my Grams’s prize for dying.

Dad told me to keep busy while he was out, so that I wouldn’t feel too sad. I logged on to my favorite fact-finding website, Factination, and learned that:

1.Bees can get drunk on alcohol, but when they return to the hive there are these bouncer bees who refuse to let them in until they sober up. Ha—funny!

2.A male swan is called a cob and the female swan is called a pen. The mute swan—the type the Queen owns—has a top speed of fifty-five miles per hour. That’s the same speed Grams was going when she hit the war memorial.

3.Children’s cells live on in their mothers. Babies’ DNA has been found knitted into their mother’s brain, bone, and heart tissue. Oh.

And that’s when I stopped looking at facts. I realized that when my mom died, a tiny bit of me died too. And when Grams died, the last tiny bit of my mom died with her.

I had not reckoned on facts making me feel worse. Usually they make me feel better. After that, all I wanted to do was burrow underneath my comforter and shut out the world. I went to my closet and chose one of the sweaters Grams had made me. Once she told me she knitted me sweaters so that I had something to hug me all day. At the time I thought it was a bit cringey, but in that moment, more than anything, I needed one of her hugs.

I chose the beige one with the brown teddy bear on the front with the words Family Makes You Happy stitched beneath. It’s important that you know I would never wear it out in public. I think I was probably using it as a sort of knitwear comfort blanket. I hid under my covers and took Grams’s hanky from under my pillow and sniffed it deeply. I’m not good at crying, but it felt like one of those times when it would be worth giving it a go. I have to admit, after a few minutes of huge full-body sobs, I started feeling a little better. And then I started feeling a little hot. It was July and I was wearing a chunky knit under a comforter.

Just as I threw the covers off, I heard Dad’s crutches scuffling on the carpet on the landing. He hadn’t made it upstairs since the accident.

The door opened and his head poked in.

“You alright, son?” He pointed a crutch at me. “Is that one of your Grams’s sweaters?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ah, that’s nice. Make you feel close to her?”

“It does a little. I took a handkerchief of hers too.” I held it out to him. “It smells like lavender.”

Dad smiled this lopsided smile and took the hanky. It was when he held it up that we both realized my monumental mistake.

“Oh, Freddie, you dope,” he snorted. “You’ve been sniffing your Grams’s undies.”

I don’t know really what to say about that other than it happened, and I’ve put it behind me. When Dad had regained his composure, he remembered why he’d come up to speak to me and his face became all serious.

“Fred, I’ve got something for you from the lawyers.” He pulled out an envelope from his back pocket.

“What is it?”

His eyes started to look a little watery again, so I said, “Do you know the Chinese invented paper envelopes in the second century BC?”

And he said, “That’s wonderful, Fred.” Which is odd, because of all the facts I’ve told him in the past, I don’t think this one is more wonderful than the rest.

He passed the envelope to me and I saw my name written on the front in twirly old-lady writing.

“It’s from your Grams.”

“But she’s dead.”

“She wrote it when she was alive, for you to read once she was dead.”

This is also odd—if she knew she was going to die she should have told somebody. I slid my fingers under the flap and opened it up.

Dear Fred,
My little soldier.

That was as far as I got. I suddenly felt like I might cry again, so I gulped away my tears and breathed out slowly.

Dad put his arm on my shoulder and said, “You don’t have to read it now. Put it away for when you’re ready. When you feel strong enough.”

He tapped his cast with his crutch. “I’m going to lie down. My leg’s killing me.”

I helped him downstairs and onto the sofa. His voice got a little squeaky when he said, “You meant the world to your Grams. And you mean the world to me.”

It felt like a bubble of sadness was ballooning in my chest, so I thought it was best if I was on my own. “I think I’m going to head upstairs to my room. Can I get you anything before I go?”

“Grab me a soda and a bag of chips, would you?”

I got him a soda and some chips and plumped up the cushions for him and then scratched a bit on his back he couldn’t reach.

“You’re a good boy, Fred. Your mom would be proud of you.”

I never met my mom. I don’t know what her voice sounded like or if she smelled of lavender like Grams or some other flower. I don’t know if she could roll her tongue like I can but Dad can’t, or if she got to see me before she died.

But one fact I do know about my mom is that she was easily pleased.

I mean really easily pleased.

I left Dad in his cloud of chips crumbs and went up to my room. I took my Things I’ve Done That Would Make Mom Proud notebook out of my desk drawer. It’s where I write a list of things I have done that my dad says would have made Mom proud. There’s quite a lot of entries. None of them were difficult things. But I still like reading them. Here are some examples so you get the picture.

My first day at St. Theresa’s

All I accomplished was eating some Frosted Flakes and getting dressed in my uniform (I didn’t even tie my shoelaces—Grams did that).

Acting in the school nativity

Not even a speaking role—I only had to wear a rubber glove strapped to my stomach as an udder and moo a couple of times.

Learning to ride my bike

Literally everyone else (other than Charlie) could ride a bike before I could.

Getting my first sticker in my math book, aged seven

I had only learned the two, five, and ten times tables. Ben had his sevens, which were really hard to get when you’re in third year.

I added getting Dad a soda and some chips and the back scratching to the list as well.

I must have drifted off to sleep because when I woke up my notebook was stuck to my face with my own drool. I peeled it off carefully. A few of the words were smudged but it wasn’t too bad. I couldn’t believe it when I checked my robot alarm clock and it said 8 p.m.! I’d missed my dinner. Grams would never have let me miss my dinner. I need my food. I’m a growing boy.

Then I remembered Grams.

And then I remembered The Letter.

I fished it out of my back pocket and opened the flap. And that’s when I saw that The Letter wasn’t the only thing in the envelope. My birth certificate was also inside.