Loose Connections by Rosemary Hayes Page B

sense of what had just happened. He had stopped shivering, but his nerves were raw and he was anxious to get back to his house and familiar
surroundings.
    And Verity.
    No, not Verity. I’ve had enough of all this. I just want things to be back to normal. I don’t care if Gran’s losing it. I’ll cope with her myself. She’s
my
gran, for God’s sake. She’s got nothing to do with Verity. I’m sick of Verity taking over. Who the hell does she think she is?
    To his horror, Jake realised that he was crying and that his tears were making the pony’s neck damp. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes.
    ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘It’s not your fault. Nothing’s your fault.’
    Still sniffing, he felt his way back to the orchard gate and fumbled for the catch. He opened the gate and went through, closing it carefully behind him. The pony followed him to the fence and
now it pushed its nose into his back.
    Jake smiled. He felt that the pony sensed his fear and confusion. ‘I’ll bring you an apple or something next time,’ he whispered, giving it a final pat.
    Next time! What am I thinking? There isn’t going to be a next time. I am never coming back to this damn place! Never! Verity and her animals and her spooky friends can stay here –
and stay well away from me and Gran.
    Angry now, Jake crept round to the front of the house. It was dark and silent. An owl hooted nearby and he jumped and stumbled, putting out his hand to save himself. It connected with some
brambles and he pulled it away, swearing. At last he found the path and hurried towards the front gate, crushing the weeds beneath his feet, desperate to get out.
    He pushed the dilapidated front gate out of his way with such force that the final hinge gave way and the gate crashed onto the ground. But he didn’t even pause. Once he was out on the
pavement he started to run, faster and faster.
    If Verity can play tricks like that, what might she do to Gran?
    And then, again, that voice in his head breaking through his confusion of thoughts.
    ‘Don’t you understand?’
    But he thrust it out of his mind.
    ‘I’m an idiot!’ he panted. Who had he been kidding? He’d entrusted Gran to some weird girl. Angrily, he thrust aside the picture of Gran chatting happily to Verity, of
Gran, Verity and Kenny in the garden laughing together.
    I wanted help. That’s why I did it. I didn’t think. Mum or Dad would never have done it.
    All he wanted now was to get home and make sure Gran was OK.
    When he reached his front door, he dropped his keys on the ground and had to scramble around looking for them.
    Bloody keys! Where are they! Damn Verity! Damn her!
    He found the keys at last and fumbled, missing the lock. At last he opened the door, burst into the house and ran into the lounge.
    No one there.
    He pounded up the stairs. If Verity was still there, he’d have it out with her. Tell her he never wanted to see her again.
    The door to Gran’s bedroom was ajar. He swallowed, and took a deep breath as he pushed it open.
    Gran was sitting on the edge of the bed.
    ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, smiling at him.
    Jake looked round.
    ‘Is Verity still here?’
    Gran shook her head.
    Jake went over to her. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. He felt, with a shock, the fragility of her bones, the thinness of her hands and wrists.
    ‘Has Verity gone home, Gran?’
    Gran looked straight at him.
    ‘She’s gone,’ she said, her face confused and her lip trembling.
    Oh God, she’s going to cry!
    ‘It’s OK, Gran,’ he said gently. ‘I’m here now. We’ll manage. We’ll be OK. You’ll see.’ Awkwardly, he released one of his hands and started
to stroke her arm.
    ‘I wish she was here,’ said Gran. ‘I want Verity.’
    Jake closed his eyes. There was something so final about the way Gran had said, ‘She’s gone.’
    They didn’t speak for a while, and then Jake said. ‘Did Verity say she’d come tomorrow?’
    Gran shook her