Life is full of slightly unlikely surprises isn’t it? Like when you find a pound coin in the pocket of a coat you haven’t worn since last winter. (Quick, go and check them all now.) Or when you go on holiday and bump into a friend you haven’t seen for ages. Joanna hadn’t had much of what you might call luck up to this point in her life. She really was overdue for some good fortune. And unbeknownst to her, a little slice of it was about to come her way.
Sunday was dragging on. Joanna prepared Granny’s ’roasties’ as requested which Granny threw out of the window on her return, enraged at her lack of success in the squirrel hunting department. Joanna had to cook another Sunday lunch, this time a kebab with liver, kidney and meatballs. After she had devoured it and roundly criticised Joanna for her lack of cooking ability, the miserable old woman settled down to what she called her afternoon ’séance’. What she really meant was ‘siesta’ which is Spanish for afternoon nap, but she was a complete nitwit when it came to languages. Granny’s weekly ’séance’ was one of the few times during the week when Joanna was free to do whatever she wanted. No school, no chores, no Eyeball. As Joanna had no real friends to visit, or money to spend on exciting activities such as crazy golf, she usually spent this time walking in the countryside surrounding the old farmhouse in which she lived.
Joanna listened carefully for the sound of Granny Eyeball’s snoring. Actually she didn’t have to listen that carefully, you could have heard it a mile off. As well as being loud, Granny Eyeball’s snores were absolutely disgusting. As she breathed in, it sounded like a thousand pigs were arguing with each other. Then a little pause. Then a sound like a jungle full of monkeys blowing raspberries as she breathed out. Then a sort of dripping, gurgling sound as she dribbled down her chin. Then a little grunt. Then it all started again.
Joanna wrapped up a couple of crackers in a napkin and put them, along with a bottle of water, into her bag. Then she set off on foot down the country lanes. She walked and walked, happily daydreaming about how she might run away from Granny Eyeball.
She became so lost in these thoughts that she stopped concentrating on where she was going and before long she found herself on a long lonely road going up onto the moors. She stopped and frowned. Something about this place felt familiar. Was it the smell of the wild heather? Or the shape of that old tree leaning away from the road? Or perhaps it was the white and wonky gate at the top of what seemed to be a short driveway. Yes, that did look familiar. The little letterbox by the side of it, the trees guarding whatever was beyond.
Joanna approached the gate and put out her hands. She felt the splintered texture of the wood and the cold metal of the letterbox. Something told her she had been here before. As she peered down the drive the hairs on her arms sprang up. She quietly opened the gate and walked cautiously along the short drive. There in front of her was a cottage, white walled and thatched. She crept up to the tiny windows at the front of the house and peered in. Inside, an old lady was sitting with a pair of half moon glasses perched on her nose. She was sewing a floral pattern onto a small piece of fabric and on her lap sat a large ginger cat, stretched out and comfortable.
Joanna hesitated. What was she doing? She turned before the old lady could look up and see her and walked back down the driveway. She slipped through the gate and sat down on the grass bank beside the road to think. Her thoughts were mainly on the little cottage and why it had seemed so familiar.
Joanna had spent most of her eleven years either in Granny Eyeball’s horrible farmhouse or at school. Both were unpleasant places to be. But until Joanna was about three years old, she had lived with her parents somewhere nearby. And that was why she was behaving so weirdly about this cottage. She just had a feeling it might be something to do with her past. She didn’t really remember what had happened all those years ago and Granny Eyeball certainly hadn’t told her. She’d made the mistake of asking that question a few times.
All she had were a few clues snatched from the embers of one of Granny Eyeball’s bonfires. Granny Eyeball loved a good bonfire. She loved the heat. She loved the ash. She loved the smell. She loved the fact that other people’s washing ended up smelling awful. And she loved the thought that a hedgehog might have mistakenly made its nest in the middle.
When she was only about four or five Joanna had managed to rescue a few mementos from one of these fires. Granny had no doubt intended to destroy all evidence of Joanna’s former life. The precious items, all charred around the edges, were as follows:
A photograph of Joanna as a baby with her Mum and Dad. This was the only picture she had of her parents, or indeed of herself, and it was by far the most precious thing in the box. It was kept safe between the pages of an old copy of a book called ’The riddle of the sands’. An inscription at the front showed it had been given to her dad by someone called Terry.
A receipt for a week’s supermarket shopping.
A card from Joanna’s parents to Joanna on the occasion of her first birthday. On the outside was a picture of a smiling giraffe and inside it read ‘To our darling girl, Happy Birthday, All our love, Mum and Dad.’
A cinema ticket stub for a film called ‘Dwayne and Wayne go wild.’
A piece of paper with a doodle of a cat on it. Joanna imagined her mother or father drawing this to amuse her.
And that’s it. Joanna kept these memento’s, along with a few other possessions in a small, slightly whiffy shoebox. It doesn’t seem much does it? But to Joanna all of these things were incredibly important. Looking at them and thinking about them was the only way to remain attached to the life she had briefly known, but could not really remember.
The sound of a car jolted Joanna out of her thoughts. She stood and stepped back as it shot past on the narrow country lane. Her thoughts kept coming back to one simple idea.
Knock on the door.
Joanna knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, let alone knock on their front doors. That said, how could this little old lady be any worse than Granny Eyeball? Joanna found herself walking back up to the house and peering in through the window again at the neat little old lady. It was just possible she knew something about whoever had lived in the house before her. What was the harm in asking? In the end the decision was made for her. The old lady looked up and gave herself a fright. Joanna darted back and hid behind an ornamental sundial. The old lady opened the front door and called out.
‘Who’s there?’
Joanna said nothing.
‘Right, I’m calling the police then,’ she said pulling the door closed.
‘No, wait,’ Joanna leapt up, ‘Please don’t call the police!’ The door opened again slightly and the old lady peered out.
‘My word, you’re just a girl, I was expecting a hairy burglar or an escaped convict,’ she cried and opened the door fully, ‘What on earth are you doing out here on your own?’
‘I... I think I used to live here,’ Joanna managed to say.
’Did you now?’ A light of understanding seemed to go on in the lady’s eyes. She was about seventy years old and very petite. Her grey hair was cut short in a stylish fashion and she wore a long denim skirt and a stripy mariner top. ‘I’m Isabelle. I suppose you’d like to come in and take a look around?’ Joanna hesitated. The chance to see what might have been her old home was too tempting.
’I, er... would that be alright? I mean I’m not entirely sure I...’
’What’s your name young lady?’
’Joanna.’
’Well Joanna, you’re welcome to come and take a look if you’d like. I’m a slightly batty old lady and I’ll understand if you’d rather not come in. Come or go as you please.’ And the old lady stepped back and smiled kindly at Joanna who hesitated for a moment more before smiling back.
’Alright. Thank you,’ said Joanna and she followed, wide-eyed, as Isabelle led her to the cosy sitting room.
’I don’t suppose you know much about the people who lived here before you?’ Joanna asked as Isabelle bustled around the room tidying up books and empty mugs and turfing her cat from his comfy place on the sofa.
‘I bought this house when I came back from foreign parts. I got it from a man who said he’d bought it for a song at a car boot sale of all places and he was keen to make a tidy profit on it. I don’t think he’d actually ever lived here.’
’Oh,’ Joanna couldn’t hide her disappointment at this, but Isabelle continued talking.
’But I got to know a few of the locals and they told me about the people who had lived here before that.’
’Really? What?’ Joanna blurted out, more rudely than she had intended.
’I don’t know much but... I know that a family lived here. A mother and father with their young daughter.’
’What happened to...’ Joanna was going to say ’me’ but at the last minute changed it to ’them.’
’Well that’s the big question isn’t it? According to my neighbours the parents just disappeared one day, leaving their young daughter at nursery. The girl was sent to live in Ballskirk with her only relative, an old lady.’
‘And they didn’t know what happened to the parents?’ Joanna asked.
‘Vanished without trace,’ Isabelle paused and considered her guest for a moment, ’Would you like some hot chocolate? I was going to make some anyway.’
’What?’ Joanna was lost in thought. She felt sure this must have been her home, but what had happened to her parents? Granny Eyeball had always told her to stop asking stupid questions when she’d asked about them. She had kind of assumed that they were dead but...
’Joanna?’
’Oh, sorry, yes, yes please.’
’Why don’t you have a look around while I boil the milk?’
’Thank you,’ Joanna said as the old lady disappeared off to the kitchen. When Joanna returned to the sitting room, having inspected all of the rooms in the cottage, she found Isabelle and a mug of hot chocolate waiting for her. She couldn’t remember ever having such a luxury before, and as she took a sip, she discovered that she liked it very much. Especially the way Isabelle made it, with cream, sprinkles and marshmallows.
’Does the house feel familiar on the inside?’ Isabelle asked.
’Sort of,’ Joanna’s head was spinning with all this new information and couldn’t think of anything more to say.
To fill the silence Isabelle told Joanna a few stories about her own life, which she had spent sailing the seven seas, writing adventure novels and embroidering napkins, but Joanna was still engrossed in her own thoughts. Eventually the old lady, perhaps realising that Joanna was not really listening, sat back in her chair and said,
’So, this family that lived here, were they yours?
’I...I’m not entirely sure but.. I think so. I can’t remember any of it but I recognise this place. I’ve been living with my... well I don’t know if she really is my Granny but that’s what I have to call her.’
’Why don’t you tell me about her?’
’Well... Her real name is Fanny Burtlebee but everyone calls her Granny Eyeball.’
’Why on earth do they call her that?’
’It’s to do with her monocle.’
’A monocle? Who in the world wears a monocle in this day and age?’
’Well she does, and it make her look even more hideous that she would without it. Which is pretty bad in any case. She’s been wearing it so long that when she takes it off, her face stays in the same twisted expression that she’s had to pull in order to keep it in.’
’Why doesn’t she just wear a pair of glasses like any normal person.’
’She says it’s because she’s only short sighted in one eye. And she won’t pay for a pair of glasses because she only needs half a pair! She’s really tight about money. Also, she thinks glasses would make her look ugly, which is funny because she’s a hideous old frump anyway.’
’I get the impression that you don’t much like your Grandmother.’
’Neither would you if you were forced to slave for her all day long. She’s a vile old witch,’ Joanna cried forcefully
’She sounds it,’ Isabelle commented, glad to see her young friend was finally coming out of herself. She sat back in her chair as Joanna continued to talk.
’She lives in an old farmhouse, which the locals call ’Eyeball Mansion’ or ‘The Dump’ or ‘Granny’s lair’ or sometimes, ‘The Poo place’.’
Isabelle chuckled, ’I think I’ve heard of that.’
’If you walked in through her front door you’d find rooms like you’d find in a normal house – kitchen, lounge, dining room. But instead of being nicely decorated and clean like your cottage, it’s full of old mouldy furniture, threadbare carpets, windows glazed with cling film and lots of dust. There’s no bathroom, just a bath by the side of the house that’s connected to the guttering so it fills up with rainwater. And the toilet is just an old bog that’s been leant up against a tree in the garden.
’But what people don’t realise is there’s a secret door by the kitchen. She never lets ordinary people see what’s behind it. They all think she lives in that dirty disgusting house but I know better because I have to clean and cook for her. I know how she really lives. Behind the door there’s a set of stairs that leads to her private apartment or what she likes to call her ‘luxury rooms’. There’s deep pile carpets, soft comfy sofas with foot rests, oak beams, chrome fittings, chandeliers, pot pourri on every table, an enormous bath and shower, a lavish boudoir with four-poster bed, plenty of storage and every luxurious ‘mod con’ you could imagine.’
’But why?’ Isabelle exclaimed, ’Why does she pretend she lives like a pig?’
’Because she thinks people will try to break in and burglarise her. She wants everyone to think she’s as poor as a church mouse. But she’s not, she must be absolutely loaded. I don’t know how, but she must be. She never does any work or anything but she used to be an undertaker. It was her family’s business, but no one ever hires her as far as I can tell.’
’So what does she do all day?’
She hunts squirrels in the park or goes into Ballskirk to complain about things. She gets everything for free because she makes such a fuss complaining about everything. And do you want to hear something really disgusting?’ A sly smile appeared on Joanna’s face. She was really enjoying dissing Granny Eyeball.
’Yes, I think so.’
’When Granny Eyeball get home after a hard day of being a cow she takes all her clothes off and hangs them up at the top of the stairs. Then she walks around her luxury rooms talking to herself and looking at herself in the mirror!’
’How absolutely revolting!’ Isabelle laughed and Joanna joined her. Laughing her head off for the first time she could remember. They both laughed until tears ran down their cheeks and Isabelle had to get up and cough and not look at Joanna in case she started laughing again. Eventually they calmed down enough to continue the conversation and Isabelle asked Joanna if she lived in the luxury rooms as well.
’You’re joking aren’t you? She’d never let me in there unless she needed me to clean and cook for her. I live in the attic room, the coldest in the house. I have to climb up a ladder on the outside of the house and then climb in through a large hole in the roof. There’s no carpet and no furniture so I keep my clothes and things in carrier bags to stop them getting wet and I sleep on a really old and uncomfortable mattress. It’s pretty horrible.’
’It sounds awful! You poor girl.’ Isabelle jumped up and gave Joanna an enormous hug and told her she was welcome to come to the cottage anytime she wanted to get away from Eyeball Mansion.
’I’ll come every Sunday!’ Joanna blurted out, ’If that’s alright?’
’Of course. I always welcome any excuse to make a couple of cups of hot chocolate and Sundays are perfect,’ Isabelle replied, smiling. She could see that Joanna was in need of a friend. She was also secretly pleased to have found a young person to spend time with. Even though she was over seventy years old, she still felt like a spring chicken inside and found spending too much time with other old people rather boring. They always wanted to do slow things like going for a stroll or looking at country houses. Isabelle wanted to sail her yacht, go hang gliding and drive her car too fast around the country lanes, but her family and her doctor disapproved.
Joanna glanced up at the clock on Isabelle wall.
’Oh heck, I’ve got to go! Granny’ll kill me if she wakes up and I’m not there!’
So Isabelle gave her a lift back to the home in her car, a battered Renault 5, making sure to drop her off a little way away, so that Granny Eyeball didn’t see them. They arranged to meet the following Sunday at the same place and Joanna waved as Isabelle sped away. It was a wonderful feeling to have a friend, even if there was such a big gap in their ages. Joanna had never really had a proper friend before. Her school, Irk Lane Academy, was almost as awful as Eyeball Mansion. With a sinking feeling, Joanna trudged up the drive to Eyeball Mansion.
Sunday night doom descended as she realised that she hadn’t done her homework, or rather she had, but Granny Eyeball had eaten it, which meant she would have to do it again at least once.