Lawrence had never had a letter before, he'd had plenty of birthday and Christmas cards, and once he'd been sent a colour catalogue from Askey's toy shop, but never a letter. He hurried up to his room, then sat cross legged on his bed as he took the letter from his pocket. He wiggled his finger underneath the corner of the sticky flap at the back of the envelope then tore along its edge. Inside was a small folded piece of paper. Lawrence anxiously removed it as he considered what it could be. Perhaps it was Grandad's will, he thought. Perhaps he's left me everything he owns, and I'll have to send Nan to an old people's home and take over her house. Or maybe he's just left me all his money, and I can finally buy that new bike in Askey's window. Lawrence unfolded the small letter. There were just three words written on it in a column, "What Is Gaz." Lawrence folded the letter up again and squeezed it into his pocket before running out of the room and back downstairs to talk to Mum.
Mum was loading the dishwasher. "What is gaz?" Lawrence asked. "You should know love, you make enough of it," Mum continued stacking the dishes without looking up, "I can hardly fight my way into your room some days!" "No, not gas, gaz!" Lawrence bent down next to the dishwasher to try and get her full attention. "Oh, ok, well I think gaz is what people shorten the name Gary too, why do you ask?" Ignoring her question, Lawrence continued asking his, "do you know anyone called Gary Mum, or does Nan?" Mum clattered the plates together as she continued loading them, "I don't think so, can you stop asking silly questions and help fill this up?" "Not now Mum," Lawrence answered, "I'm on a secret mission." With that Lawrence hurried into the dining room to log onto the computer.
Molly had also taken her letter to her bedroom. Unlike Lawrence, she was in no hurry to open it. She sat at her dressing table, held the letter up to her face and breathed in its smell. She then coughed a little, and wrinkled her nose as she placed it back on the table. It didn't smell of Grandad, it smelled of liniment and mint imperials. Molly suspected that the letter had been in Nan's handbag for quite some time. After laying on her bed listening to music and thinking for a while, she returned to the envelope on her dressing table. Using a pencil she carefully teased it open before viewing the small folded letter inside. Moments later, even though her music was playing loudly, she heard the raucous footsteps of Lawrence running up the stairs. She quickly popped the letter back into its envelope, and was already laying back on her bed by the time he got to her open doorway.
"So, what did your letter say?" Lawrence asked. "What did yours say? or couldn't you manage to read it?" Molly snapped. "Actually mine was about this guy called Gary who Grandad knew, we'll have to try and find him, it's probably pretty urgent." Molly smiled sarcastically, "oh right, maybe he's under the bed, have you checked?" Molly enjoyed sarcasm, it was her second favourite way of talking to Lawrence, the first being yelling at him from a different room. "Come on then, what did yours say?" Lawrence persisted. "My letter is a poem." Lawrence laughed loudly, "oh yeah, Grandad was a brilliant poet, let me guess," putting on his poshest voice he continued, "roses are red, oh no, I'm dead." "You're just sick," Molly replied angrily, "Grandad knew I'd understand, that's why he sent it to me." "Ok, ok," groaned Lawrence, "let's have a look then, I'm sorry, I would really like to see it." Lawrence turned his head to one side and fluttered his eye lashes like a cat hoping for a treat. "Go on then, but only if you go straight back downstairs afterwards, you know the rules." Molly reluctantly handed the envelope to Lawrence, who hurriedly fumbled for the letter inside, before reading it out loud. "Ever in under," he paused, "is that it? three words? and it's written in a column like mine too." Molly grabbed the letter back, "just because it's simple, it doesn't mean it isn't beautiful!" She got up and put the letter in the small draw under her dressing table. "Ever in under, think about it, Grandad's under the ground forever, it's kind of haunting, maybe when you grow a brain you'll understand." Lawrence huffed, "whatever," then rushed back downstairs to watch telly.
YOU ARE READING
Flabberwocky
AventureEvery town has a weirdo. Some ungainly foul smelling soul you cross the street to avoid. But only Notchwood has a Flabberwocky. Dismissed by many as just a giant blob of flesh glued to mobility scooter, the truth is much more sinister. Her real name...