Bad Blood

3.

Every Sunday I would take the train over to North London to see my Gran. I longed for our Sundays together. Whenever anything was bothering me, all I had to do was tell my Granny and she would make me know everything was going to be okay. I wanted to tell her about seeing Dan and find out what I was supposed to do.

She was growing so much more noticeably older with each visit. She was frailer and becoming a little less aware of the world around her. I knew the time was drawing closer that I would need to find a nursing home for her. I hated the thought, but I hated knowing she was here in this big house on her own even more.

But that smile on her face when I entered the house, each time, filled me with such happiness.

'You're skinny.' She would declare. Every time. 'Do you want me to cook up some extra meals to take back? Have you got enough money for food? Are you eating enough?'

'Gran, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.' I laughed.

'I don't like you living in that busy city, all the pollution from those cars and people with guns.'

'Its not like that, you've been to my house, its in a nice area. I've literally never seen a gun the whole time.'

I'd go around the house, making sure everything was ok and doing odd little jobs that maybe she couldn't quite do anymore. I'd make sure she had enough food in the house to last the rest of the week and then we'd cook dinner together. I'd been waiting for the right moment to come to bring up the whole Dan thing.

'Gracey dear, pass me that...that...' She clicked her fingers in the air trying to think of the word that had gotten lost somewhere between her head and her tongue. This was happening more often too. My Gran was the smartest person I'd ever known, but sometimes she forgot things. I couldn't pretend I didn't know what was going on. And it wasn't just old age.

'The bowl?' I suggested. We were making a cake for after dinner. Her famous lemon drizzle.

'Thats the one.' She chuckled to herself. I watched as she stirred the mixture, this smile on her face. This woman had been the only parent I'd ever known. And she had selflessly taken me in when there was no one else. I couldn't describe how much I loved her. She had spent the latter years of her life, when she should've been enjoying her retirement and relaxing, looking after me. And she had never once complained.

A little later after tea when we sat watching the recording of Countdown, which I had taught her how to do, without taking her eyes off the screen, she said suddenly, 'Wheres Daniel?' I stifled a shocked laugh. She had never mentioned him in eleven years. Which I had always been so grateful of. 'He's a lovely boy. And he's very lucky to have you. You two make a great couple.'

'What? He's not my boyfriend Gran, remember? We haven't spoken for a long time.'

'Oh, that's a shame. You two were very sweet together. Think as thieves you were.' And she continued watching her programme as if nothing had happened. And then I knew I couldn't ask for her help. I was on my own with this one.

I left Gran's that night feeling, once again, deflated. Why had he appeared back in my life? Why was he still ruling it? And why had Gran mentioned him so randomly? Did she have some sort of sixth sense? It certainly left me feeling spooked. I sat on the train, feeling as gloomy as the grey clouds that had gathered over London. I found myself subconsciously running my finger over the scar on my wrist and smiling. I remembered the day I'd got it. I remembered all of it.

******

I had never known my father. From as young as I could remember, it had always been Mum and I. She was my world. All I had ever known. There were no aunties or uncles, no grandparents, no neighbors or friends. Just me and Mum in our little one bed flat in north London. She worked a lot and I would stay on my own watching cartoons and eating crisps most days, before taking myself to bed and only really falling asleep once I'd heard her come home. It was how our life had been and I never knew of anything else. We didn't have much, but I knew I was loved.

Then one morning, she left, kissing me goodbye and telling me not to answer the door, as always. I remember it all so well. The smell of her perfume, the denim jacket she wore, the way her hair fell on her shoulders and her smile.

'Be good.' She ruffled my hair and locked the door.

She never came home that night. Or the next. I was starving and terrified. It could've been days or even a week before anyone noticed I was alone. They finally kicked open the front door after hours of persuading me to open it. But I was a good girl and I did as Mummy told me, 'don't open the door for anyone.'. I would never forget the policewoman's face when she found me underneath the covers of my mattress on the floor. A mixture of pity and despair as she looked around at the squalor that was my home. At just four years old I was told I would never see my mum again. I wasn't too sure what that had meant at the time. It wasn't until I was put in the back of the police car with only a small bag of clothes and my bunny bear, and we drove away, that I realised my life was changed.

We drove for hours. Or it could've been only minutes. But my four year old mind was so confused and lost. I was told I would be going to my Granny's house. I didn't even know I had a Granny. It had always been just me and Mum.

The house was big and old, nestled between new buildings and hidden behind thick, tall trees. There was a lady stood at the door. The policewoman opened the car door and helped me out. I held her hand, terrified. The old lady leant down as I approached her, timidly. She had a round kind face and her arms were out stretched. I didn't know this woman. I didn't know what was going on. But she took me in her embrace and I began to cry.

'Hello Gracey.' She whispered. 'I'm your Granny.'

She showed me around the house and to my room. The walls were bare and all it contained was a small bed, wardrobe and nightstand. Everything about the house was old and empty. It was nothing like where I'd come from, the mess and clutter and chaos. But here I felt strangely at peace, despite the days events. I felt...safe.

For the first time in what could've been weeks, I sat down and ate a meal. I'd watched the old lady, fascinated, as I sat at the table in the kitchen, as she turned various ingredients into this tasty dinner. I had no memory of my Mum ever cooking. The last thing I'd eaten had been a fish finger I'd found in the bottom of the freezer.

'Have you started school yet?' She asked me. I shook my head. 'Would you like to?' I nodded. I'd watched all the other children in our tower block go and return from school every day, with their uniforms and backpacks, from the front room window.

The only memory from the first day at my new school was meeting Daniel. I was sat next to him on the blue carpet in the story area, too scared to talk to anyone and he smiled at me and offered me one of his sweets. From that very first moment, we became inseparable.