We Can Be Heroes (23 page)

Granny glances at Grandad, who just shrugs as if to say,
Of course I told him. What did you expect?

I glance at Jed, who has ducked down behind the
sofa to retrieve the elastic band. He emerges red-faced, pulling angrily on it.

‘I'm glad you didn't have to see that, son,' Uncle Ian says to Jed.

Jed just shrugs and pulls the band so tight it looks as if it'll break.

‘And I'm sorry you got hurt, Mum,' he says, turning to Granny. ‘Dad told me about the fall.'

‘Oh, it was nothing,' says Granny quickly. ‘And it was my own silly fault anyway.'

‘You have to remember that she's not well,' says Ian. ‘It's an illness. I'm not saying she can't help herself because she could go and get help and she won't, but she's sick – that's why she is how she is.'

‘And that's why the court won't let her see Jed?' asks Granny, offering him a biscuit.

‘That and the fact he doesn't want to,' says Uncle Ian, taking a biscuit and dropping it into his mouth whole. ‘The courts take into account kids' views these days, which is a good thing, if you ask me.'

‘So if he wanted to see her, he could?' asks Granny.

‘In theory, yes, but he doesn't, do you, son?'

‘No,' says Jed, colouring a little.

‘And what about you, Ian?' asks Granny. ‘What do you think?' She's looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

‘If it was down to me, he'd see her on a regular basis,' says Ian, helping himself to another biscuit. ‘But I'm not going to force the lad. It's his decision and I think we have to respect that.'

‘Of course,' says Granny, although she still sounds uncertain. ‘We have to respect his decision.'

‘Don't let her get to you, Granny,' says Jed. ‘She does that. She makes you feel sorry for her. You just have to ignore her. That's what I do.'

Granny looks at Jed and she seems really sad. ‘Is that what you do, love?' she asks.

‘The lad's right,' says Uncle Ian. ‘Don't let her get to you.'

‘I'll try not to,' says Granny.

Last night, after we went to bed, Gary called and talked to Granny for ages. She spoke in a soft voice, so that I couldn't make out what they were saying.

When we're eating breakfast, I try to ask her about it, but she just says, ‘It's nothing for you to worry about,' and then she stands up and starts clearing up the breakfast stuff.

I sit there, finishing my boiled egg. Granny and I are slow eaters – Granny because of her sore fingers and me because – well, just because. I'm always the last to finish and normally Granny sits with me long after Jed and Grandad have left and then we tidy away and wash up together. But today she doesn't wait for me, so I can tell something is wrong.

‘Jed's mum really misses him, doesn't she?' I say.

Granny stops what she's doing and looks at me. ‘I imagine she does, yes.'

‘Do
you
think she should be allowed to see him?' I ask.

After a moment, she says, ‘That's not for us to decide. We have courts and judges who are better placed to make those decisions.'

‘But you think he'd be happier if she was, don't you?'

She stands very still and she doesn't look away. ‘Possibly,' she says. ‘I don't know.'

‘I do,' I say.

Then I turn back round so I don't have to look at her as I ask my next question. ‘You still miss my dad, don't you?'

She stays very still as she answers. ‘Every day. Yes.'

‘Mums don't . . . forget . . . do they?' I say.

‘No,' she answers quietly. ‘No, they don't.'

And she stands there, waiting for another question, but I don't ask one so eventually she says, ‘Is there anything else you wanted to ask?'

‘No,' I say.

So I get on with eating my breakfast and she gets on with the washing-up and nothing more is said.

1. Why doesn't she like my mum? I once read somewhere that mothers never like the girls their sons marry because they take them away, but my dad's gone anyway. Does Granny blame my mum for him dying then? And if so, why? Or is it because my mum's got a new boyfriend? Or is it because she thinks my mum has forgotten about me?

2. If my dad was still alive and he split up from Mum, would she tell him that I should be allowed to see her?

3. I was going to say, does she ever visit my dad's grave, but he doesn't have a grave. I think his name may be on a plaque at Ground Zero but I'm not sure and anyway, I know she's never been to America because she doesn't like aeroplanes. (Is that because of what happened to Dad or was she always that way?)

4. Did she have a favourite child and who was it – my dad or Uncle Ian?

5. Did she like Auntie Karen before she split up with Uncle Ian?

6. Would she have let Auntie Karen in yesterday if Grandad hadn't been around?

7. What will she say if Uncle Ian finds out about her taking Jed to see Granny Brenda? (Priti says it's not
if
but
when
; she watches a lot of soap operas.)

8. If Uncle Ian is in the bomb squad, does she know about it?

9. Why does she let Grandad watch TV all the time and not do any of the cooking or cleaning, even though she's the one with bad hands?

10. Does she ever wish she had more grandchildren?

11. (I reckon I can have another one because No. 3 wasn't really a question.) Why won't she tell me what Gary said on the phone last night?

Shakeel and Ameenah are getting married today. It's the main wedding ceremony and then they have a big dinner and the newly wedded couple sit together for the first time, but they can only see each other through mirrors (according to Priti). We all watch
from the front window as Shakeel goes off in a big limo dressed like a prince from
Aladdin
. There aren't any drums or musicians though, or a horse for that matter. Priti says the groom has to arrive on an elephant or a horse with music and banging drums, but they're going in a car and meeting up with the music men nearer the venue because it would be too far for them to walk.

Priti looks weird wearing a sari and with her hair all neat and tidy. I half expect to see her wheelie shoes peeping out from the bottom of the folds of silk. She sees us watching from the window and waves wildly till her mum tells her to stop and get in the car.

‘I never thought I'd live to see the day!' says Grandad, who's watching with us from the sitting-room window.

‘Nor should you have to, Dad. Nor should you have to!' says Uncle Ian, who stayed the night and is now sitting in Grandad's chair, reading the newspaper and refusing to watch. ‘We're in Birmingham, not Bombay.'

I take out my notebook. I've started a new Bomb-busters
strip with Jed-eye, Ben-D and Lil' Priti hunting down the person who attacked Lil' Priti's cousin. I draw Priti in her tutu skirt and an oversize pair of wheelies, karate-kicking a skinhead on a giant motorbike.

Grandad tells Uncle Ian about the party that's going to happen tomorrow in the road.

‘You gonna have a load of Muslims throwing a party in the cul-de-sac?' says Uncle Ian.

‘It's some kind of thing they do,' Grandad says. ‘A custom or whatever.'

‘To build a bond between the two families,' adds Granny.

‘And they've got to take over the road to do that?'

‘They want to extend their hospitality to all their neighbours,' says Granny.

‘They don't do things by halves,' says Grandad. ‘Pre-wedding parties. Post-wedding parties. Must be costing a fortune.'

‘Who do they think they are?' asks Uncle Ian. ‘Lords of the manor throwing a party for all the poor white locals?'

‘It's tradition,' says Granny. ‘I'm actually quite looking forward to it!'

‘Maybe it's tradition where they come from, but not round here it's not. They want to be British, they should do things like the Brits. What's wrong with a white dress and a knees-up at a posh hotel?'

‘I rather like all the colourful dresses,' says Granny. ‘And the food is supposed to be wonderful at an Indian wedding.'

‘That's as may be, but let's not forget one thing,' says Uncle Ian. ‘Those people killed your son.'

I stop drawing. Granny goes pale and her hands flutter by her side.

‘So before you get all “love thy neighbour”, just remember they are the people who flew aeroplanes into tower blocks, yeah?' he goes on.

I see paper aeroplanes, tumbling towers of bricks, men falling like leaves.

‘And all so they can eat curry on their wedding day and wear bleedin' red saris. Heaven forbid their daughters should wear a white meringue like English girls. They make no effort to fit in with the traditions
of the country that keeps them in silks and spices and you're happy to let them take over the street you live in and fill it with the stench of Bombay spice!'

Granny looks really upset. ‘The Muhammeds weren't responsible for what happened to Andrew,' she says quietly, holding her hands still now.

‘You can think that if you like,' says Uncle Ian. ‘But from where I'm sitting every Muslim in the world is accountable for what happened to my brother.'

‘It's only one day,' says Granny, who has turned away from the window now and looks close to tears.

‘It's the thin end of the wedge,' says Uncle Ian.

‘That's enough, Ian,' says Grandad. ‘You're upsetting your mother.' It's the first time I've ever seen anyone stand up to Uncle Ian and by the look on his face, I don't think he likes it one bit.

But he doesn't say a word.

Uncle Ian takes Jed with him to meet his bomb-squad buddies. Granny thinks they're going tenpin bowling. Grandad is watching some chat show with lie-detector tests.

Granny suggests we have a special mid-morning hot chocolate. She looks tired, so I make the hot chocolate while she sits at the table.

‘I've found you another photo of your dad when he was about your age,' she says, reaching into her cardigan pocket then passing me an envelope which I don't open. ‘You do look awfully like him.'

‘Thanks,' I say. I place the mugs of hot chocolate on the table, sit down and look at the envelope. I don't open it.

‘I've been giving some thought to the other things too,' she says. ‘The things on your list that you wanted to know about your dad. I can help you with them if you want. Do you?' Without her make-up on she looks more like an old lady than usual.

I nod.

‘Then let me see,' she says, taking my list out of her pocket and unfolding it in front of her. Then she takes out another piece of paper on which she's written some notes.

‘Who was his favourite
Star Wars
character?' she reads then looks up and smiles, although her eyes look
a bit teary. ‘I had a think about this one and was there a chap with a dark helmet who breathed a bit funny? Darth something? Wait there, I've written it down. Your grandfather reminded me.'

‘Darth Vader?' I say.

‘That's the one. I think he was the one your dad liked most.'

I imagine Darth Vader lifting off his helmet to reveal my dad's smiling face.

‘So he liked the Dark Side too!'

‘I think all little boys do,' says Granny, ‘for a while anyway.' Then she peers at the paper again (she has reading glasses, but she refuses to wear them). ‘Now the football one was a bit easier because I know he always got so excited when England were playing. I remember him and your grandfather watching one match where England beat Germany by five goals to something.'

‘Five–one,' I say. ‘World Cup Qualifier. Summer 2001.'

‘That was the one!' she says. ‘Your dad got so excited, even Grandad got into the spirit of it. Andrew
used to say he was an England supporter before anything else.'

‘Me too!' I say.

‘Well, there you go then.' She pauses, seems to think of something. ‘That match must have been only a week or two before he died. I never thought about that before.'

Then she is quiet for a moment and I look at my mug of hot chocolate, so that I won't have to see if she starts to cry.

Then she coughs and says, ‘Now I'm afraid I can't tell you who he thought was the best ever Sports Personality of the Year, but I did find this.' She passes me a plastic bag. Inside is a glossy book of photos called
British Sporting Heroes
. ‘Your father was very fond of this book,' says Granny. ‘I thought perhaps you might like it? Maybe you can tell which were his favourites by seeing which page it falls open on.'

I smile and run my hands over the pages, thinking of my dad's hands doing the same.

‘As for the other things . . .' She peers at the list
again. ‘I know he and Ian used to like making little bonfires, but I think they used matches.'