"Where you going to in such a hurry?" Granny Grace held out her stick as I approached the cafe, halting me. Breathless and slightly panicked, I explained, "Dylan's trapped in number 13 Paddock Field, under a bed, and the tenants have returned."
She seemed totally unfazed and rolled her eyes, "You young uns are too impulsive for your own good. He should've stayed put at Petal Road, today." She gently tapped her stick on the floor, "He better stay under the bed, cos if they discover him they'll most likely kill him, or at least do him some serious injury," she said.
The blunt coldness of what she said chilled me and I instinctively grabbed my phone and went to dial Dylan, "HOLD UP SWEETHEART!" Exclaimed Grace, grabbing my wrist with a surprising strength, "Now that ain't clever is it? No sweetheart, you don't want to sign his death warrant by leading them to him, do ya?"
Her cold detachment bothered me, 'Get real Grace," I said, taking off again. But she grabbed me and yanked me back. Shock must have registered on my face, "Yeah, strong for an old bird, ain't I." Still holding onto my arm she said, "Don't you tell me to get real, it's you who needs to smell the coffee. You see a stranger crawling from under your bed, what you gonna do, offer him a cup a tea?" She let go of me, "No, you're more likely to smack his head in with a blunt instrument," she said, bashing the crystal head of her stick into her hand with a violent relish.
My fear for Dylan emphasised my feelings for him and I started to fluster, "I've got to go – try and help him – I'll think of something – I'll knock on the door – say he chased the cat in – something like that!"
Granny Grace remained coated in calm, "Ahhh, has a missing cat got something to do with this?" She asked.
"Yes. He heard a cat crying and went in."
She nodded, "I thought as much," she said.
I went to take off, but she yanked me back, again. Holding onto me, she took out her phone and dialled it. Putting it to her ear, she winked at me, "Let me deal with this, sweetheart."
Her face lit up and she stretched her toothless smile as she spoke into her phone, "Hello sunshine. Listen, we have a bit a bother at 13 Paddock Field. Young Dylan's gone in after a cat and he's trapped under a bed. Can you sort it before we have a situation?" I watched her face as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. She gave little nods of approval before saying, "I'll leave it in your capable hands Josh. Meanwhile, I'll saunter over there with Benita. Stay safe sunshine."
"Was that Joshua?" I asked.
"That's him, a ray of sunshine he is. He delivered you safe and sound last night. Don't know what we'd do without him, truly I don't; he's a very wealthy young man, and I mean financially and morally. Now come on sweetheart, let's get ourselves over there, in case he needs back up." She said, taking off down Camberwell High Street while checking her phone.
###
Granny Grace walked frustratingly slow, not helped by the fact that she stopped to continually check her phone. "I see Dylan logged the cream Josh gave ya. He was right to do that, but I've cleared it on the database. That bad bird in the pharmacy was trying to poison your bloodstream, but she didn't manage it. The itch is an allergic reaction to the metal of her ring, the cream will sort it," she explained, as she ambled along.
I looked at my hand, "What would've happened if she'd managed it?" I asked, applying more cream.
"You'd be brown bread."
"Dead?"
"That's right, sweetheart. Good job Josh was keeping his eye on you, he'd a pounced if he'd seen you develop the symptoms," she said.
