Lizzie Zipmouth (6 page)

We were still enjoying our party when Sam came to fetch me home.

“Have you enjoyed yourself, Lizzie?” he asked.

I didn't say anything. Not to Sam. But I nodded so hard my head hurt. When I kissed Great-Gran goodbye on her powdery cheek I whispered, “Please can I come again?”

Chapter Six

I went to see Great-Gran almost every day. I always played with Alice and Sophie and Charlotte and Edward and Clementine. Sometimes we had dolls' tea parties. Sometimes Great-Gran and I had proper ladies' tea parties with big flowery cups and saucers and sandwiches and fairy cakes with pink icing and cherries. Great-Gran let me cut up my sandwich and cake to share with Alice and Sophie and Charlotte and Edward and Clementine.

Once Rory and Jake came too. Rory was polite to Great-Gran but he kept yawning and when he got home he ran all round the garden like crazy, leaping and whooping.

“It's great to be back! It's so b-o-r-i-n-g at Great-Gran's!” he yelled.

Sam said he could stick to Sunday visits.

“What about you, Jake?” said Sam.

“I don't know,” said Jake. “I don't like the dolls much. But I quite like the tea party. I might want to take all my Beanie Babies.”

I frowned. Jake didn't play with his Beanie Babies
properly
. He got all silly and excited and threw them in the air and made them have fights. I was sure they'd knock the teacups over. Great-Gran would put Alice and Sophie and Charlotte and Edward and Clementine back in their trunk sharpish.

Sam put his arm round Mum.

“I take it you're not into dolls and tea parties either?”

“No way! Though I'm ever so glad Lizzie gets on so well with your gran. I'm a bit scared of her!” said Mum, giggling.

“Don't worry, she terrifies me!” said Sam.

“She can be seriously scary,” said Rory.

“She's so frowny,” said Jake.

“Well, I like her,” I said.

They all looked at me.

“Lizzie spoke!” said Rory.

“Lizzie unzipped!” said Jake.

Mum and Sam were smiling all over their faces. I smiled back. Then I skipped into my bright bedroom to get my knitting. I was making a teeny blue scarf for Alice. Great-Gran had taught me how to knit. She taught Jake too. Jake said he was going to make thirteen rainbow-striped scarves, one for each of his Beanie Babies, but he'd only done five rows of the first scarf so far. I'd nearly finished mine, but I seemed to have dropped several stitches somewhere. I needed to see Great-Gran to ask her to fix it.

We were going to see her on Sunday, the whole family. But on Friday night there was a phone call. It woke me up. I heard Sam on the phone. He sounded very worried. When I peeped out of my bedroom I saw his face was crumpled up the way Jake looks when he's about to cry.

“Oh dear, Lizzie, something very sad has happened,” said Sam, coming up the stairs. He put his arm round me. “It's poor Great-Gran.”

“Is she dead?” I said, shivering.

“No, she's not dead, pet, but she's very ill. She's had a stroke. She can't walk or talk properly. She's in hospital. I'm going to see her now.”

“I'm coming too!”

“No, love, not now. It's much too late. Look, you're shivering. You hop into bed with Mum while I go to the hospital.”

Mum cuddled me close and told me to try to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I kept thinking of Great-Gran lying on her back in a hospital bed unable to walk or talk, just like one of the dolls in the trunk.

Chapter Seven

Sam stayed at the hospital most of Saturday. Mum took Rory and Jake and me to football. It was a great game and our team scored. Rory and Jake jumped up and down and yelled and then remembered and drooped back in their seats, looking guilty.

“It's OK, boys,” said Mum, putting her arms round them. “We can be sad about poor Great-Gran and happy about football too. Great-Gran wouldn't want you to stop enjoying the match.”

I looked at Mum. I knew Great-Gran much better than she did. Great-Gran thought football a waste of space. Great-Gran thought she was much more important than any football team in the world. She'd want Rory and Jake and me to be sitting quietly in our best clothes at home, worrying about her.

I
was
worrying.

“I want to see Great-Gran,” I said.

“I'm not sure they let young children into the hospital,” said Mum.

Rory and Jake breathed sighs of relief.

I cornered Sam when he came home that evening. He looked very tired and his eyes were red as if he might have been crying.

“I'll make you a cup of tea, Sam,” I said.

Sam looked very surprised.

“It's OK. I can make lovely tea. Great-Gran showed me how. And I hold the kettle ever so carefully so I can't scald myself.”

“You're a very clever girl, Lizzie,” said Sam. “OK, then, I'd love a cup of tea.”

I made it carefully all by myself. Mum hovered but I wouldn't let her help. I carried the cup of tea in to Sam without spilling a drop.

“This is delicious tea,” said Sam, sipping. “Thank you very much, Lizzie.”