Granny (14 page)

Naturally, Joe lost weight. He grew tall and muscular with broad, suntanned shoulders. Once a month, Rolf, Barry, Bruce, and Les took him with them to Mount Isa and he would stay up late into the night, drinking and gambling. That was the best thing. He was an equal. Nobody treated him like a child anymore.

News has a strange way of traveling in Australia, crossing huge distances without the help of a stamp or a telephone line. And the happiness of the Wardens was completed one day by the arrival of someone who had heard they were there and had decided to join them. As soon as he saw who it was, Joe understood everything: the strange figure he had seen at Paddington Station, the last-minute rescue at the hotel, and the anonymous postcard.

The new arrival was Mrs. Jinks.

“I thought I was doomed when the police dogs came after me,” she explained, “and indeed I was bitten quite badly. But I was very lucky. Just as I burst through the bushes, a large rabbit appeared. The dogs decided they preferred the taste of rabbit to me and attacked that instead. I managed to climb a tree and waited there until everyone had gone.”

“But you kept your eye on me after that, didn't you, Mrs. Jinks,” Joe said.

“Well, yes. I couldn't reveal myself, unfortunately—I was still wanted for robbery, after all. But I was frightened to leave you on your own, and when your granny came to look after you, I knew something was going on. I followed you to Bideford in disguise and I was there at the Stilton International when they tied you to that horrible device.”

“And it was you in the dark.” Joe shivered. “It was lucky the lights went out.”

“That wasn't luck at all. That was me. I turned the power off at the main fuse box and then crept onto the stage to untie you.”

“I got your card,” Joe said.

“Yes. I thought it was time your parents knew the truth. Of course I couldn't tell them myself. So I hoped a little nudge would do the trick.”

Mr. and Mrs. Warden were delighted to see Mrs. Jinks. They knew now that they had been deceived and couldn't apologize enough. They immediately invited her to stay with them at the cattle station and Joe was delighted when she agreed.

And so time passed at Anthony Lagoon, which was a very pretty place now, with a duck pond, a village green, two English sheepdogs, a willow tree, and a beautiful croquet lawn. Often, when the day's work was done, Mrs. Jinks would stroll out with Joe and they would talk about what had happened.

“Do you think she'll ever find us?” Joe asked one evening.

“Who, dearest?”

“Granny. The ghost of Granny.”

Mrs. Jinks looked past the verandah, where Mr. Warden was pushing Mrs. Warden on a swing, and beyond over the outback to the deep red glow where the setting sun marked the end of the world. “No,” she said. “I don't think so.”

“I hated her.” Joe shuddered. “Old people are horrible.”

“No,” Mrs. Jinks corrected him. “There's nothing wrong with being old. Don't forget—you'll be old one day. Nobody can avoid it.”

“Well, I won't be like Granny,” Joe said.

“Of course you won't,” Mrs. Jinks agreed. “If you're kind and cheerful when you're young, you'll be kind and cheerful when you're old… only more so. Old age is like a magnifying glass. It takes the best and the worst of you and magnifies them. Granny was selfish and cruel all her life. But you can't blame her for being old.”

“She could still find us here.” Joe's eyes—older and more knowing—scanned the horizon. He shivered in the cool evening breeze.

“It doesn't matter anymore,” Mrs. Jinks replied. “Even if she did find you . . . you're ready for her now.”

 

In fact, Granny died two years later—this time for real. After the Wardens had left, she had found there was nobody to look after her and had rapidly gone into a decline. This was her tragedy. All the spitefulness of her life had caught up with her and suddenly she was alone.

Her hair had never grown again after the accident, and although she had been given new false teeth, they didn't fit, with the result that she couldn't talk or eat solids. She was moved to an old people's home next to a cement factory and spent the next two years alone, sipping oatmeal through a straw. In an attempt to cheer her up, the matron of the home gave her a parrot. The parrot bit her. The wound became infected. And that was what finally finished her off.

That was a year ago.

But Granny is not forgotten. Deep in the heart of the Australian outback, the Aborigines gather around a huge campfire. Then the music of the didgeridoo throbs and wails through the darkness, and if the magic is working, a figure appears, wrapped in a thick coat against the desert chill. The Aborigines see her scowling in the light of the fire, her eyes glowing, her mouth opening and closing as she chews on her invisible feast. They call her “old-woman-walk-by-night.”

It is Granny. Looking for Joe.

But she hasn't found him yet.