Falling Over (10 page)

The young waiter stepped forward, and Vince saw an odd thing: although his grandma was still angry, she quavered and shrank back.

“This is in
no
one’s best interests!” the waiter said loudly, as if to the room.

He speaks like someone older, Vince thought.

“Remember what this is; remember what you
agreed
to! There are no questions here, and no moral high-ground!” The waiter took Vince’s grandma by the arm and escorted her back to their table surprisingly firmly; she looked shame-faced but still angry.

“Don’t get too friendly with that girl,” she said to Vince as she sat down, wincing, and she barely spoke for the rest of breakfast.

~

It was all very odd.

They were going on a trip that day, to visit some local tower from the top of which you could see ten counties or more – Vince was excited by the idea, and to be leaving the dusty old hotel and the small village that they’d already exhausted. He rushed to get ready, and was waiting in the hotel lobby for his grandparents, kicking his heels against the legs of the bench he was sitting on. He was hidden by a rack of leaflets and tourist maps; he didn’t think the man behind the desk could see him. It was the same boy who’d been their waiter; his bland face not marked by the boredom he must be feeling. Did he spend
all
his time here? Vince had yet to see any other staff in the hotel at all.

The lift doors opened and two old ladies came slowly out, and hesitated as if nervous to approach the desk. They didn’t look in Vince’s direction, and seemed unaware of his presence. They looked identical to each other, and both wore the same thick coats and old-fashioned hats, although only one was carrying luggage. They must be checking out, Vince thought.

“Well...,” one said quietly.

“Well...,” the other said. “I guess it’s time...”

“Yes,” the first said, but they still didn’t move. They weren’t looking at each other as they spoke, but staring at the check-out desk. The boy must have noticed, but he busied himself with the pretence of tidying.

“Was it... worth it?” one of them said. Vince saw her reach out to take her sister’s hand. They both looked on the verge of tears – old people are so weird! Vince thought.

“Oh yes!” the other said, smiling through her tears. “Oh yes... of course!” Smiling through her tears; like Comedy, Vince thought. For some reason he thought the old woman wasn’t quite telling the truth, although he had no idea what they were talking about. He saw she was repeatedly squeezing her sister’s hand.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to go on
without
you,” the other said doubtfully. “So as long as it was worth...”

“I won’t be long behind you,” the other said quickly. “Not with
this
.” She gestured vaguely at her belly and grimaced.

The boy behind the desk cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed. “Your taxi is here,” he said.

The two women looked at each other. “Be brave,” they both said to each other in the same tone, and then they smiled – genuine smiles this time, Vince thought. They embraced, and then without a word one them walked towards the hotel doors. So that’s why all the tears, Vince thought, only one of them is going now. The sister who was leaving was struggling with her case; Vince noticed it wasn’t shut properly, and something black and shimmery fell out. Vince couldn’t tell what it was from where he was sitting, and didn’t want to reveal his presence.

The lady who was left took a deep breath, shuddery with age. The smooth-faced boy came out from behind the desk to her. His face was shiny under the lights with the ointment he used. He briefly laid a hand on the old lady’s shoulder – Vince couldn’t tell if the mark it left was oily or dusty. He led her towards the wooden door at the back of the reception, the one with the carved faces.

“It’s time,” he said in a quiet voice.

The woman looked calmer now, resigned to something. The boy opened the wooden door and gestured her forward – ladies first. Why can’t she just pay at the desk, Vince wondered. From where he was sat he couldn’t see what was on the other side of the door. The old lady hesitated before entering.

“We both believe,” she said, her voice still weak. “So I’ll see her again...”

The boy was standing behind her, his hand on the base of her spine. Now he thought he was unobserved, the boy’s blank, polite face cracked with an eager, almost mocking grin.

“Let’s see,” he said, and gently pushed her inside. He followed and shut the door behind them.

There was no noise, and they didn’t come out again.

Eventually, bored, Vince scuttled forward. He picked up the object which had fallen from the first lady’s case – he knew what he was doing was wrong, for without knowing what the soft, shiny black thing was he knew it was something
adult
, something rude even. But there was something nice about the way it felt, and he stuffed it guiltily into his pocket when he heard the lift doors open again.

“Come along then,” his grandma said, as if
he
were the one who was late, “we haven’t got all day.” She shivered, and looked round the deserted lobby.

“Where are we going? Who is
he
?” his granddad said, and Vince realised with a shock his grandma was holding back tears. What was it about all the old people crying in this place?

~

“Where’d you get that?” Alice said.

Vince started guiltily, tried to hide the thing in his hands.

“It fell out a lady’s suitcase,” he said reluctantly.

The trip to the tower had not been a success – as soon as they’d started out from the hotel it had started to rain, and at the coach stop the three of them had all tried to huddle under his grandma’s umbrella. And when they’d finally got to the tower they’d found out there was no way up it other than a narrow spiral staircase which neither of Vince’s grandparents could manage. So he’d climbed it alone, the worn dusty steps seemingly too narrow even for his small feet, clutching the rope banister all the way up. And when he’d reached the top the day was so overcast and foggy he’d barely been able to see the county he was in, let alone all the other ones that were supposed to be visible. He’d been able to see his grandparents though, small figures waiting at the exit gate – his granddad kept trying to walk off and his grandma kept holding his arm to stop him doing so. Then he’d seen her convulse silently, hunch her shoulders – the first sneeze. All the way back on the coach she’d kept sneezing, glaring balefully at anyone who dared offer her a sympathetic glance. She’d gone straight to her room as soon they’d got back to the hotel, telling the fresh-faced boy behind the desk that she’d be better by the evening (although Vince didn’t understand why
he
needed to know). His granddad had gone to their room too, and Vince was left to mope around the hotel, for the rain had turned torrential outside.

Alice sat down next to him on the bench. “You know what it
is
don’t you?” she said. “It’s a stocking.”

Vince hadn’t known the word, but nodded. He knew it was like half his mother’s tights, but softer, prettier – naughty somehow, rather than practical.

“I didn’t think all these old biddies still wore things like...
that
,” Alice said, frowning. “This place is weird. I’m glad we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Vince felt faintly uneasy as he remembered the two old sisters he’d seen checking out that morning, but he didn’t know how to articulate that unease to Alice. Didn’t want, either, to admit to her that the whole hotel unnerved him slightly. He realised he was sitting so close to Alice that he could hold her hand, if he wanted to. He didn’t know if he wanted to or not. He started to blush and felt angry with himself.

They told each other their birthdays; as he’d thought Alice was older than he was. They told each other where they lived, although neither lived in a place the other had heard of. They moaned about the boring hotel and village, which were both full of old people. They giggled about the way their grandparents smelt so musty, about their wrinkled hands reaching out blindly, about wrinkled old lips puckering up for a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s not
really
my grandma you know,” Alice said.

“What do you mean?”

“After
my
mum died my dad got married again,” Alice said neutrally. “And then
she
died. But
her
mum, she still keeps coming round, and makes me call her Granny. I haven’t got any real granny so I suppose it’s alright. But I didn’t want to come on holiday with her.”

There were lots of different ways to respond to all of that and Vince didn’t know which was best, so he grunted and kicked his legs against the bench. “I didn’t want to come with mine,” he said, although that wasn’t strictly speaking true.

“Have you noticed you’re the only people here where there are more than two of you?” Alice said and then counted on her fingers, “you, your granny, your grandda. Everyone else, there’s just two of them. Weird.”

“Weird,” Vince said.

“Listen I’ve got to go,” Alice said. “My granny makes me wash and change before dinner. I don’t know why, we never go out. She’s not my real granny,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “Listen, if the music starts tonight will you meet me down here again?” She gestured around the empty lobby. “It’s spooky on your own.”

Vince nodded; she briefly squeezed his hand before she stood and ran clattering up the hotel stairs.

~

Vince paced his hotel room, feeling pent up and agitated. The sound of the rain against the window, and of the clock ticking, fought from either side of the room to annoy him. There was nothing to do in this stupid room, and it was cold too. He kept screwing up his nose as if to sneeze, but never doing so; maybe he’d caught what his grandma had. Bored, he pushed against the connecting door between his room and his grandparents’ and was surprised when it gave – they’d obviously forgot to lock it their side. As soon as it had opened a fraction he could hear snoring – his grandfather’s loud but somehow comforting snores, and his grandma’s sniffy little ones, expressing disapproval even as she slept.

Cautiously, knowing he was doing wrong, Vince tiptoed in. The room was a larger version of his own. He was surprised that they had two separate beds, not a double like his parents. There was a clock ticking in this room too, but not in synch with his own (which he could still hear through the open door) so that the combined seconds of the two seemed to be passing double-time. There was a whole host of bottles of pills and medicines on the top of one chest of drawers, a leaflet called
Palliative Care: The Facts
– Vince didn’t know what that was – and a box of earplugs. The rain beat against the window with a fresh burst of vigour, so that the room was surprisingly noisy: the rain; the snores; the ticking seconds.

Not knowing why he was being so reckless, Vince opened one of the drawers – some musty smelling clothes, a dusty Bible. He shut it, opened a few other drawers, found nothing exciting. This is supposed to be a
holiday!
he thought. The sound of snoring hadn’t even paused, so he listlessly opened one of the two wooden wardrobes.

These clothes didn’t smell musty – there were long, luxurious looking dresses hung up, green and blue and gold. They were obviously old but well cared for. Vince didn’t understand fashion or know much history, but he had the idea that these dresses were from when his granny (as Alice said) had been young, and she’d obviously treasured them all these years. But why bring them on holiday to this crummy dump? There were shoes neatly aligned below the dresses, and on a shelf to the side the brooch he’d seen her wearing the other day, and a pearl necklace. There were some shawls too, and Vince reached out to touch one – its smooth feel reminded him of the stocking he still had screwed up in his pocket.

Thinking about the stocking made him feel guilty, and
then
he felt guilty about snooping too. Just then his granny made a phlegmy sound as she snored, and turned her head restlessly. Quickly, Vince closed the wardrobe and hurried to his own room, shutting the connecting door gently behind him.

The rain died.

And so, unlike Alice and her granny, Vince and his grandparents did leave the hotel to eat that night – there was a fish and chip ‘restaurant’ on the open green where they could eat outside. The portions were huge and Vince and his granddad threw greasy scraps to the pigeons and jackdaws until his grandma told them to stop. But she didn’t put as much force into it as she normally would; indeed she seemed distracted and fidgety, as if their meal was just a thing to be endured until something exciting came along, rather than the highlight of an evening where they’d go to bed before it was even fully dark.

“Still five nights to go,” his grandma said, “and this one too of course.” She smiled but was obviously thinking of somewhere else, for her smile didn’t include Vince or his granddad. She seemed to realise she was being inattentive, for she suddenly smiled brightly at Vince. “Are you enjoying your holiday with your Grandma and Granddad?” she said.

“Yes Grandma,” said Vince politely; then, because something more seemed to be required of him, “Maybe we could go on holiday together next year.”

“Oh I should think so,” his granddad said through a mouthful of chips.

“Vince I don’t think...” his grandma said simultaneously. She frowned, looked at her hands. She had hardly eaten anything, Vince noticed, as if she were nervous or excited about something. “People the same age as your granddad and I... Well, things can happen suddenly. That’s why I wanted to have this holiday
now
, just the three of us.”

“Stop your prattle,” his grandfather said, “I’m as fit as a fiddle. Of course the boy can come away with us again. Who did you say he was?”

Later they walked back by the river, where gnats hung like a shimmer across the path. Vince’s grandfather told him gnats only lived for twenty-four hours, but Vince didn’t know whether to believe him. “So they have to make hay while they can,” his granddad said with a smile that somehow made what he’d said rude, although it wasn’t (it didn’t make
any
sense to Vince). He’d expected his grandma to be annoyed again, but she just said “Amen” under her breath, and only Vince heard.