Free Papa Georgio by Annie Murray

at the top of the world, a city in the clouds, with narrow, smoky streets, tiny temples and roofs shaped like yaks’ horns. On the streets there are men selling thick wool jackets and jumpers, and bowls of beaten silver. If things were different I should like to stay here, but we need to move on, to be closer to your Dad, to my lovely Peter. To say goodbye for him from us.
    Do you remember Dad telling you the story of ‘his’ mountain, of Kanchenjunga being the ‘Five Treasure Houses in the Snow?’ I’m sure you do. I shall go and see if I can see the gold and silver peaks and take photographs to show you. How Peter loved this mountain and always wanted to climb it. At least he got some of his wish.
    Dear Janey, I do hope you are all right, my strong, brave girl. I miss you very much and long to give you a big cuddle. In a few weeks I shall be able to do just that. In the meantime, Grandpa is so happy to have time to get to know you, even if he is too bashful to say so!
    Don’t worry about me. I’m not climbing, remember, only trekking and no further than base camp.
    Take care of yourself darling. Love to pops and Brenda and of course allmy love to you, poppet, from my little lodging room in Nepal.
    Mum xxxx
    Someone was crying. I could hear a funny sound in the dark, a mewling, and I imagined it was the little tabby cat before I woke properly and realized it was me. My face was wet and everything seemed to hurt, feelings from dreams I could now remember which left me washed full of sadness.
    There were movements in the caravan, someone pulling back the grey curtain.
    ‘What is it my little dear?’
    Grandpa’s voice was all gentleness but I couldn’t speak, only snuffle and cry as I felt him sit on the edge of the bed, making the covers pull tight, and scoop me up in his arms where it was all warm and my cheek was pressed against his soft old pyjama jacket. He smelt warm and comforting and he rocked me back and forth. I couldn’t stop crying – as if it was being squeezed out of me.
    ‘I know,’ he murmured, very softly, into my hair. ‘I know my dear. It’s terrible losing someone you love. It’s the worst thing that can happen to you. When I lost my first little wife I was in a dreadful state. And now my poor Elizabeth’s lost her husband – your Dad….’
    I felt his body lift and fall as he breathed in and then let the breath out in a long sigh. Then he kissed the top of my head and rocked me some more as the squeezing in my body stopped and I was quieter.
    ‘Well,’ he said at last. ‘We must all look after each other, mustn’t we?’
    I nodded against him. I felt sleepy again, and almost as if I was dreaming. Grandpa didn’t let go, not yet. He settled me on the bed and stayed close. I felt his hand gently patting my back and heard his rumbly voice singing very quietly.
    ‘ I’ll sing you a song of the fish in the sea …’ And even before he reached the line, ‘… and we’re bound for the Rio Grande ,’ I was a blink away from sleep.

Fizz Again
    I.
    LOG BOOK
    Well, I s’pose I’ll have to be all nice and upbeat, won’t I? Even though I hate Charlotte for that card – just a mingy rotten postcard! She couldn’t even be bothered to write me a proper letter after all this time when I’ve been writing to her over and over again in my head! And even if her card is full of Katy Harris and how marvellous she is at dancing and how obviously marvellous at moving in on my best friend as well . Charlotte didn’t once say she was missing me or cared that I wasn‘t there. The cow! She didn’t tell me about sports day when we usually run the relay together. It was Katy this, Katy that… I bet Katy ran in my place instead. I felt like writing and telling her she’s mean and horrible and I never want to see her again...
    Except I can’t. Because a) that’s not true and b) I don’t want her to know how much she’s hurt my feelings. Oh pride! But the maddening thing about Charlotte is,