Free Sea Glass Summer by Dorothy Cannell

others,’ Twyla had said to Oliver with her arm around him after the medics left. ‘But your grandpa, he’s a man of faith. He knows the good Lord will watch over you both like he’s always done. I sure understand you not putting much store by that right this minute,’ Twyla always seemed to know what he was thinking, ‘but you will some day. For now just take a hold of every living moment that you and that good man are together in this house.’
    From that day onward the words ‘nursing home’ had hovered, mostly silently, even over the happiest times. At the end of school yesterday Oliver’s teacher had asked if he would be in class on Monday, and he’d told her that someone, he couldn’t bring himself to say his aunt or uncle, would drive him in.
    He wondered as he looked toward the full-length mirror if they would take one look at him and decide he was fat. The bullies he told Twyla about had called him ‘Fatty,’ among other names. Afterwards he’d tried to be honest, but had never been sure of the answer. The blue-green eyes looking back at him would display optimism one moment and pessimism the next. His cheeks were definitely round. Pudgy. There was no escaping that truth. Twyla said his face was fine, better than fine, and that there was nothing wrong with the rest of him either. He was big boned – that’s all there was to it. What was so great about being a stick anyhow? ‘You go right on doing like your grandpa tells you. Eating three good meals a day and when it comes to snacks make them healthy. I’ve yet to see you filling up on junk or not getting enough exercise. So you come right here, Mr Handsome, and give me a hug.’ Oliver had never known Twyla to tell a lie, but then she loved him, and people who love you always see the best. Gerard and Elizabeth didn’t love him.
    The mirror had belonged to his mother, Clare. And after today she was going to seem very far away, not close by the way Grandpa always talked. Gerard and Elizabeth couldn’t have loved Mom if they’d never bothered about him until now, when they’d got stuck and couldn’t wiggle out. Gerard had phoned last night to say they were at the Cully Mansion. Brian was right; the name did sound spooky. They would come to collect Oliver at nine in the morning. Grandpa said it didn’t have to be that early, but the time wasn’t changed. Probably, thought Oliver nastily, picking him up for Those Two would be like going to the dentist: best to get it over quickly so they didn’t have to keep thinking about it.
    Brian had offered the information that his Aunt Nellie, who at ninety had to know pretty much everything, thought Gerard and Elizabeth were a disgrace to the Cully name. If it were up to her the old lady that used to live there would come back to haunt them. This, Brian had added solemnly, explained the shadow he’d seen at the window that he was sure was a ghost. Oliver had thought it would be super great if Gerard and Elizabeth were driven screaming all the way back to New York, but was scared the old lady spook would be so much on Oliver’s side that she wouldn’t leave him alone, even in the bathroom. And, as Twyla had agreed with him, a boy of nine liked his privacy. There was no doubt about it: God had let him down real bad.
    The conversation with Brian had taken place in the playground during recess and, after a quick look around, Oliver had lowered his voice. ‘If it weren’t for letting Grandpa and Twyla down, I’d become an atheist.’
    â€˜Seriously, Ol? How do you spell it?’
    â€˜Don’t know.’
    â€˜Then that’s out. You can’t be something that you can’t spell.’
    Secretly relieved, Oliver said that in that case maybe he’d become a Mason. He didn’t know what a Mason was, except that its members had a secret handshake, which sounded satisfactorily