Free Fruit and Nutcase by Jean Ure

about that than all about what happened next in my life.
    I mean, I don’t
have
to talk about what happened next. If I really don’t want to. Nobody can make me.
    Except then perhaps they wouldn’t publish it. They would say, this girl is so boring, she is so happy all the time with her mum and dad. Why does nothing bad ever happen to her?
    So I suppose I had better do it.
    I suppose.
    All right! I’ll do it.
    I shall take a DEEP breath and open my mouth and just
talk.

    * Note from Cat’s mum:They’re called gargoyles.
    * Query from Cat’s mum: Does this stand for physically handicapped-able-bodied? Yes!

When Nan said I was to go and live with her, my heart just fell right down with a great thunk! on to the floor. I knew it wasn’t any use arguing. You can’t argue with Nan. Once she’s made up her mind, that’s it.
    But it was awful. It was really awful. Nan was all puckered and pursed, and Mum was just sobbing and sobbing, and then Dad comes home and says, “What’s going on?” and Nan tells him what’s happened, and how she’s taking me away “Until you two get your act together”, and Dad just goes mental. I mean, he just goes crashing and banging all about the place, and he’s smashing his fist on things and shouting, and Misery Guts is howling up the stairs, and Mum’s still sobbing, and Nan’s trying to get Dad to calm down and “Listen to a bit of sense, for goodness’ sake!” But Dad won’t. Not for ages.
    When at last he stops crashing and shouting,he grabs me and pulls me to him and says, “You can’t do this! You can’t take my Mand!”
    To which Nan retorts that if she doesn’t take me it’s only a matter of time before someone like old Misery Guts calls the Social Services.
    “And once they get their hands on her, you can kiss her goodbye. She’ll be sent to a children’s home or put with foster parents, and that’ll be that. And I wouldn’t blame them, either! This way, I’m giving you a chance. You get yourselves sorted, I might consider letting you have her back. But I’m not having my grandchild brought up in a pigsty just because her mum and dad are too stupid and irresponsible to look after her properly. So there!”
    There was a long silence after Nan said this. Dad went pale and even Mum stopped sobbing. Nan said, “Look at the place! Look at the state of it! You’re like children, the pair of you. Just playing at keeping house. Look at this!” She ran a finger along the top of the mantelpiece.
“Filth!”
    I said, “I was going to see to that,” but Nan turned on me, really sharp, and snapped, “It’s not up to you!” And Dad chimed in with, “That’s right.It’s not up to Mandy. It’s up to her mum!” He glared at Mum as he said it, and that set Mum off crying again, and to my complete amazement Nan snarled, “Don’t you try shifting all the blame on to Sandra! You’re no better. Useless great lummock!”
    I’d never known Nan turn on Dad before. It’s always been Mum she’s had a go at. But she was really mad. She kept on about “the Social” and how the shame of it would kill her. She said, “You’d just better pull your fingers out, the pair of you! Get this place cleaned up and start taking a few lessons in elementary housekeeping!”
    Dad looked rebellious and started muttering, but Mum wept and said, “We will, we will!”
    “Both of you,” said Nan. “That means you, lummock!”
    And she actually poked a finger right in the middle of Dad’s chest.

    Dad’s jaw dropped way, way down.
    I almost would have laughed, it looked so funny! But Mum was still sobbing, and there was my bag standing all packed and ready to go.

    And any minute now Nan was going to say, “Right! That’s it. Come along, Mandy,” and I just couldn’t bear it. I felt something hot and prickly happening in my eyes, and at first I couldn’t imagine what it was but then it was like seeing everything through a window that rain is dripping down and I knew that