Free No Going Back by ALEX GUTTERIDGE Page B

that he was only pretending to be asleep?
    â€œWhat on earth is that row?” he asked, stretching and yawning.
    â€œIt’s Gran,” I replied.
    â€œWhat’s got into the old bat now?”
    â€œI don’t know but I do wish you wouldn’t talk about her like that.”
    I flew downstairs to see an ashen-facedMum flinging open the door to Gran’s room.
    â€œWhat is it? What’s the matter?”
    â€œThis!” Gran pointed at the photograph. “Who put that there?”
    Mum raked her hair back from her face, clasped her hand to her chest.
    â€œI don’t know. Is that it? Is that what all the commotion was about?” Mum was shaking. “I thought something awful had happened.”
    Even my heart was hammering but then I spotted Dad in the hall, grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œWhat have you been up to?” I mouthed. “Was that you?”
    He slapped a hand over his mouth but it didn’t stop him looking guilty. That was the first time I felt really cross with him, disappointed too that he thought it was funny to scare an old woman half to death. But it didn’t last long. I forgave him in a matter of seconds. After all, Gran had never liked him and she hadn’t exactly welcomed him into the family from what Dad said. If he wanted to get his own back in a small way it was understandable. Even when Gran laid into me a few seconds later I couldn’t really holda grudge against him.
    â€œIt was you, wasn’t it?” she accused, her eyes glassy with tears. “It’s your silly idea of a joke, putting that man’s photograph next to my bed.”
    â€œNo,” I protested but I could see that she didn’t believe me. Neither did Mum.
    â€œWell who was it then?” Gran said, spitting the words out. “It has to be you.”
    â€œLaura?” Mum was glaring at me.
    I threw my hands up in despair. I mean Gran had a point. If I’d been in her position I’d probably have come to the same conclusion. The truth was just too unbelievable.
    â€œThat wasn’t funny,” I said to Dad later that day as we walked down to the village shop for a couple of lemons. Gran had to have a slice of lemon for her gin and tonic or the world would come to an end. “She could have had a heart attack.”
    â€œNot her,” Dad said, “she’s as strong as an ox. Anyway it was just a photo. I haven’t actually metamorphosed right in front of her so that she can see me or anything like that.”
    I looked at him in horror. “I thought you saidthat you weren’t sure you could do that?”
    He shrugged. “I’m not but I could give it a go. Even with people like your Gran, who don’t believe in ghosts, it might work. It would be an interesting experiment.”
    â€œNo!” I held up my hand. He stopped walking. “You mustn’t do it. You’ve had your bit of fun but leave her alone now or you’ll get us both into trouble.”
    He shrugged. “If you like.”
    But he looked a bit sulky and I felt bad that he’d only been here for a couple of days and already I was telling him off.
    â€œDad,” I asked later as we took the long way through the fields back to the farm, “why does Gran dislike you so much?”
    I threw the lemon into the air and ran forwards to catch it.
    â€œNo idea,” Dad replied.
    He shifted his eyes to the side momentarily and obviously caught sight of my dubious expression.
    â€œI haven’t. Cross my heart and hope to die. Well obviously I am dead – but you know what I mean.”
    I threw the lemon higher and higher. Some cowslooked up curiously.
    â€œYou must have some idea.”
    The lemon slipped straight through my fingers and fell to the ground. It landed with a splat right in the middle of a brand new steaming cowpat.
    â€œUrgh! Now look what you’ve done,” Dad said, almost seeming relieved at an