Gramps and the Shield Bugs

By Louise Peregrina

A shy young carer’s life is transformed when she is sent away to the country – and through her bravery and quick thinking becomes the unlikely village heroine.
 
Caz is fed up. Life has been tough since Dad left. Why does she always have to do everything? What is wrong with Mum? Why is her brother always so angry? 
 
When Mum is rushed into hospital she is packed off to stay in a cluttered cottage in the country with her grandfather, who she barely knows. What sort of man is he?
 
Despite her initial misgivings, Caz gets used to his old-fashioned ways and settles into the slower pace of village life, even having an exciting adventure along the way. The two form a close relationship; her trust and confidence builds as she learns about the natural world around her, while he learns a thing or two about the pressures of growing up in the modern world. 
 
In this emotional and ultimately uplifting story of family relationships, we see how older and younger generations can learn from each other. In just a week, life can begin to look a whole lot better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jul 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781803139685

Louise Peregrina

Brought up in Folkestone, Louise Peregrina spent most of her life working as an Education Welfare Officer, School Counsellor and Children’s Advocate. Now retired she can concentrate on doing all the things she didn’t have time for before and has taken up writing, painting, singing and jive. She has seven grandchildren.

Book preview

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Copyright © 2022 Louise Peregrina

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Matador

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Twitter: @matadorbooks

ISBN 978 1803139 685

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Acknowledgements

For their words of wisdom…

Nick Argent, Penny Ffoulkes, Nick Fudge, Fiona Gilbert, Trevor Greening, Annette Harker, Peter Kennett, Sue Kennett, Richard Leveson, Fanny Richmond, Simon Smith, Dave Stone, June Stone and especially Peter Harper.

For their hopes and dreams…

Sophie Burns, Amelia Church, Isobella Church, Millie-Rose Dale, Esme Gerbino, Josy Gerbino, Lois Gerbino, Joshua Kennett, Catalina King, Dan Lundie, Bobby Maytum, Dan Maytum, Darcey Saxby.

For proof reading…

Shelley Peregrina

For the cover illustration…

Katie Bradley

For the inspiration…

Bella, Mims, Catalina, Pippy, Diego, Keiran and Ivanka.

Poem – ‘Leisure’ by W H Davies

This book is dedicated to

Isobella, Amelia, Catalina, Diego,

Lucia, Keiran and Ivanka

Chapter 1

When you think about it, a week’s not very long, is it? And mostly, one week runs into the next week without much happening, just the same old stuff. Sometimes something different will happen but, seriously, you don’t often get a week like this week! So much has happened that it’s hard to take it all in. The most surprising thing I’ve learned from it is that families aren’t so bad, after all. Oh, and also, how much I can cry. Usually I don’t cry at all, but these past few days… I would never have believed there were so many tears in me. Even now my eyes are wet, but this time it’s for a good reason.

I think Adam’s dozed off, because his head is rolling around in the car seat and he’s dropped his precious box, which he wouldn’t have let go of otherwise. He hasn’t understood much of what’s been going on, he never does really, just gets on with things in his own, funny little way. But I know more now, and knowing helps. If only adults would tell you stuff in the first place!

Benny seems happy too, sitting up front with Auntie Jackie, both of them singing along to an old CD. That’s not like him. I’m actually looking forward to going home. If anybody had told me that last Sunday, I would have thought they were mad, because last Sunday was when the crying started. And the reason it started was because of Benny, who was in a bad mood as usual.

Sunday Afternoon

I am scrambling down the hillside, sliding on the withered grass, with the dry, loose earth falling away beneath my feet and calling to him.

Benny! Benny, wait up! Benny! I call out, but he keeps walking. The summer holidays have only just begun but it’s been hot since the beginning of spring and I am thirsty and the sun is burning my arms. Grandpa James has just said that the gardens are ‘crying out for water’. He says things like that, and I am wondering what a crying garden would actually sound like when Benny reaches the bottom of the slope and strides off along the track towards the main road. I’m doing my best to catch up with him. We’re taking the short cut home from Grandpa James’ flat to save time, but it’s not easy for me, and he doesn’t seem to realise that I can’t go as fast as him.

Benny! He makes me so angry that sometimes I hate him. He doesn’t care about me so why should I care about him? Mum got annoyed with me when I said that to her, told me not to be so silly; I can’t hate him because he’s my brother and you can’t hate your brother. But what does she know? She hasn’t got a brother.

I’m at the bottom of the hill when I stumble and fall over on to my knees. I can’t help the cry that escapes from my lips, it just comes out. Benny is looking back over his shoulder and watching me from a distance, waiting to see what I’m going to do next. I brush the dirt off my right knee which is grazed and bleeding. It doesn’t hurt too much but for some reason this is when the crying starts. Perhaps it’s the heat or perhaps it’s just frustration but I can feel the tears welling up inside me. Benny is walking back towards me looking irritated, as if I am holding him up on purpose; like I meant to fall over, when it’s all his fault. If he hadn’t been going so fast, I wouldn’t have. His expression is the last straw.

I hear a noise, a long loud wail, and I realise it is coming from me, and then, spilling out like a river bursting its banks, come the tears and this uncontrollable, unstoppable sobbing. I can’t remember ever crying like this before. Honestly, it’s not like me, but at least it gets his attention. His expression changes to concern as he hurries up to reach me.

Are you okay? What happened? I can barely hear him above the noise of my sobs, let alone answer him. He bends down and looks at my leg. Oh, is that all? he says, dismissively, standing back up and looking annoyed again. He makes me so mad I cry even harder.

Is he serious? Of course ‘that’ isn’t all, ‘that’ is just a grazed knee. He knows I wouldn’t make this much noise just for a grazed knee. It’s everything else, and the grazed knee that’s the problem. He should know, he’s been living in the same house as me this past year. He knows how horrible everything is. Sometimes I think my real life stopped last year, and some nasty, evil force has taken over, catapulting me into this one. This has to be somebody else’s life; I absolutely refuse to own it. I don’t seem to count in this new life; nobody ever tells me anything and I’m not supposed to ask questions. If I do Mum just says ‘everything is going to be fine’. They’re only empty words though, from our empty Mum. If I try and say that things don’t feel fine, it makes her cry.

Benny bends down and takes another look. It’s not serious, he says, it’s hardly bleeding at all. He fumbles in his pocket and brings out a disgusting, disintegrating tissue. Here, wipe it with this.

Why would he think I would want to put that anywhere near any part of my body? It must have been in his pocket for ages and, more importantly, what has it already been used for? I shake my head and wave it away and instead stretch the bottom of my T shirt over my knee and use it to dab at the already drying blood. I lift up my arms and try to dry off my face on the sleeves of my T shirt but it’s pointless, the tears keep coming.

Benny sits down next to me looking fed up and uncomfortable. He’s 14 so you would expect that by now he would know what to do in most situations, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t seen me like this before. He hadn’t wanted to take me with him in the first place but Mum insisted I went with him to pick up Grandpa James’ prescription, as she had to take Adam to buy some new shoes. It seems she can’t cope with more than one of us at a time anymore. But now I am making him late. It is nearly 5 o’clock and 5 o’clock is the time that he has arranged to meet his friends for a kick about on Ginger’s Pitch, which is a sort of small green space behind the flat where we live. Benny loves his football, perhaps more than anything, and here we are, not moving, not getting anywhere, although the crying is getting quieter now.

Doesn’t it matter to you? I say, eventually. Benny looks surprised.

Doesn’t what matter? he asks.

As I can’t think how to put into words all that is upsetting me, I just say, Everything.

Right, everything. Like I’m supposed to know what that means. He’s getting cross now. Can you walk, can we go now?

See! See what I mean! My eyes are filling up again. Nobody ever listens to me.

Yeah, well nobody ever listens to me either, he replies.

My sobs get louder again and his tone softens a little.

Look, he says, yeah, it matters. You think I don’t miss Dad too? You think I don’t wish it had never happened? But it has and there’s nothing we can do about it so crying’s not going to help, is it. He stands up and holds out his hand to help me up. I look up at him and notice for the first time why it is that some of my friends have been getting a bit giggly around him lately. He’s had a growth spurt this year and with those green eyes and dark hair he’s actually becoming… I find this hard to admit because it’s Benny but… quite handsome. Who would have believed that my brother would be handsome? He’s growing up. He still seems to delight in annoying me though, so he’s not what you could call mature. I wish I could accept things and carry on with life like he does. Maybe he’s been told more than me about things, like what is wrong with Mum. She’s not the same as she used to be. I’m going to be eleven next week and I’m fed up with not being told anything. I have to work everything out for myself. Just because Benny is older and everybody calls him ‘the clever one’, doesn’t mean that I don’t count.

I let him pull me up. Look, he says again. I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say or not supposed to say. Nobody wants you to know anything because you’re just a kid and I’ll get into trouble if I say the wrong thing. Talk to somebody else, I don’t know, Auntie Jackie or Grandpa James? Or you could try phoning Nana and Gramps, they might talk to you. That’s if they even know what’s going on themselves. But don’t ask Mum any more questions, it only starts her off.

I try hard to stop crying as we walk along the track but I can’t help sniffing and gulping in air and making those funny little sobbing noises as I think about what Benny said. I can’t see how Auntie Jackie would be the right sort of person to ask about Mum. She might be Dad’s older sister but at 36 she’s not married and doesn’t have any children of her own, so what would she know about anything? And anyway, just because she’s got a good job, she seems to think she’s entitled to boss us all around. She comes into the flat like a whirlwind, picking up bits and pieces and stuffing them into drawers as she nags at Mum to ‘pull herself together’, telling her ‘it’s time to move on’. Not much chance of that. Mum’s got worse over the last few weeks, all the fight’s gone out of her and she hardly says a word as Auntie Jackie tidies around her; she just stares down at her cup of coffee and lets herself be nagged.

As for Grandpa James, I know Benny gets on well with him but I find him a little bit, not exactly scary… intimidating, is that the right word? I know he’s Mum’s dad but he was a Headmaster and sometimes he makes me feel more like a pupil than a granddaughter. Maybe he would understand girls better if my grandmother was still alive but she died before I was born. I was named Caroline after her, although he’s the only one who ever calls me that. Everyone else calls me Caz. He tries to be helpful and I can always get advice from him about school and stuff but he’s not the sort of person that you could ask important questions to.

I can’t imagine why Benny even suggested Nana and Gramps. They wouldn’t be any use at all. I hardly even know them. They send birthday and Christmas cards but that’s about the only contact we have now, I can’t remember the last time I saw them. And anyway, they live miles away, in the country, still in the cottage that Dad and Auntie Jackie grew up in, so how would they have a clue about what is going on with Mum? We did go there once, when I was quite young, but we didn’t stay long. Nana and Gramps visited our flat a few times, as well, but haven’t been for ages now. When I asked Mum why, she said it was because neither of them like driving since they got older, so they’ve sold their car and don’t leave the village much anymore. It doesn’t sound like a very good reason to me. Haven’t they heard of trains? My friends, Candy and Em, think there must be a big family secret that Mum and Dad aren’t telling me, like maybe Gramps is a secret agent, lying low because some foreign government has a contract out on his life. Or maybe they are hiding from a jealous, old boyfriend of Nana’s, who has sworn revenge because his heart got broken when she went off to marry Gramps. The trouble is, Candy and Em get a bit carried away sometimes. If they saw Nana and Gramps they wouldn’t believe any of that. They look quite ordinary, but then I suppose they would, wouldn’t they? They’d be mad to advertise their secret life. Looking ordinary could be a disguise. Whatever the reason, you’d think they’d want to see Dad and their grandchildren, we are the only ones they’ve got. Something must have happened. Mum has avoided contact with them altogether since Dad left, even phone calls, which is another thing that Auntie Jackie nags her about. She