Grandma Carol's Adventures

By Tzofit Ofengenden

Nine-year-old Leo loves his strong-willed, funny, and quirky Grandma Carol, even though her memory problems create all sorts of adventures.
After a fire breaks out in Grandma Carol’s living room, Leo’s Mom and Dad decide to hire a caregiver to live with her. Leo is no longer allowed to spend as much time with her as he wants to. But Carol, who has always been a free spirit, is not willing to lose her independence: she plays tricks, hides, and even goes so far as to run away from her caregiver.
Then, one night, a thief with extra-long arms arrives at Grandma’s apartment building…

Tzofit Ofengenden’s comic novel, told from Leo’s innocent but sharp-eyed point of view, is well-observed and cleverly plotted, with wonderfully surreal touches.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035805860

Tzofit Ofengenden

Tzofit Ofengenden was born and raised in Israel and would have lived her whole life there if it had not been for a fateful scholarship to Tübingen university where she earned her Ph.D. in Philosophy. One adventure led to another and after Germany she moved to Australia, China, and since 2010, lives in the USA. She has taught at Brandeis University, Jinan University in China, Loyola University and currently works and teaches at Tulane’s School of Medicine, New Orleans.  She is the mother of two rowdy boys who inspired this book.

Book preview

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For Michael and Emile

Tzofit Ofengenden

Grandma Carol’s Adventures

Illustrated by Emmanuel Giladi

Copyright © Tzofit Ofengenden 2023

The right of Tzofit Ofengenden to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.

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

ISBN 9781035805839 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035805846 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781035805860 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter 1

Grandma’s Living Room Goes Up in Flames

It all started about three months ago. You see, Grandma Carol’s apartment caught fire.

The phone rang. It was three o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. Mom, groggy from sleep, picked up the phone. On the other end of the line was Grandma, screaming at the top of her lungs that a gang of mafia hitmen, thieves, robbers, scoundrels, occupiers, oppressors, murderers, aliens, and monsters with eight sets of legs had broken into her apartment and set her living room on fire.

Mom hung up and called 911. Meanwhile, Grandma was running up and down the stairs of her apartment building, beating on the neighbors’ doors with both of her fists and waking all of them up.

By the time Mom and I got there, Grandma’s neighbors were already gathered together on the sidewalk, still half asleep, some in their pajamas or robes, others covered with hastily grabbed blankets. Everyone was dazed, their faces strained from having to get up so early in the morning. Yet, amid the dismayed and exhausted faces, there was one who was overjoyed. Grandma was jumping up and down like she had won the lottery.

Grandma loved fire in the same way someone might love looking at a beautiful sunset, and it didn’t bother her at all that the fire was consuming her balcony.

Mom parked the car, and we both ran over to Grandma.

Did you see that? Grandma called to me and pointed an unsteady finger at the flames that had engulfed the windows’ blinds and were licking at the balcony.

We must have gotten there a few minutes ahead of the firefighters and police. Grandma, Mom, and I were standing on the sidewalk watching the flames illuminate the early morning. It was the beginning of spring, and there was still a chill in the air, but the waves of heat that burst from Grandma’s apartment warmed the air.

Sirens rang throughout the street as firefighters arrived. They unraveled the water hoses and began spraying water into the apartment.

Mom went over to talk to the cops and firefighters. Grandma lifted the hem of her dress and wiped the sweat from her forehead and cheeks. Her face lit up, and her eyes sparkled with merriment.

You don’t know what happened before you arrived! cried Grandma with great excitement as she stared at the fire.

What happened? I asked curiously. As Grandma started to tell me the tale of what had transpired, Mom had turned around and was walking toward us. She looked very unhappy.

I woke up shortly before three o’clock in the morning, Grandma whispered in a dramatic voice. I heard strange noises in the kitchen and got up to check. I entered the living room, and then I suddenly noticed two shiny black eyes looking at me, and behind the eyes, there was a large plume of flame climbing almost up to the ceiling. You know, the plastic flowers I received at my wedding---and I think you know they still looked new even though I had them for almost fifty years---and the lace tablecloth that covered the table, and the table itself, it all went up in flames. Then as quickly as I spotted those black eyes, they disappeared, and the flame continued to climb and twist. Do you understand? There was someone there who set my apartment on fire.

I don’t think so, Carol, Mom said with a sigh as she approached us. I don’t think that anyone set your apartment on fire. You must have left one of the candles burning after you went to sleep.

No way! Grandma jumped and puffed up her chest, pulling herself up to her fullest height. What kind of shenanigans are you accusing me of now?

Carol, you probably just don’t remember. Why would someone even try to set your living room on fire? Mom asked angrily.

You keep saying that line over and over again, ‘You don’t remember,’ Grandma snapped, glaring at Mom from the corner of her eye. She turned her face away and closed her eyes as pain clouded her features. It just can’t be, Grandma continued, grumbling. There’s no way I left any candles burning! I don’t even have any candles in my apartment; if I want to turn on the light, I just turn on my lamp.

You have candles scattered throughout the apartment everywhere, Mom said, candles for raising souls, for removing bad spirits, for bringing positive energy, and candles for repelling mosquitoes, bees, mice, cats, snakes, and who knows what else. Every time I visit you, I blow out countless candles that you light and then forget about.

Mom went to talk to the firefighters again. Grandma and I remained standing on the sidewalk across from her building and watched the smoke curl from her apartment and the firefighters splash water into the charred remains of her living room.

Grandma Carol is my dad’s mother, but Mom is the one who usually comes and helps her when she calls. Dad is a sales engineer in a company that designs medical equipment for hospitals. He travels a lot because of his job, and he can’t always go to Grandma when she needs him. It might also be because Dad sometimes has shortness of breath; I mean, it’s hard for him to breathe every time we visit Grandma. No one knows why he has these breathing difficulties, and he only has