Granny Ting Ting Read online

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  It was a warm Caribbean evening. Ten-year-old Shayla was sitting on Granny’s porch, kicking her feet impatiently.

  “How much longer now?” she asked.

  “They’ve only just left the airport,” Mommy said. “Why don’t you go inside and keep Granny company?”

  Granny had recently had an eye operation. Now she could almost see properly, but still found things difficult.

  Shayla’s cousin Michael and Aunty Jess were coming to Arouca to help Granny get better.

  Michael was born in Trinidad, like Shayla, but moved to London when he was a baby. On his last visit, four years ago, the cousins had great fun chasing Granny’s chickens and playing hide-and-seek in the bamboo by the river.

  Shayla couldn’t wait to see Michael again. She jumped up from her seat and ran to the gate as a car crawled slowly towards the house.

  “Is that them?” she cried.

  But the car carried on.

  Shayla sat down again. She was too excited to read, so she watched the fireflies’ shining green bottoms bump together under the papaya tree.

  Deep in the bushes, the cicadas screeched their night song.

  “Queetch, queek, queel,” Shayla repeated. “You’re so noisy!”

  “They’re calling for girlfriends,” Mommy said. “They have flaps on their tummy. They pull them in and out to make all that noise.”

  Shayla took a deep breath and pulled her tummy in tight. She let out the breath and her tummy relaxed. In, out, in, out, very quickly. But all Shayla could manage was a strange, puffy noise and a squeal.

  Mommy laughed.

  “I think you need flaps to make it work.”

  Another car was approaching. Its headlights were bright against the dark road.

  “Look!” Mommy said. “This could be them!”

  Shayla ran back to the gate. The car was going to turn the corner. It slowed down. And stopped.

  “Go on,” Mommy urged. “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

  But Shayla suddenly felt shy.

  Mommy rushed out of the house towards the visitors. Granny followed slowly behind her.

  Aunty Jess climbed out of the car. She had thin, twisted dreadlocks tied back with a silver scarf.

  Granny and Aunty Jess had a long hug. Then Mommy and Aunty Jess had a long hug.

  Shayla wondered if she should go and take part in some long hugging, too. But she stayed where she was, staring at the car. Was that shadowy figure Michael? Why didn’t he get out and say hello?

  “Shayla’s so excited,” Mommy was saying. “She’s been bouncing around like a grasshopper all week.”

  Great. Now Michael would think she was really stupid. Shayla marched towards the car, and was instantly scooped up into Aunty Jess’s arms.

  “Oh, my little darling!” Aunty Jess planted a kiss on Shayla’s forehead. Shayla buried her face in Aunty’s jacket, hoping to smell England.

  Aunty Jess held Shayla’s shoulders and stared at her. “You have grown so much!”

  Shayla noticed a golden stud in Aunty’s eyebrow and wondered if Granny would approve of that!

  “And what about my Michael?” Aunty Jess pointed to the figure who was now standing by the car. There was a hint of mischief in her voice. “Has he grown, too?”

  Shayla glanced across. Michael seemed much taller than before and looked very grown-up and fashionable. He was wearing baggy jeans, a white T-shirt and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead.

  The boy gave a tired smile and stared at the ground.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Aunty Jess said. “He’s going through his grumpy phase. And if he’s anything like his dad, that’s not likely to end soon.”

  Mommy and Aunty Jess laughed.

  Michael did not.

  “Don’t upset the boy.” Granny steered everyone into the house. “It’s been such a long time since our family was together.”

  Then she pulled the sliding door shut against the night.

  Chapter Two

  Next morning, Shayla woke to the sound of the radio and the clatter of cooking pans. Comforting home noises. Though this wasn’t Shayla’s home. Her house was half an hour’s drive away. But she and Mommy had been staying with Granny ever since the eye operation.

  Daddy didn’t mind because he was away in America for a month, teaching in a university.

  Granny’s house was built on brick and concrete “stilts”. Under the house, they kept a large freezer, empty bottles to return to the shops and Grandpa’s old, rusting bike. Beyond was Granny’s back yard, which was bursting with fruit trees and Shayla’s very own vegetable patch.

  Shayla stood outside Michael’s room for a few minutes, but there was no sound. She went into the kitchen. Mommy was squeezing limes to make juice. The skins were heaped in a pile by the sink.

  “Can I wake Michael up?”

  “He’s having a good sleep so his body can set to Trinidad time.” Mommy squeezed the last lime and washed her hands. “But later on, you can both help Granny make tamarind balls. Is that OK?”

  Shayla nodded. She grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and went to sit on the steps overlooking the back yard. Three years ago, Mommy had planted a powderpuff tree. Now, a jewel-coloured hummingbird darted around the fluffy, pink blossoms.

  The neighbour’s mango tree was full of green fruit. Shayla hoped some ripe ones would fall on Granny’s side.

  And then there was Shayla’s favourite lime tree. She loved climbing high into its branches and watching the world below.

  Michael woke up at midday. He still looked tired and grumpy, and rather hot in his hooded sweatshirt and jeans.

  The cousins stared at each other, then Michael grinned. “I’ve brought you a present.” He rummaged in his pockets. “It’s a pet.”

  It must be small, thought Shayla. A mouse, or maybe a beetle. How did he stop it escaping on the plane?

  “Here.” Michael handed her a small box. “All the girls have them in London.”

  Shayla opened the box, emptied it out and peered into its corners.

  “Did it run away?”

  “No!”

  On the table was something round and purple. It had a screen and five buttons set in the shape of a paw print.

  “Is this the pet?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. “You have to give it a name. Then you use those buttons to feed it and take it for a walk.”

  The thing beeped at Shayla. She put it down on the table.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Shayla!” Mommy was calling. She and Aunty Jess came in from the porch. “I’m taking Jess over to our house. She’s promised to help me tackle that wild garden of ours. And I need to pick up some more clothes for you.”

  Aunty Jess smiled. “I’m not sure about the gardening. But I wouldn’t mind catching up on some gossip!”

  “Can me and Michael come?” asked Shayla.

  “I thought you were going to help Granny make tamarind balls,” Mommy said.

  Shayla could see Granny through the glass door leading to the porch.

  She was lying back in a chair with her eyes closed. The day was hot, but Granny wore a thick sweater. She didn’t look like the same Granny who had chased a big lizard from under the house last year.

  Michael was frowning.

  “Don’t worry,” Aunty Jess chuckled. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours, and Shayla will look after you.”

  Mommy and Aunty Jess left.

  Michael stom
ped around the back yard frightening the chickens and kicking up clouds of dust.

  “What’s the matter?” Shayla asked.

  “I’m older than you. I don’t need looking after.”

  “But you don’t know where things are!”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Michael clomped down beneath the house. Shayla followed him.

  “Michael? What are you…? No! You’re not allowed!”

  But it was too late. Michael had pulled out the rusty old bicycle and was wheeling it towards the road.

  “Granny!” Shayla yelled. “Michael’s going!”

  Granny came onto the porch. With a ting of the bell, Michael was gone.

  “He’ll get lost!” Shayla peered down the road. “Shall I call the police?”

  Granny shook her head. “He’ll be back soon. Anyway, it’s nice to see that old bicycle on the road again.”

  “Did you ever ride it?”

  “No, darling. I tried so many times. I just couldn’t work it out. But when your grandpa died, I knew I could never give it away.”

  “Because it reminds you of him?” Shayla loved it when Granny told her stories about the past.

  “Well,” Granny said, with a slightly sad smile. “When Grandpa and I got married, nobody we knew owned a car. And I refused to leave church in a horse and cart!

  “So Grandpa tied a huge, yellow bow to the handlebars of that bike, and I sat side-saddle on the crossbar. He pedalled me two miles down the road to our new home.”

  “Did he have to go up any hills?”

  “Just a small one. But there were lots of potholes! There still are, and maybe they got the better of your cousin. Look! Here he comes now.”

  With a clank and squeal, Michael stopped outside the houe. His face was covered with sweat.

  “It’s easy to find your way round if you’re used to London.”

  He gave a slightly embarrassed smile and wiped his wet forehead with his sleeve. “Of course, I could have gone further, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Chapter Three

  Shayla loved the way tamarind balls filled your mouth with sweetness and sourness at the same time. The brown, sugary sweets were definitely one of her favourites.

  “Do you have tamarind balls in England?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Michael said. “In London you can get anything. Our market sells sweets from Trinidad and India and Nigeria… Everywhere!”

  “Well,” Shayla said. “I’m sure the tamarind balls in London aren’t nearly as tasty as Granny’s.”

  Granny let Michael split open the brown tamarind pods and scrape the pulp into a bowl. That was usually Shayla’s job. She stood by the fridge watching him.

  “I bet people from London can’t eat tamarinds as they are,” she said.

  Michael looked at her.

  “Shayla…” Granny warned.

  But Michael spooned up some pulp and shoved it into his mouth. His eyes widened as the sourness pinched his tongue.

  Shayla grinned. “Can you hold it in there for a minute?”

  Michael closed his eyes.

  Shayla looked at the clock.

  “Time’s up! Now how about some ginger beer to wash it down?”

  “Don’t make mischief, Shayla,” Granny said. “That will be too spicy for Michael.”

  But her grandson was already at the fridge door. He found the jug of ginger beer, poured a glass and took a massive gulp.

  “Aaagh!” Michael snorted and his eyes watered.

  Shayla went over and poured a glass for herself. She sipped and closed her eyes in enjoyment.

  “I bet ginger beer’s not this hot in London.”

  Michael glared at her.

  “Of course it is! And I can eat much hotter things than that! Granny, what’s the spiciest thing in your fridge?”

  “Granny’s hot, hot, hot pepper sauce,” Shayla replied. “Even my uncles only have a tiny bit of that.”

  Michael rummaged in the fridge. He held up a jar of fiery red-and-yellow mush.

  “I think you should leave that alone,” Granny said firmly.

  But Michael wrenched off the lid and plunged his finger into the sauce. Shayla sneezed as the hot pepper fumes wafted up her nose. Michael breathed in and stuck his finger in his mouth.

  Silence.

  Shock.

  A hundred soldier ants were biting his tongue.

  It was the hottest thing in the whole world and it was stuck to the inside of Michael’s mouth.

  Michael gasped. His eyes streamed. His nose dripped. His throat opened and closed and a strange gargling sound came out.

  “Ice,” Granny ordered. “Quick!”

  Shayla ran down to the freezer under the house, tripping over the old bike in her hurry. She grabbed a handful of ice cubes and rushed back to Michael. He sucked one slowly.

  “My!” Granny looked at Michael with amusement. “You’re a bold one.”

  “Your turn,” Michael said, offering the jar to Shayla.

  But Shayla shook her head.

  “In Trinidad, we are much more sensible.”

  It was late afternoon. Granny had given Michael two bowls of homemade ice cream to help take away the taste of the pepper. Now she was showing him around the back yard. Shayla trailed behind.

  “That’s cocoa.” Granny pointed to a small tree with big, orangey pods hanging from its trunk and branches. “You can see sugar cane at the back. That cashew is new since you were last here. And over there? That’s stinking toe.” She showed him a big tree with fat, brown, knobbly pods. It looked like a small giant was dangling his feet through the branches.

  “What’s the stinking bit about?” Michael asked.

  “When the fruit’s ripe…” Granny held her nose. “Imagine the stinkiest sneakers left out in the rain overnight.”

  “Yuk,” said Shayla and Michael together.

  “And this…” Granny stood by a tall, thick-trunked tree. “Is our lime. It takes up so much space, we want to cut it down, but Shayla won’t let us.”

  “It’s my climbing tree,” Shayla said. “London doesn’t have any trees, does it? Only high buildings and cars.”

  “Of course there are trees in London,” Michael said. “And I bet I can climb higher than you.”

  “Go on, then!”

  “Oh, you children!” Granny shrugged and went back inside.

  Michael grasped the trunk and found his first foothold. He heaved himself up and pulled himself onto the lower branches. Then higher and higher. He poked his head through the top leaves and waved.

  “Your turn,” Michael said, scrambling down.

  No problem. Shayla gripped the trunk and pulled herself up. This was her tree. She knew every branch. Every twig. She had done this hundreds of times. Nothing was going to stop her showing Michael how…

  And then she saw it.

  A fat, black-and-yellow striped body. Orange, spotty feet. A bright-red head.

  It was crawling towards her.

  Just a caterpillar. Harmless. But…

  “Aaaagghhhhhh!”

  Shayla came down much quicker than she’d gone up, crashing through the branches, leaping onto the dusty ground. She picked herself up and brushed some chicken poo from her T-shirt.

  “I think I won that contest, too,” Michael laughed. “There’s an adventure playground near my home in London. The climbing frame’s much harder to get up than this tree!”

  Chapter Four

  Night comes quickly in Trinidad, like someone’s kicked the sun to the other side of the world and dropped the moon into its place.

  Aunty Jess and Mommy were washing up. The television was on. A man lay bound in bandages like a mummy, trying to speak. Granny loved soap operas. She knew all the characters just from their voices.

  “Tell them where you hid the money,” Granny said loudly.

  Shayla was used to Granny talking to the television, but Michael looked alarmed.

  The bandaged man opened his eyes. Move
d his lips. Then…

  Darkness. Silence.

  Shayla’s heart thumped.

  A mosquito buzzed near her ear. She could hear Michael breathing.

  “It’s just a power cut,” Granny said. “There are plenty of candles.”

  Mommy rattled around in the kitchen drawers and soon the room filled with flickering light.

  Aunty Jess giggled. “This used to happen all the time when we were little.”

  Mommy agreed. “And those stories Granny would tell us. They were terrifying! Especially the one about Uncle William. I’ll never forget that.”

  “What happened?” Shayla asked.

  “I’m no good at telling stories,” said Mommy.

  “Can you tell it, Granny?” asked Michael.

  “Well…” Granny said. “Uncle William was coming home late one night, when he heard a baby crying.

  “No, he thought. It must be my imagination.

  “He went to bed and lay down. But still he could hear it.

  “He opened the window to look, but the night was as dark as the inside of a box. He couldn’t see anything, so he went out to the back yard.

  “He shone his torch behind the chicken house, frightening the rooster who gave a loud crow…”

  “Cocker doodle-doo!” Shayla yelled, grabbing her cousin’s shoulder.

  “Shush,” Michael said, in a shaky voice.

  “He searched everywhere,” Granny continued. “There was nothing. But, as he went back to the house, it came again. A whimper.

  “Uncle William shone his torch towards the road. And there it was.”

  “What?” the children spoke together.

  Shadows fluttered across Granny’s face. “A baby, just sitting there. It was wearing a wide, cone-shaped hat so Uncle couldn’t see its face. And then he noticed the feet, which were turned inwards.

  “Uncle started to shake. Now he knew what it was – a douenne – a restless ghost child looking for a playmate. Old people often told tales about them. Mothers were warned that if a douenne calls your child’s name they may be lost for ever.