Sunday Night (Halloween)

Nan and Granddad said that Sandy didn’t have to go back to school tomorrow if she wasn’t feeling up to it, but, much as Sandy could have used another day to get all her homework done, she thought she’d be relieved to get back and see her friends.  The sooner this half-term was well and truly in the past, the better.

As Sandy sat in the dining room, finishing off her last bit of Geography homework (a tourist brochure advertising the town of Cheddar, which Sandy’s teacher was pretty sure would soon replace Ibiza as the hottest holiday destination in Europe), it occurred to her that today was Halloween.  Most years, she’d have regretted not taking the time to invite her friends round to watch scary films and eat candy vampire teeth, but this year she was OK with sitting it out.  She’d had about enough of spooky things for now.

Sandy packed her books away in her bag for tomorrow morning, sand went to the living room.  With any luck, she’d be able to persuade Nan to change the channel to The Simpsons.

When she got to the living room, Nan was on the sofa, watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?.  Except, as Sandy found out when she went up to her to ask for the remote, she wasn’t watching it at all.  She’d fallen asleep, with her head thrown back against the top of the sofa cushions.  Sandy frowned.  It was only six o’clock.  This wasn’t like her at all.

She touched Nan’s hand.  It was cold.

Sandy didn’t give herself any time to panic.  She didn’t even give herself a second to think about what might have happened.  She just placed her hands a centimetre or two above her nan’s ribcage, roughly where she thought her heart might be, and began to hum.

After about a minute, Nan’s eyes opened.  “Hm?  What are you up to?”

Sandy might not have given herself any time to panic, but some of it must have got in anyway, because she practically felt like wilting in relief.  “You were asleep.  I was trying to…”

“Oh God, was I?”  Nan sat up and rubbed her eyes.  “Teach me to try and pull double shifts down at the pub.  I suppose I’ve missed most of this, haven’t I?” she asked, nodding at the TV.

Sandy shrugged.

“Well, here.”  She handed Sandy the remote.  “You might as well watch whatever you like- I’ve no hope of following this at this point.”  She sighed.  “Falling asleep in the afternoon.  Just like an old woman in a deckchair on the beach.  Whatever you do, don’t let your grandfather hear about this- I’d never hear the end of it.”

“OK,” said Sandy, “My lips are sealed.”  And she changed the channel.

The End