by Rachel Ryan
Despite it all, they went on to have an enjoyable evening. The pizza arrived. Georgina and Jimmy had their requisite argument about what to watch. Jimmy liked his movies solidly entertaining (Bren had long since learned that suggesting documentaries was a lost cause), and Georgina’s suggestion of The Magdalene Sisters was shot down immediately as being “too depressing”—Jimmy’s most common criticism of art.
“If I wanted to be depressed, Georgina, I’d read a newspaper. Put on Point Break instead.”
Point Break was Jimmy’s favorite film. Georgina had seen it more times than she cared to count. Resigned, she settled on the sofa to watch two hours of Keanu Reeves running around on a beach, and found it strangely comforting.
Chapter 12
It was that slice of morning peace Georgina enjoyed on the days she wasn’t in work until ten. Bren and Cody had left for the school run. Having already fitted in an hour and a half of studying before breakfast, she was using this silent time to tidy the kitchen and put away laundry. It felt like a luxury to do chores without interruption.
As she carried a basketful of clothes to Cody’s room, her soft steps on the carpet were the only sound in the house.
Cody’s bedroom was small and colorful, painted a bright, happy yellow. Every surface was cluttered with books, half-finished science experiments, and toys that were much loved one week and forgotten the next. His drawings were tacked all over the walls. In one corner stood the “fort” he had constructed with a red blanket, an old broom handle, and Bren’s help. A crumpled piece of paper bearing the warning CODY’S FORT—KEEP OUT was taped over the entrance.
Georgina picked her way over the pencils and open sketchbooks scattered across the carpet to put the laundry basket down on the unmade bed. God, this place was a mess. She set about clearing the floor before she tripped over something.
One of Cody’s sketchbooks was open to a drawing of Georgina. She picked up the book and sat down on her son’s bed, smiling at his crayon-and-pencil impression of her. He always used a bright yellow scribble for her fair hair, and he always drew her smiling: a huge, wobbly, but determined black line curving across the stick-woman’s face.
Wishing she could hug him right now, Georgina turned the page.
The next picture was of Cody. She recognized the way he drew himself too: black crayon for hair, his favorite red shoes colored in. But he wasn’t alone.
Stick-figure Cody was holding hands with a stick-figure old woman.
The smile faded from Georgina’s face. She remembered Bren’s protestations. Just a game… Just his way of feeling close to Rose…
The old woman in the picture had a scribble of short gray hair. Rose McGrath had dyed her hair vivid red until the day she died.
Heart beating faster, Georgina turned another page. The gray-haired woman again, with trees and swings beside her. The park.
In the next drawing, the stick-figure grandmother had her stick arms stretched out as if for a hug. Cody had written underneath, in his childish letters: New Granny.
The coldness spreading through Georgina went right down to her bones. She was frozen where she sat. Too afraid to look around. Afraid she would see a face pressed against the window, staring in at her—
Stop it.
She closed the sketchbook and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She was on the top floor. Nobody could be looking in. She glanced over her shoulder. Daylight was streaming through the window. She was safe.
Resolved, Georgina began to search Cody’s bedroom. She didn’t know what she was looking for, exactly, and her search turned up nothing. In frustration, she paced the carpet. Think. THINK.
Some of the clothes Cody wore more often, his coats and hoodies, hung on the coatrack downstairs.
Taking the steps two at a time, she hurried down to rifle through the pockets. She turned out a broken pencil, a rubber frog, some stray plastic penguin and monkey bullets… And then, in the inside pocket of his green raincoat, her fingers touched something that crinkled.
She pulled out a handful of golden toffee wrappers.
Georgina blinked at them. A memory was tugging at her. She pulled the plastic taut and read the words CAFFREY’S CONFECTIONERY.
Then it came back to her.
For a moment, she was back in the bushes in the park, surrounded by the rustling leaves, tugging a wrapper from the dirt.
Georgina felt a fear like she had never known rising through her. Even when she’d seen the drawings, some part of her hadn’t quite believed there was anything going on. But this—the same sweet wrappers from the park, now in Cody’s pocket—
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold herself together.
Mothers don’t have the luxury of falling apart.
Hands trembling, she went downstairs and located her phone. She tapped the words Caffrey’s Confectionery into Google and clicked Search.
A website appeared:
Welcome to
CAFFREY’S CONFECTIONERY
Purveyors of classic sweets since 1924
Georgina read on shakily.
We are a small, family-run business.
Shop online here!
Our products can also be bought at these outlets:
There followed a list of places where the toffees could be purchased. Georgina recognized only two of the locations: Conkers Café in Rathmines and Healthy Green, the hipster supermarket in Smithfield. The sort of places that stocked pricey, artisanal products.
Even Bren would have to see that this couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone had given Cody those sweets.
And that person had been in the bushes that day in the park. Standing just a few feet away from Georgina, watching her from the shadows as her “Hello?” fell flat on the frosty grass.
Georgina stood up sharply. She wanted to get out of the house. But she already knew her hours at work would be spent mentally fast-forwarding to the moment she could show Bren what she had found. Solid evidence that this wasn’t all in Cody’s—or Georgina’s—head. Something undeniable, something material, something she could hold in her hand.
Chapter 13
The sketchbook was open on the kitchen table. Beside it lay the handful of golden wrappers. Bren stood, leafing through the pages, looking at each drawing but making no comment. Georgina hovered nearby, waiting anxiously for his verdict.
“Well, these are certainly creepy,” he said eventually. “I get why you were upset. But they don’t prove anything other than what we already know: Cody has an imaginary grandmother.”
Georgina was at a loss. She had been certain that when she showed him this evidence, he’d be on her side. That they’d take steps together to protect Cody.
“But you said this ‘game’ was his way of mourning Rose. That’s clearly not a drawing of my mother.”
Bren shrugged.
“So he dreamt up a more generic grandmother. One who looks like the grandparents his friends have, or the ones he sees in books.”
He closed the sketchbook and stepped away from the table, looking at Georgina with finality.
“But the wrappers.” She gestured towards them. “They’re a speciality brand. Hard to find. It’s proof.”
“Proof of what? That Cody ate some sweets?”
Georgina didn’t like the way Bren was looking at her.
“That there was really someone there,” she answered hesitantly. “In the park that day. The same person who’s been giving Cody these fancy sweets.” That was obvious—wasn’t it?
Bren was silent.
“Bren,” Georgina went on, desperate now, “please listen to me. I think someone’s in contact with our son. We’d be bad parents if we didn’t take this seriously.”
Bren didn’t speak for a while. He rubbed his face with one hand, scratching at several days’ growth of stubble. Then he said evenly, “That’s not fair, Georgina. I’m not a bad parent because I won’t join in your delusion.”
“What?” The word gasped out of he
r.
“Oh, you can imply that I’m a bad parent, but I can’t point out how fucking insane this is?”
Georgina flinched. Bren looked immediately contrite.
“Sorry, Georgie. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” Well, maybe not fine exactly, but… “It’s Cody we should be worried about.”
Bren continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve been worried about you for a while, Georgina. You’ve been under so much strain lately. You’re not coping.”
And before she could collect her thoughts, he’d unzipped his backpack and produced a leaflet.
“I hate to bring this up during a row, but…” He handed it to her. “I really do think you should go and speak to someone.”
Georgina stared down at the leaflet. The front featured a pretty blonde woman holding a cup of tea and staring into the distance, wearing a vacant expression apparently intended to look pensive. The bright blue text read: Want to take steps to a healthier, happier, less stressed you? Don’t know where to begin? Take the first step by calling Better Steps Therapy today.
“I’ve done my research,” said Bren. “This place is supposed to be really excellent. I think therapy could really—”
“I don’t need therapy!” Georgina burst out. “I don’t need to ‘take steps to a less stressed me’!” She grabbed the handful of toffee wrappers off the table. “I didn’t imagine these! Someone’s giving Cody sweets! It’s this old woman… She’s real. Bren, you have to believe me.”
Bren’s face was a mask of pity and concern.
“Oh, Georgie” was all he said.
Georgina’s fingers closed tight on the toffee wrappers. How could she make him see? She stood there for a long moment, staring at the vacuous model on the front of the counseling leaflet, brain whirring.
Then the answer clicked in her mind. It was so simple, so obvious.
“Let’s ask Cody.”
“What?”
“Let’s ask him! He’s been telling us all along that this woman is real, and we haven’t been listening to him. Let’s listen.”
Bren looked thoughtful. “All right,” he said. “It might be good for you. But let me do the talking, okay?”
Georgina shoved the wrappers into her pocket.
“Okay.”
Cody was lying on his bed, reading, when they entered his room.
“Hey, buddy.” Bren sat down on the edge of the bed. Georgina lingered nervously by the door.
Cody observed his parents with a tinge of alarm. Georgina guessed he was going over his many small crimes in his head, wondering which he had been caught out for. She felt a rush of love for her mischievous son.
“It’s all right, kiddo,” said Bren. “You’re not in trouble.” Cody visibly relaxed. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”
It sounds like a police interview, Georgina thought.
“It’s about New Granny,” said Bren. “You know that game you’ve been playing, buddy?”
Was it Georgina’s imagination, or did Cody tense up?
“Well, we have a question, and the answer is important.” Bren was using the kind, measured tones that Georgina always admired in his parenting. “We know New Granny is real to you, but we want to know: is she real-real? I know you can see her, but is she a person me and Mom would be able to see?”
Cody took his time answering. He looked at both his parents thoughtfully, his eyes moving across his father’s face, then his mother’s.
“No,” he said. “I made her up.”
Bren looked over at Georgina. There you go, his expression said.
Georgina kept her gaze trained on her son. “You made her up, Cody?”
“Yes.” His voice was clear and innocent. “It was a game.”
“Then where did these come from?” She produced the handful of golden toffee wrappers. “New Granny gave them to you, didn’t she?”
Cody hesitated, looking trapped. Bren was frowning at Georgina, but she ignored him.
“Was it New Granny?” she repeated with more force. “Tell the truth!”
“Jesus, Georgina.” Bren stood up. “They’re sweets. He could have got them anywhere. From a party, from a friend at school…”
Cody was listening intently from the bed.
“Yeah,” he piped up. “I got them from my friend at school.”
His eyes were huge and blue. Georgina looked directly into them. “Which friend, Cody?”
“Umm… I forget.”
“Cody, tell me which friend.”
“Georgina, stop it.” Bren’s tone was absolute, and Georgina, not wanting to enter into a full-on row in front of Cody, allowed herself to be ushered out of the room. As they left, she glanced back at her son. That wide-eyed expression was one he often wore when telling a lie.
Chapter 14
I made her up.
Throughout the following day—at work, during the school run—those words echoed in Georgina’s head.
I made her up.
I made her up.
She tried to question Cody after school, but “I told you already. Leave me alone” was all he would say, turning his face stubbornly away from her. Then Bren came home from work early, and she knew her chance was gone.
“How are you feeling?” Bren kept speaking to her in a Very Kind voice, the way the young speak to the elderly and infirm. “Have you had a chance to think about what I said? I can call up the counseling service and make an appointment for you, if you’d like.”
Georgina knew he meant well, patronizing as he was. But she refused to be talked around anymore. All along, Cody’s game had given Georgina the same feeling a spider’s wriggling black legs gave her—a crawling sensation along her skin.
It was Bren who had convinced her not to take that feeling seriously. Bren, in his unshakable belief that his own logic was infallible.
She should have listened to her gut from the beginning.
“Georgina? Did you get a chance to read that leaflet?”
She mumbled something about needing fresh air. She grabbed her coat and scarf, dodged past her husband, and slipped out.
But she didn’t go for a walk. Instead, she went around to the side of her house and looked at the side gate. She remembered the figure at the window last Saturday. The one Bren had been so certain was “a trick of the light.”
Was it plausible that somebody had jumped over this gate? Was Cody’s new friend watching their family?
Georgina stared at the side gate, wondering how easy it was to climb.
Only one way to find out.
She stepped onto the low wall that separated their garden from Anthony’s and heaved herself up and over the gate, landing comfortably in the back garden.
It wasn’t difficult at all. Any able-bodied person could do that.
In fact, she realized, if somebody stood on the wall, reached over, and undid the bolt, they’d be able to walk straight through. No vaulting necessary.
As she stood there in the dark and cold, contemplating this unpleasant fact, Georgina felt eyes on her. She turned her gaze upwards and saw that Anthony was watching her from an upstairs window. They made eye contact, and he stepped quickly out of sight.
Odd man, Georgina thought, remembering his midnight digging behind the shed. But then, she conceded, she was the eccentric neighbor now, wasn’t she? Anthony must think she was loopy, jumping over her own side gate…
Standing exactly where the person had stood on that night, Georgina looked in her kitchen window. Had they been trying to scare her? Or hoping to go unnoticed?
Bren was in the front room with Cody. There was no one to see her looking around the garden, using the flashlight on her phone. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, exactly. Some clue, as if from a murder mystery novel? Footprints? A scrap of torn clothing? But she found nothing.
Their cramped little garden didn’t take long to search. There was the single dogwood tree, the
concrete paving, and a tiny shed that was usually locked. Without thinking, she tried the shed door and to her surprise found it open. Bren must have forgotten to lock it.
She stepped inside the shed, closing the door behind her.
It smelled damp and cold. By the light of her phone, Georgina could see cobwebs and clutter. Gardening shears. A shovel. Bren’s hiking things—a backpack, walking poles, mud-caked boots—dumped out here, never cleaned. Just general domestic debris, but…
She confronted the fear that had been stirring in her subconscious since she realized the shed was unlocked. Someone could have hidden in here, if they were watching the house.
The thought was ice water down her back.
She shone the light around again. This time something caught her eye. A small object on the ground glittered green as it caught the light.
Georgina crouched down for a closer look. She reached through the clutter and pulled it free.
It was a green stone on a long gold chain. A necklace. By the flashlight, she stared at it. The stone was set in some ornate, rather fussy detail, the kind of thing she herself would never wear.
Perhaps it had belonged to some previous occupant of the house. That was certainly the most logical explanation. That was what Bren would say. This house was built in 1922. Generations have lived and died here. It’s hardly a great mystery, is it, Georgina?
It did look old-fashioned. Like something from another era.
She shivered, slipped the necklace into her pocket, and got out of the shed fast.
When Bren saw her back in the house, he did a double take.
“Georgina. I didn’t hear you come in.”
She shrugged. Was there any point explaining that she’d been in the shed or showing him the necklace? Initiating another painful conversation during which he refused to take her seriously? Perhaps she should wait until she could connect the dots and present him with a complete picture.
But she was bursting to talk it through with someone. So that night, when Cody was asleep and Bren was in the bathroom, Georgina decided to tell him.