Well, not alone. Grandad’s dog, Sandy, was hiding under my bed. Whimpering. Scared of the storm. Sandy wasn’t supposed to come inside but we always let her when the thunder started. It’s funny how dogs that are really brave turn to shaking jelly when it thunders.
A huge gust of wind buffeted the window. For a moment I thought that the glass was going to break and send sharp spears flying into my room. The rain sounded like a million bullets spitting against the pane.
‘Shoot,’ I said to myself. ‘I’m getting out of here.’
I jumped out of bed and ran down to the lounge. Grandad and Grandma were holding hands in the dark. Watching the lightning tear at the sky. They didn’t know that I was there. They didn’t know that someone was listening.
‘Keith was asking about my watch,’ said Grandad.
‘You should leave it to him,’ said Grandma. ‘To remember you by.’
Grandad shook his head. ‘I want you to have it, Elsie,’ he said. ‘And I want you to promise me something.’
Grandma turned her wrinkled face towards him. ‘Anything,’ she said. ‘Anything.’
He waved his arm around. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I want you to keep it going. Keep it ticking. Don’t let it stop. When I die I want you to put this watch on. Its tick will remind you that for all those years my heart was beating close to yours. Promise?’
‘Promise,’ said Grandma. ‘I’ll wear it always. I won’t let it stop. Not until we meet again.’
I just stood there. Frozen. My heart seemed to miss a beat. Tears started to squeeze out of my eyes. I didn’t want Grandad to die. Grandad’s aren’t supposed to die. Especially when you don’t have a mum or dad.
Grandads are meant to be there forever. Laughing at your jokes. Fixing your bike. Flying kites. Bringing you special presents. Reading you stories in bed. Making you feel better in storms.
Grandma put an arm around Grandad’s old, bent shoulders. ‘I’ll listen to it every day,’ she said. ‘It’s ticking now and I’ll keep it going. It will never stop. That’s my promise.’
I crept back to my room. Suddenly the storm didn’t seem to matter any more. What if the roof tore away? What if the windows blew in? What if the whole house was blasted into the sky? What did that matter?
It didn’t matter at all. Not when you knew that one day soon your Grandad might not be there.
I lay there under the covers thinking about it. Not hearing the wind.
When Grandad’s heart stopped, Grandma was going to take his watch from his wrist and put it on. She was going to keep it going. It was sort of like keeping him there with her. As if the ticking was his heart still beating.
It was so sad.
2
The next day the wind was still blowing but the storm had gone.
Grandad and I struggled along the edge of the cliff, carrying fishing rods. Gulls flew above, hovering in the uprush of air off the sea. Sandy ran from rabbit hole to rabbit hole, sniffing and snorting. Loving every minute.
‘I’m taking you to my special spot,’ said Grandad. ‘It’s a long way and no one knows it except me and Grandma. The best fishing hole on the coast. I want you to keep it a secret. Pass it on in the family after I’m gone.’
‘That won’t be for a long time, will it?’ I said.
Grandad didn’t seem to hear. He just smiled and changed the subject. ‘Here’s Fred’s Bridge,’ he said.
I gasped at the sight. It was one of those cable bridges that are built on two ropes. It stretched high above a gorge. Way down below, the sea was sucking and swelling over black rocks. Every now and then a tremendous wave would thunder into the gorge and send salt spray shooting up almost to the top.
I didn’t like the look of it. Not one bit. If there was one thing worse than the wind it was heights.
I looked at the suspension bridge and my head began to spin. The waves below reached up like grasping fingers waiting to pull us into the wild water.
‘It’s all right,’ said Grandad with a laugh. ‘You can’t fall off. The net would stop you.’
Fred’s Bridge had two string walls made out of fishing net. The thought of stumbling against one of them made me feel sick. All right, you wouldn’t fall. But how would you feel at that moment of terror as the net gave way under your weight? Just the idea of it made me feel like heaving up my breakfast.
And what if the ropes broke? Like they do in the movies. If that happened we would both be thrown to our deaths.
Grandad walked on to the swaying bridge. ‘Come on,’ he said.
I watched him cross. The bridge swayed with every step. I waited until he had crossed right over to the other side. Then I put one foot onto the wooden slats. And then the other.
Oh, I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t do it. Not just walking across like that. I dropped down on my hands and knees and started to crawl. I made my way forward like a cowardly dog.
‘Come on,’ yelled Grandad. ‘You can do it.’
Finally I reached the other side. Grandad smiled and rubbed my hair. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘We all have our own demons to face.’
‘Where’s Sandy?’ I asked.
We both stared across the bridge. Sandy was whimpering and putting one paw on the slats and then backing away. She was too frightened to cross. She didn’t like the look of the bridge.
‘Go home girl,’ Grandad yelled. Sandy just sat there. She was going to wait.
Grandad looked at his watch. ‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said. ‘It’s still a long way.’
3
It was too. We walked along the cliff tops for another hour before we stopped. Grandad was puffing. He sat down and rested against a gnarled tree. All of the leaves had been ripped off by the wind. The branches shook like fingers on a dancing skeleton. Nothing could stand up to that wind. It killed everything except the tough grass, which bent and rippled like the surface of the sea.
Clouds ripped across the sky. ‘A storm’s coming,’ said Grandad. ‘The wind is picking up. I think we’d better go back.’
I was really disappointed. We hadn’t even started fishing and now he wanted to go back.
Suddenly Grandad cried out in pain. He clutched at his chest and screwed up his face in agony.
‘Grandad,’ I yelled. ‘What’s the matter? What’s up?’
‘My ticker,’ he groaned. ‘My ticker’s playing up.’
I looked at his wrist. ‘Your watch?’ I shouted.
‘My heart,’ he said. His face grew white and he clutched his chest with his right hand.
He slumped against the tree with his eyes closed. ‘Grandad,’ I shrieked. ‘Grandad.’
He didn’t move. He didn’t answer. He was gasping for air with a terrible rasping sound. I looked around for help. But there was no one there.
There was nothing I could do but leave Grandad lying under the bare tree. I ran and ran and ran. My sides ached. A terrible pain stabbed into the left side of my stomach. I gasped and wheezed and fought for every breath.
And with each step the wind grew stronger. Soon it was ripping and tearing at my clothes. My hair was lashing my face. I felt like I was forcing my way through an invisible wall. The wind was my enemy. Pushing me back. Slowing me down. Trying to topple me off the cliff.
I hated that wind.
But I battled against it. Step after step. Leaping, struggling, pushing myself against the terrible storm.
Until at last I reached Fred’s Bridge. It’s funny how you can find courage when you need it. I ran straight onto the bridge without even thinking. It swayed and rocked wildly but I hardly noticed. I lurched crazily with every step but in no time I reached the other side where Sandy was still waiting patiently. She whimpered and jumped up at me.
‘Come on, girl,’ I shouted. ‘Grandad’s in trouble.’
I ran and ran and ran with Sandy at my heels. Many times I stopped and held my side. The pain was sharp and piercing. The wind grew into a shrieking, howling monster. Trying everything i
t could to stop me.
But in the end I reached the house. I burst into the kitchen and shouted. The words all came out in a rush.
‘Grandma,’ I yelled. ‘Grandad’s ticker is playing up.’
4
The people from the State Emergency Service came quickly. They wouldn’t let me go with them. They wouldn’t let Grandma go either. We had to wait. For ages and ages. The storm whipped and raged and ranted. Night fell.
I wondered if the people from the SES would be able to get across the bridge to Grandad? What if it had been damaged by the wind?
They did get across the bridge to Grandad. But when they reached him his heart had stopped beating. He was dead. There was nothing they could do for him so they had to wait for the storm to end. They had to stay there on the cliff all night with Grandad. That’s what the police told us.
Grandma and Sandy and I sat and waited as the hours ticked by. We hugged each other and let the tears mix on our cheeks. We stared out of the window and watched the storm die in the new days’ dawn.
In the morning the SES carried Grandad back to our house on a stretcher covered in a blanket. An ambulance was waiting to take him away.
Grandma made me stay inside but she went out and looked under the blanket. I saw her lift Grandad’s cold, stiff arm and peer at his wrist. Then she spoke to one of the men. He sadly shook his head.
When she came back I said, ‘Was the watch there?’
She threw a glance at the kitchen clock and said, ‘He must have dropped it. It will have stopped ticking by now. I won’t be able to keep my promise.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘I’ll get it for you,’ I said in a determined voice. ‘I’ll find it.’
Grandma shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s no use. I was supposed to keep it ticking. To never let it stop. To remind me that for all those years his heart had gone on beating next to mine. But now it’s stopped and the promise is already broken.’
I didn’t know what to say. I just keep thinking of that watch lying there on the cliff top. Silent. Still. With frozen hands. Not ticking. The cruel wind covering it with dust.
I hated that wind.
5
There was a funeral.
And there was a wake where everyone came and brought cakes and casseroles. Friends called in and left cards and flowers. They told stories about Grandad and the old days. There was laughter and tears. Every day for a month people visited or phoned.
But in the end there was just me and Grandma. She had not smiled. Not once since Grandad had died.
She would slowly go about her daily jobs. And when they were done, she would sit on the porch with the wind gently blowing her hair and watch the sea.
But she never smiled. Not once.
‘It’s the watch,’ I said. “Isn’t it?”
She nodded. ‘I didn’t keep it ticking. I let it stop. I broke my word.’
‘You couldn’t help it,’ I said. ‘They wouldn’t let you go.’
I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to cheer her up. I wanted to see her smile again. I made her breakfast in bed. I told her stories and jokes. I brought her ropes and buoys and craypots that washed up on the shore. I gave her hugs and read aloud to her.
But nothing worked. Nothing would take the sadness out of her eyes. Or put the smile back on her lips.
Even Sandy’s snuffling wet nose and excited barking couldn’t cheer her up.
Then one day a terrible thought hit me. What if Grandma’s ticker stopped? What if her heart stopped beating? What if she just gave up?
That’s when I decided. That’s when I made up my mind to find that watch. Even if it had stopped ticking.
6
I packed some water and food and started off along the cliff. I didn’t tell Grandma. No one knew where I was going. Except Sandy. She trotted a few steps behind me. She didn’t chase rabbits or birds. She stayed right with me. Almost as if she knew what was going on.
The wind grew stronger and stronger. Why did it always try to stop me? I lowered my head and pushed my way against it to the bridge.
Or what was left of it.
The wooden slats were still intact. But the netting sides had been ripped out by the wind. They flew like tattered flags from the ropes above. There was nothing to stop anyone falling straight down into the sea. The waves were moving mountains again today. The bridge shook and buckled like a road rearing in an earthquake.
I hid the sight from my eyes with my hands. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t cross. I couldn’t move.
How long I crouched there is hard to say. But then I started to think of Grandma. How many ticks did her heart have left? Could it stop beating just because it was sad?
I crawled out onto the planks. There were no sides. There was nothing to stop me hurtling down into the clutches of the angry waves below. I closed my eyes and went forward on my hands and knees. But it was too terrifying. I collapsed onto my stomach and moved forward on my belly like a snake instead. I wriggled along the heaving surface, desperately grabbing one plank after another, and dragging my legs behind me. The bridge swayed and rocked with renewed fury in the howling wind.
Slowly, slowly, I inched forward. For one crazy second I thought about throwing myself down just to end the agony. But in the end I beat it. I made it to the other side with my eyes still closed.
Something wet touched my face. Wet and sloppy. It was Sandy. She had followed me across. How she didn’t get blown off the bridge I’ll never know.
We struggled on against the wind. Sometimes rain squalls would sweep in from the sea and lash my face. My nose and the tips of my ears were so cold that they hurt. But we kept going. I had to find that watch. Even if it had stopped ticking. I felt that it might somehow help Grandma. And keep her going.
I crossed a huge sand dune. The wind picked up the grains of sand and hurled them into my face, like a volley of tiny arrows.
I hated the wind.
7
At last I reached the place where Grandad had died. The lonely tree still clawed at the sky with its bare limbs.
I began to search among the grass and rocks. Grandad had been wearing the watch when I had left him. And the SES had brought him back on a stretcher. So it must be around somewhere. I began to circle the tree, inspecting every inch of ground. I walked slowly, gradually working my way further and further out.
Nothing. No sign of it.
Sandy was snuffling and sniffing herself. Was she looking for rabbits? Or did she understand? Did she want to find the watch too?
After about an hour I stopped and slumped down against the tree just like Grandad had when he’d died. The watch was nowhere to be seen. It was useless. Grandad had died leaning against the tree. He hadn’t moved. But the watch wasn’t there.
A terrible feeling of emptiness seemed to drain away my strength. I leaned back and closed my eyes. The cold wind buffeted my face.
‘Ruff, ruff, ruff.’ Sandy began to bark like crazy.
I jumped up to see what she was barking about. ‘Good girl,’ I shouted. ‘You little beauty.’
8
I don’t remember much about the journey back. I was so happy.
Once again I had to face the swaying bridge with its broken net. But I wasn’t terrified like the first time. I just wanted to get home. I wanted to give Grandma the news.
In my rush across the bridge I slipped and fell sprawling on my face. For a moment I was nearly sick again. But I jumped up and almost ran to the other side. We pelted back along the cliffs to the house.
I burst into the kitchen. ‘Grandma,’ I shouted. ‘I’ve found Grandad’s watch.’
No smile. She didn’t even look at it. ‘You shouldn’t have gone,’ she said. ‘It was too dangerous. And anyway, his watch stopped ticking long ago.’
‘No,’ I yelled. ‘It didn’t. It’s still going.’
‘Because you put it on your wrist,’ said Grandma. ‘That has wound it up. It’s not the same. It stopped ticking.’
>
‘It didn’t,’ I shouted. ‘Look, it’s showing the right time.’
Grandma took the watch from my outstretched hand. ‘You didn’t reset it?’
‘No.’
‘But it’s been over a month. How could it have kept ticking all that time?’
She smiled when I told her. The biggest smile ever. And I knew her heart would go on ticking for a long time to come.
‘Grandad strapped it onto a branch of the tree,’ I said. ‘The wind kept it moving.’
Outside the clouds scudded across the sky. A sudden strong gust hit the house and made a terrible tremble.
‘I love the wind,’ I said.
The Hat
‘I’ll jump,’ I screamed. ‘I will. I really will. I mean it.’
I stared down at the water churned up by the ferry’s huge propeller. Would I fall straight on top of those terrible blades? Would I end up as just a brief red smudge in the ocean? Would I really jump?
Or was I bluffing?
Dad didn’t know. ‘Don’t, Jason. Please don’t,’ he said.
‘Then stop the ferry. Get my hat.’
Most of the passengers were tourists on their way to look at the coral and fish of the Great Barrier Reef. They stared at this real-life drama with wide-open eyes.
‘Let him jump,’ said a man in a Hawaiian shirt. ‘A soaking will do him good.’
‘It’s only a hat,’ said the captain. ‘I’m not going back just for that. Time is money. And so is fuel. You should have hung on to it.’
‘It’s his mother’s hat,’ said Dad. ‘She died three weeks ago. He’s not himself.’
I stared at the Akubra hat bobbing way off in the distance. It was upside down, floating like a tiny round boat. Soon it would be out of sight.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the captain. ‘But we’re running on tight margins. We can’t stop every time a hat blows overboard. It happens all the time.’
I let go of the rails with one of my hands and dangled out over the sea. ‘I’m going,’ I yelled. ‘I’m going to swim back and get it.’
Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories Page 11