Stand by Me Read online

  Dedication

  For Dan, Brian, Ellen & Annie.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Other Books by Judi Curtin

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  ‘Bye, Mollikins. Talk soon. Love you.’

  ‘Dad? Are you ever going to stop calling me Mollikins?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Bye, Dad, love you too.’

  I clicked off the call, and lay down on my bed. Facetiming my dad is always really nice, but I can’t help feeling sad when it’s time to say goodbye. I hadn’t seen Dad for ages and ages, and even though I’m often mad at him, I really, really miss him. The first tears were coming to my eyes when Beth flung the door open and threw herself on to the bed beside me.

  ‘You’ve been talking to your dad, haven’t you?’ she said.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Wild guess,’ she said pointing to my eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Moll – it sucks having your dad living so far away.’

  It was nice of her to say that. She was right, it did suck having my dad so far away, but her mum is dead, and that has to be a million times worse.

  Beth hugged me and then she jumped up. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some pocket-money left. How about I buy us both ice-creams?’

  ‘Sounds like an excellent plan. Let’s go.’

  * * *

  We were nearly at the shop when we heard the sound of cheeps and quacks coming along behind us. It was so loud – it was like a riot in a bird sanctuary. ‘OMG! What on earth is that noise?’ said Beth By the time we turned around, the noise was right next to us.

  ‘Hi, girls,’ said a familiar voice over the quacking noise. ‘How nice to see you.’

  ‘Graham!’ said Beth. ‘What are you doing? I didn’t even know you were back from your holidays.’

  ‘I just got back last night – it was a wonderful trip – one of the best ever.’

  Graham smiled at us and tossed his head to get his long hair out of his huge dark-brown eyes. He’s tall and skinny and he was wearing ripped denim jeans, and a t-shirt with a picture of his favourite rock band. He was carrying a huge shopping bag – not that unusual really, except that the bag was wriggling and shaking like it was alive.

  ‘Please don’t say that awful noise is coming from your bag,’ said Beth.

  ‘What have you got inside there?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s just a mother duck and her babies,’ Graham said casually, like the bag held nothing more special than a loaf of bread and a carton of milk. ‘They were lost on a very busy road, so I rescued them from certain death, and now I’m bringing them to the pond where they’ll be safe.’

  ‘That’s really nice of you,’ said Beth, laughing. ‘But what is it about you? How come you always show up when weird stuff happens?’

  ‘I wasn’t the only one who showed up,’ he said. ‘Lots of people were there.’

  ‘And why didn’t they help?’ I asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ said Graham. ‘Some of them ignored the ducks, but others stopped to take photos and then left the poor creatures to their fate.’

  ‘That’s really mean,’ I said.

  ‘Can Molly and I come to the pond with you?’ asked Beth.

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Graham. ‘We can rescue this little family together.’

  * * *

  At the pond, Graham put down the bag and the mother duck tumbled out, shaking herself and ruffling her feathers. She quacked loudly, and five totally adorable, fluffy little ducklings rolled out of the bag and waddled out after her. Then all six flung themselves into the water, like they’d never seen anything so amazing. The mother looked back at us for a second and quacked.

  ‘She’s thanking you, Graham,’ said Beth. ‘She knows you saved her family.’

  Then the mother and her babies swam off, and seconds later they were hidden in the clumps of weeds in the middle of the pond.

  ‘Molly and I were on our way to the shop to buy ice-cream,’ said Beth. ‘Do you want to come?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Graham. ‘But first there’s something I have to do – I always do it when I come to this park.’

  I couldn’t help feeling excited. I don’t know what the opposite of boring is, but whatever it is, that’s the best word to describe Graham.

  We followed him up the short steep hill to where the monument is. Then he stood for a second letting the wind blow through his long hair.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ asked Beth.

  ‘This!’ said Graham, as he flung himself down on the grass and rolled down to the bottom of the hill.

  I looked at Beth for a second.

  Weren’t we too old for rolling down hills?

  What would Mum say if we got grass stains on our clothes?

  What if there was dog poo – which had to be the grossest thing in the world?

  But then I looked at Graham, who was sitting on the grass below us, breathless and laughing like a little kid.

  ‘Last one down’s an idiot,’ I said, and then Beth and I rolled to the bottom of the hill where we lay on our backs and looked at the sky and laughed till we felt sick.

  ‘You know you’re crazy, right, Graham?’ said Beth when she got her breath back.

  ‘Thank you, Beth,’ said Graham. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.’

  Beth was right. Graham is crazy. He’s the craziest nearly-seventy-year-old I’ve ever met.

  * * *

  Graham is Beth’s dad’s uncle. He always wears jeans and t-shirts and when it’s cold he puts on weird jumpers he buys in a village at the top of a mountain no one’s ever heard of, somewhere in South America. He knows about nature and art and music and films and books and sport. He travels the world for months at a time, and we never know when he’s going to show up at his tiny little house not far from where we live. He’s the most fun person I’ve ever known.

  * * *

  On the way to the shop, we passed the animal shelter.

  ‘Let’s go in for just one second,’ begged Graham, like he was the kid and Beth and I were the adults. ‘I love to see the puppies and kittens.’

  So we followed him inside and for twenty minutes we petted and stroked every kind of furry creature we could see.

  On the way out we passed a poster saying ‘ALL DONATIONS WELCOME – PLEASE SUPPORT OUR WORK.’ Graham dug around in his pockets and put all the money he could find into the collection bucket.

  ‘Hey, Molly,’ said Beth. ‘How badly do you want the ice-cream I promised you?’

  I actually wanted it fairly badly – in my head I’d already chosen the chocolate brownie and salted caramel flavours. I could already almost taste the creamy coldness and the squishy caramel pieces on my tongue – but then I saw the huge eyes of a darling little puppy staring at me from the poster and I shook my head.

  ‘Who needs ice-cream?’ I said, and then I helped Beth to put the coins through the slot.

  That’s the weird thing about Graham – h
e’s wild and crazy and funny, but there’s also something else about him – just being with him makes you want to be a better person.

  Chapter Two

  ‘That carrot cake is totally delicious, Charlotte,’ said Beth after lunch. ‘Thanks so much for making it.’

  ‘Anything for you, my little pet,’ said Mum. ‘I know it’s your favourite.’

  I rolled my eyes. I know Mum loves me more than she will ever love Beth, but things changed when Beth and her dad came to live with us. Since then, Mum and Beth have been getting closer and closer, and sometimes I can’t help feeling a small bit jealous. Sometimes, when Mum makes carrot cake instead of my favourite chocolate one, I feel like she’s choosing Beth over me. (I know that’s unreasonable, but I can’t help it – I’m just a kid.)

  ‘Anyone for a second slice?’ asked Beth’s dad, Jim. ‘There’s lots left.’

  We all shook our heads – the slices he’d served first time around were ginormous, and even a carrot cake fiend like Beth couldn’t force down another crumb.

  ‘I know!’ I said. ‘Why don’t Beth and I bring a slice over to Graham? He loves carrot cake too – must be a family thing.’

  ‘You’re not just trying to get out of doing the washing up?’ said Mum, and I felt like jumping up and down and stamping my foot like a toddler in a tantrum. I was trying to do a nice thing, so why did Mum have to think I was being selfish?

  Maybe Mum noticed smoke coming out of my ears or something, because she leaned over and hugged me. ‘That’s a very kind thought, Molly,’ she said. ‘You’re a sweet girl. Off you go.’

  * * *

  ‘You darling girls,’ said Graham when he opened the front door. ‘And carrot cake too – all my dreams have just come true!’

  Beth and I followed Graham into the living room at the back of his house.

  ‘I’ll get us some tea,’ he said. ‘You two sit down and make yourselves comfortable.’

  I tried not to smile. There were lots of places to sit in Graham’s living room, but none of them looked very comfortable. There was an ancient lumpy old couch, two wobbly stools, and an armchair that would’ve been quite nice except for the rusty springs sticking out all over. I chose the safest-looking stool, and Beth sat on the edge of the couch.

  While Graham clattered about in the kitchen, I looked around the room. The shelves in the corner were piled up with books, and there were more piles of books on the floor and the windowsill. The fireplace and the table were packed with colourful sculptures from all over the world. In the middle of the floor was a huge open box, and we could see more ornaments poking out of the shredded-paper packing.

  ‘I guess Graham’s been treasure hunting again,’ said Beth looking at the box. ‘Where’s he even going to put all these new things?’

  ‘No idea,’ I said. ‘I totally love this house, but there’s one thing I’ve always wondered about.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The house is stuffed with stuff, but there are no pictures or photographs anywhere on the walls.’

  ‘Graham’s house has always been like this – even when I was a tiny kid – I don’t even notice it any more.’

  ‘I know, but don’t you think it’s really weird that––?’

  ‘Really weird that what?’ asked Graham. He was wearing soft leather sandals and I hadn’t heard him come in.

  ‘Oh … er … nothing,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘Here, let me help you with the tray.’

  I jumped up and moved a huge pile of books, so he could put the tray on the table. Then I sat down again and Graham handed out the drinks. Tea isn’t usually the most exciting drink in the world, but in Graham’s house, nothing is ever very usual. The tea was served in tall, narrow, golden-coloured glasses. Instead of a boring old teabag, each glass had a flower floating in it. While I watched, the flowers expanded in the hot water – it was like watching a slow-motion nature film.

  ‘OMG!’ said Beth. ‘That’s the coolest thing ever. Are they real flowers?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Graham. ‘It’s called blooming tea. I picked it up last time I was in China. My good friend Chang makes it. Why don’t you try it and tell me what you think?’

  I sipped my tea. ‘Wow!’ I said. ‘It tastes like strawberry and peach and …’

  ‘It’s like drinking a fruit bowl,’ said Beth. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve ever, ever tasted.’

  Just then the doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be my friend,’ said Graham, jumping up from his wobbly stool and running out to the hall. ‘He said he might drop by today.’

  Beth raised her eyebrows and I knew what she was trying to tell me. Graham has lots and lots of friends and some of them are … interesting.

  A second later, Graham was back. ‘Girls,’ he said. ‘Meet my friend, Charlie.’

  Mum’s forever telling me not to be judgmental, and I really try, but …

  Beth recovered quicker than I did, as she stood up and said ‘hi’ to the homeless man who sleeps at the back of the shopping centre.

  ‘Er … hi, Charlie,’ I said trying not to think of the last time I saw him, digging around in the bins behind the supermarket. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Charlie in a quiet voice. I felt sorry that he had to sit on the armchair with the sticky-out springs, but maybe that seemed comfortable to a man whose bed is a dirty sleeping-bag and a few sheets of cardboard?

  Graham brought some tea for Charlie, and gave him most of the carrot cake, and Charlie kept saying ‘thank you’ over and over again until it started to make me feel sad.

  * * *

  For a bit it was totally awkward, but then, while we sipped our tea, Graham told us about his latest travels, which included visits to Morocco and Tunisia and Greece. Soon I had a pain in my side from laughing. Charlie seemed kind of shy and he didn’t say a whole lot, but he laughed too.

  ‘You’re so funny, Graham,’ I said. ‘I think you could make a trip to the dentist sound interesting.’

  ‘You’re too kind,’ said Graham. ‘But anyway, enough about me – tell me what’s going on for you two girls. How is school?’

  ‘School’s OK, I guess,’ I said. ‘Except for the maths project and the history essay I haven’t even started yet.’

  ‘But you and I should be especially good at history, Molly,’ said Beth.

  ‘Why is that?’ asked Graham.

  I made a face at Beth. I knew she was thinking of our time-travelling trips to the past – and they were supposed to be top secret.

  ‘Oh, no real reason,’ said Beth, looking guilty.

  ‘Oh, well, don’t worry about it,’ said Graham. ‘School is greatly over-rated, in my opinion.’

  I giggled, wondering what my parents would have to say about that.

  We talked for another while, and then Beth jumped up.

  ‘Molly and I have to go. You know how crazy my dad gets when we’re late.’

  Charlie stood up too. ‘It think it’s time for me to …’

  ‘Won’t you stay and have some stew, Charlie?’ said Graham. ‘I made too much as usual.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you,’ said Charlie in a hoarse voice.

  ‘Er … goodbye, Charlie,’ I said. ‘It was really nice to meet you.’ And then I looked away quickly because I was fairly sure he was getting ready to cry.

  Graham walked us to the door.

  Beth hugged him. ‘You’re a very kind man,’ she said.

  ‘Not at all. Not at all,’ he said, embarrassed. Then he changed the subject quickly. ‘Look at what arrived while I was away,’ he said, pointing at a huge pile of unopened letters on the hall table. ‘Maybe I should just chuck the whole lot in the fire and pretend I never got them.’

  ‘No way,’ said Beth. ‘You have to open them. There could be amazing good news in one of them, and if you burn them you’ll never know.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Maybe one of those letters is telling you that you won a million euros or something.’
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br />   ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Graham, shoving the letters into a box under the table. ‘I promise I’ll deal with them – some other day.’

  Chapter Three

  The next night, Beth’s dad, Jim, made pasta for dinner. He makes really great pasta, so no one talked much until our plates were almost cleared.

  ‘We should ask Graham to join us for dinner tomorrow evening,’ said Mum as we were scraping up the last of the totally delicious, creamy sauce.

  ‘Yay!’ said Beth and I together. Dinner’s always much more fun when Graham’s around.

  Then I remembered something. ‘Do you know why Graham hasn’t got any pictures on the walls in his house, Jim? There’s not a single picture or photograph or poster – or anything.’

  Jim shook his head. ‘No idea. I’ve been visiting Graham’s house since I was a little boy, and it’s always been like that. I even asked my dad about it once – he was Graham’s brother, you know.’

  ‘And what did your dad say?’ asked Beth.

  ‘He didn’t have a clue either. I wanted to ask Graham if there was a reason, but my dad wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  Jim shook his head. ‘My dad wouldn’t say, but once, when I was a bit older, when Graham was away on his travels, Dad talked a bit more about him.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Mum.

  ‘He said that Graham was much younger than him, but that when he was little, he was a cute, normal kid – always laughing and running around. He said he was a bit of a daredevil.’

  ‘That sounds about right,’ I said, remembering him rolling down the hill, and not caring that everyone in the park was staring at him.

  ‘Graham’s always had a wild streak,’ said Jim. ‘But my dad did say one other thing though.’

  ‘What?’ asked Mum.

  ‘My dad went to work in London when Graham was very young – and he said that at the end of one summer, when Dad came home on holidays, Graham was like a different boy.’

  ‘Different how?’ I asked.

  ‘My dad couldn’t really explain it – even many years later he seemed mystified. He said Graham was unusually quiet that September, and a bit removed from the world – it was almost like a little part of his younger brother had died.’