The Exiles

when they lived here?’
    ‘Any your mother had worth keeping she took back for you people,’ said Big Grandma. ‘Surely you have them at home?’
    ‘Yes, but what about Uncle Robert’s?’ asked Rachel tactlessly.
    ‘Oh, Rachel,’ wailed her three sisters, but Big Grandma did not appear to care whether he was mentioned or not.
    ‘I don’t recall what happened to Robert’s books. There couldn’t have been very many. He wasn’t a great reader. Most of his things went for jumble, I seem to remember, and I got rid of a lot of his personal rubbish. I suppose there might have been the odd book amongst it.’
    ‘What sort of personal rubbish?’
    ‘Oh, comics, papers, pictures and projects from school,’ said Big Grandma casually.
    ‘How’d you get rid of it?’
    ‘Bonfire, I expect. The usual way.’
    Rachel burst into tears at the thought of her own mother stirring a bonfire on which smoked all that she owned.
    ‘She’s just talking like that to be brave,’ whispered Ruth to Naomi.
    ‘Who, Rachel?’
    ‘No, Big Grandma.’
    They watched in silence as their Brave Big Grandma mopped Rachel rather firmly with the kitchen towel.
    ‘Children are beastly when they’re over-tired,’ remarked Big Grandma.
    ‘So’re old ladies,’ commented Phoebe.
    Sensing that perhaps Big Grandma would resent this remark, and not wishing to be involved in any bloodshed, Ruth and Naomi vanished back to their bedroom. Phoebe stood her ground however, and was rewarded with a comradely grin from her grandmother.
    ‘What is the matter with Rachel?’ Big Grandma asked her.
    ‘She’s only gone a bit bonkers,’ explained Phoebe. ‘It doesn’t matter. She often does. So do they,’ she jerked her head towards the staircase. ‘So does everyone, I think.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Big Grandma.
    ‘Except me,’ said Phoebe.
    ‘Go to bed,’ said Big Grandma.

Chapter Five
    Late in the night, carrying in one hand her nightly glass of whisky, and in the other an armload of books from her secret supply, Big Grandma climbed the stairs to bed. For a few minutes she paused outside the doors of her granddaughters’ rooms, listening as they groaned in their sleep, climbing mountains in their nightmares.
    ‘Discipline is what they need,’ she thought as she paused on her way, ‘discipline …’ Naomi stirred and moaned, ‘… fresh air and exercise …’ Rachel heaved a sigh that was almost a sob, ‘… a little hard work …’ Phoebe in her sleep turned suddenly onto her stomach and pushed her head under the pillow, ‘and no skulking in corners reading books all day!’ concluded Big Grandma, and she went into her bedroom, leaving Ruth, who had suddenly jerked upright, staring into the dark with startled, still-dreaming eyes.

    ‘“Owing to circumstances beyond our control”,’ read Big Grandma, ‘“Naomi and me cannot walk this morning. Please get a doctor”.’
    Rachel and Phoebe, unlike their big sisters, had retained the use of their legs despite the mountaineering exercise of the day before, and so had been commissioned to deliver this message.
    ‘Do your legs hurt too?’ Big Grandma asked them, honestly sorry to find that she had disabled her grand-children on their first day with her.
    ‘Very much,’ said Rachel.
    ‘But we can still walk,’ added Phoebe, who was proud of this fact.
    ‘Well, stagger back and give this to Ruth,’ ordered Big Grandma, scrawling, What is this I have found in my fridge ? on the back of the note delivered to her, ‘and tell Naomi I’ll be up to wash and dress her in five minutes.’
    The prescription worked very well. Ruth read Big Grandma’s reply and suddenly remembered the large sheep’s skull, complete with matching shoulder blade that she had stuffed, inadequately wrapped in a plastic bag, beside the butter in the bottom of the refrigerator. The day before she had noticed an abundance of such relics scattered on the fell-side, and had determined, in the interests of natural history, to make a collection of them.
    ‘All such items,’ remarked Big Grandma, handing her a bucket when a few minutes later she hurried into the kitchen to retrieve her unlovely parcel, ‘are to be soaked in Jeyes fluid, dried on the lawn, and stored in the garden shed. You owe me at least a pound of butter, and you can clean the ’fridge after breakfast. Where’s Naomi?’
    ‘I’m here,’ said Naomi, who, not liking the idea of being dressed by Big Grandma, had managed to lever her