Bia's War Read Free

pink bed
jacket, with her hair nicely brushed and a big smile in place on
her face.
    “It’s my favourite granddaughter
and bringing me breakfast in bed, I see. What have I done to
deserve this special treatment?” Nana said, as Vicky opened the
door.
    “Mam and Dad are going to Aunt
Jessie’s funeral today and Mam’s asked me to sit with you, so that
she knows you’re safe while she’s out.” Vicky answered.
    “Does that mean I’ve done
something to make her think I’m not safe, then? You’d better tell
me, it’ll come better from you than your mother, if she’s in one of
her ‘martyr moods’.”
    “You went out again last night,
in your nightie and with nothing on your feet.” Vicky said. “Don’t
you remember anything about it? That’s why Mam’s worried about you
today and why I’m sitting with you, to make sure you don’t do it
again. Evidently, a policeman found you and took you to the police
station and Mam and Dad brought you home from there. Can’t you
remember any of it?”
    Nana Lymer’s face was creased
with worry.
    “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”
she said. “This is happening more and more often and I can’t
remember any of it. What can I do to stop it? If I carry on like
this then your mother won’t be able to look after me and I’ll have
to go into a home and I don’t want to do that. How can I stop
it?”
    Vicky took hold of Nana’s hand,
distraught that she was causing her so much distress and wishing
that she could do something to alleviate it. An idea formed in her
mind and, although she was reluctant to force her Nana into doing
something which could distress her further, it seemed as though a
way out of this was possible. She gently stroked the frail hand she
was holding, took a deep breath to steady herself and said,
    “The policeman who found you
last night said you kept on saying the name ‘Simon’. He was under
the impression that this Simon was important to you, but he
couldn’t get you to tell him who Simon was. Do you know someone
called Simon? Do you think you could have been looking for
him?”
    The hand she was holding had
jerked as Victoria spoke the name ‘Simon’ and Nana Lymer had
dropped her gaze to the counterpane which her other hand was
kneading as though it was a lump of dough.
    “You do know the name.” Victoria
said, gently. “Who is he and why would you be searching for him in
the middle of the night? If you talk about it, it may help
you.”
    Nana Lymer was silent for so
long that Victoria was worried that she had retreated back into the
half-world that she sometimes inhabited, the times when she wasn’t
living in the real world. She was regretting mentioning Simon now,
because Nana Lymer was frowning and there were tears forming in her
eyes.
    “He was important to you, this
Simon, wasn’t he?” Victoria said, lowering her head so that she
could look into Nana’s eyes. “I don’t want to upset you, but don’t
you agree that it might help if you talked about him? I won’t tell
anyone else, if you don’t want me to, I promise.”
    Nana was silent for a couple of
minutes, but then she raised her head and looked Victoria straight
in the eye.
    “It’s not a nice story, what
happened to Simon, and it goes back a long time. I thought I’d got
over it years and years ago, but obviously I haven’t, otherwise I
wouldn’t be wandering the streets looking for him now, when, in my
right mind, I know I’ll never see him again. But I don’t know if
you are strong enough or old enough to hear a story the like of
this.”
    “I’m fifteen, Nana; I’ll be
sixteen next month. I’m not a child and if it helps you it would be
worth it wouldn’t it?”
    “Yes, I suppose you’re right,
but I don’t want you to tell anyone else what I’m going to tell
you.” Nana said. “And, I’m only telling you so that I can lay this
ghost to rest and make it easier for your mother to care for me.
Promise me you won’t tell a soul what I tell