Stargazing for Beginners Page 17

  ‘I’ve got a text from Grandad, but I’m too scared to open it.’ I feel the warmth of his shoulders as they brush against mine.

  ‘He wouldn’t text bad news!’

  ‘He might,’ I say. ‘My grandad doesn’t always think things through.’

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ he says, nudging me, so I take a breath, and open the text.

  I smile. It’s good news. The best news! ‘Listen to this,’ I say. ‘Alice just rang. The village she’s staying in was hit by the quake, but she’s fine. She’s helping them out, then coming home. Phew!!! –’

  ‘Hang on, he actually wrote “phew”?’

  ‘With three exclamation marks.’ I read the rest of the message. ‘She had to borrow a phone and she rang me as she could only make a quick call. Whoopy doop!!’

  ‘Whoopy doop?’ says Ed.

  I grin. ‘Whoopy doop!’

  ‘Ed!’ comes a shout from the bottom of the slope. It’s Raj and he’s bouncing a football up and down. ‘Come on!’

  ‘I’d better go,’ he says, but he stays next to me, pulling up bits of grass.

  ‘Thank you for the facts,’ I blurt out. ‘They really helped.’

  He shrugs. ‘That’s OK … But I never did help you with that equation.’

  ‘Annie’s friend worked it out.’ The sun is so bright, I have to shade my eyes to look at him.

  ‘Right.’ He sweeps the bits of grass off his trousers then jumps to his feet. ‘See you later,’ he says, then he jogs down the slope.

  I look back at my list of what Meg doesn’t know. I’ve got something else to add to it: What does Ed really think about Meg? Along with whether life exists on other planets and what the universe is made of, Ed’s opinion of me is one of my top ten mysteries of the cosmos. But there is a difference. I’d love to find out that little green aliens are running around on some planet, but I’m not sure I want to know about Ed. There’s something really good about this mystery. Who knew ignorance could be so enjoyable?

  FORTY-NINE

  For the rest of the week, two things dominate my life: money and the NASA competition. Grandad and I haven’t got enough of the first and I haven’t got enough time to do the second. Grandad’s pension is coming through on Friday, but by Wednesday we’ve only got one sad little five-pound note left. I’ve counted all of Elsa’s nappies and unless she eats something seriously dodgy, I shouldn’t have to buy any more. Grandad and I both agree that the only thing we can spend money on is milk and fruit for Elsa.

  So Grandad and I live off the food we already have. That night we have sweetcorn and mayonnaise toasties, on Wednesday we have pasta cooked in soup and Thursday sees us eating our worst dinner yet: rice and baked beans. Grandad covers his in chilli powder and claims it’s delicious.

  But on Friday – pension day – when I walk into Grandad’s house with Elsa, I’m hit by an amazing smell.

  ‘Curry!’ shouts Grandad from the kitchen. I find him pulling cartons out of a plastic bag. ‘Tonight we eat like kings, Meg!’

  I start peeling back the cardboard lids; steam bursts off saffron-specked rice and crisp pakoras. ‘Are we celebrating having money again?’

  ‘No, we’re celebrating you completing your mission.’ He bangs plates down on the table. ‘Your mum rang. She’s at the airport about to get on a plane.’

  I look up at him. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously.’ He pours Coke into a glass for me. ‘And we’re celebrating you beating all those other kids in that competition tomorrow and going to Houston.’ He looks up at me and gives me a quick smile. ‘You know your mum won’t make it back on time to watch, don’t you? She’s got two changes to make.’

  ‘I know. That’s OK.’ Mum’s managed to ring a few times throughout the week, but always when I’ve been at school. It’s hard to believe she’s actually on her way home. I look up at Grandad. ‘Actually,’ I say, trying to sound as casual as possible, ‘I’ve got some friends coming.’

  ‘Have you now!’ Grandad’s intrigued.

  ‘It’s not that big a deal,’ I say, laughing, although of course I know it is a big deal. I don’t think I’ve mentioned a single friend since Harriet left. ‘You know how I told you about Biscuit Club? Well, they’re all coming – Annie, Rose, Jackson, even my teacher Mr Curtis.’

  ‘Meg, that’s brilliant,’ says Grandad. ‘And you’ll have me and Elsa too, watching you up on that stage, cheering you on.’

  I was starving a second ago, but now I feel slightly queasy. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it, Grandad.’ I sit down. ‘I ran through my whole speech today with Rose …’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I remembered every word.’ Rose has spent each lunchtime this week helping me build my memory palace.

  ‘But that’s good news!’ Grandad says.

  ‘I was like a talking textbook …’ I say. ‘Are my hands shaking?’ I hold them out in front of me. ‘They are!’

  Grandad puts Elsa in her high chair and gives her a bowl full of curry and rice. Her hands plunge straight in. ‘I’ve got the answer for that.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Clench your buttocks. It’s almost physically impossible for your hands to shake if you tighten your thigh or buttock muscles.’

  I can’t resist trying it out. ‘Hey, it works!’

  ‘There we go.’

  ‘But I’m still nervous; you just can’t see my physical symptoms any more!’

  ‘Tell yourself it isn’t nerves, it’s excitement.’ He pulls a naan bread out of a bag and tears it in half. ‘You’re excited because you’re about to do something amazing.’

  ‘No, I’m fairly certain I’m just really nervous because tomorrow I’m going to have to walk on to a stage –’ I pause here to take a breath ‘– look at a room full of teenagers and adults and deliver a complex speech … from memory.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s so –’

  ‘Exciting!’

  ‘Terrifying!’

  Grandad has to be one of the most optimistic people in the world. As we eat, I go obsessively over our arrangements for tomorrow. The competition starts at two, so I’m going to spend the morning relaxing with Elsa and Pongo (ha!) then drop the two of them off at Grandad’s after lunch so I can get to school early. Grandad and Elsa will come along just before it starts.

  ‘I’m not sure about Elsa coming,’ I say. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate if I can hear her crying.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll take her straight out if she makes a fuss.’

  The curry is delicious, but after a few more mouthfuls I put my fork down.

  ‘Look,’ says Grandad, ‘you’re so excited you can’t eat!’

  FIFTY

  ‘Cards, phone, water, nappies, Annie’s paper poo bear …’ As I walk to Grandad’s, I run through everything I need, even though I already checked and double-checked my bags at the flat. ‘Elsa, Pongo …’ I mutter, gripping the pushchair a bit tighter and checking that Pongo’s lead is still wrapped around my wrist. He saw a squirrel a minute ago and nearly pulled us over trying to get at it.

  In an unexpected role-reversal, last night Elsa slept the whole night through, but I woke up every couple of hours. This morning I took it easy. Elsa and I had a mammoth Peppa Pig session then we took Pongo for a quick walk at the rec. I didn’t look at my speech once. I thought it would only make me nervous.

  One thing I must remember to do at Grandad’s is go to the toilet. When Yuri Gagarin was on his way to the space shuttle – all suited up – he made them stop the bus so he could do a wee at the side of the road. All cosmonauts leaving from Baikonur do this now and I can see why Gagarin started the tradition: doing something ‘exciting’ makes you want to wee. Simple as that.

  Grandad’s front door is unlocked as usual. ‘Grandad!’ I shout. There’s no answer, so I pull the pushchair inside and shout again. I stick my head in the front room, but he’s not there. The house is eerily quiet so I run upstairs then check the garden. Where is he? Worry prickles thr
ough me, but I tell myself he must have popped to the Co-op or gone to visit a neighbour. There’s no way Grandad could have forgotten what is happening today.

  I decide to see if he’s left a note for me somewhere. There’s nothing in any of the usual places – on the fridge or the kitchen table – so I go to look in the front room. There’s no note, but tucked behind the door I see a huge white cone. I run my hands over the peeling paint. I know what this is: it’s the top half of the rocket he made me. I trace my hands over the words MEGARA 1 and for a moment, I forget that Grandad’s missing … I even forget about the speech. Grandad gave me the rocket years ago and I spent hours in it, playing and dreaming … I didn’t even know he’d kept it. I pick up the cone to see if my mission notes are still scribbled on the inside, and that’s when I see a tiny glass bottle filled with amber liquid sitting underneath it. Meg’s Rocket Fuel! is written on a label tied on with string.

  I smile. Russian cosmonauts always drink a sip of real rocket fuel before a mission; it’s supposed to bring them luck. I don’t know what Grandad’s put in the bottle, but I’m guessing he was going to get me to drink it before I went to school. But why was it sitting under the cone? I slip the bottle in my pocket and go back into the hallway where Elsa’s squirming in her pushchair.

  And that’s when I notice Grandad’s bike is missing.

  He wouldn’t have gone for a bike ride, would he? Not today …? I ring his mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail. ‘Grandad’s gone for a bike ride,’ I say to Elsa, hardly believing the words myself. ‘What shall I do?’ I go to the front door and peer up and down the road.

  ‘Da!’ she shouts.

  I go back inside. ‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘We should wait. I’ve still got loads of time until I need to be at school. Wherever he’s gone, he’ll be back soon. He knows how important this is.’ I undo the clips on her pushchair and she wriggles out on to the carpet. ‘Actually, this is good. Now I can read through my cards one last time.’

  But I can’t read through my cards. I try to, but every few minutes I keep jumping up to look out of the window, searching for Grandad’s yellow helmet. After half an hour, I realise that I can’t wait for him any longer.

  ‘OK,’ I say to Elsa, pushing her arms back into her coat. ‘I don’t know what Grandad was thinking, but I guess I’m just going to have to take you with me. The Biscuit Club will have to look after you.’ I put her back in her pushchair.

  ‘Na, na!’ Elsa makes herself go rigid so I can’t get the pushchair straps round her arms.

  ‘Bend, Elsa!’ I tickle her tummy until she doubles over and I manage to get the clips done up. But now I’ve made her mad, and she’s screaming.

  And that’s when Grandad’s landline starts to ring.

  ‘Be quiet!’ I say to Elsa and I snatch up the phone, covering my free ear to block out her cries.

  ‘Meg?’ The voice is crackly, distant.

  ‘Grandad? Is that you?’

  ‘Meg, thank goodness I caught you! But shouldn’t you be at school by now?’

  ‘Yes! The competition starts in twenty minutes! Where are you?’

  ‘Ah, I’m in a spot of bother. I was out on my bike –’

  ‘Grandad!’ I shout this so loud that Elsa stops screaming and stares up at me. ‘Why did you have to go on a bike ride today?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t a bike ride exactly. I was so excited last night that I couldn’t sleep and then I remembered that I still had your rocket up in the attic. I thought it would be brilliant if you walked into the house and saw it sitting there, in all its magnificence! I’ve even made you some rocket fuel and I was going to hide the bottle inside the cone –’

  ‘I found the cone and the bottle,’ I say, interrupting him, ‘but what’s that got to do with going on a bike ride?’

  ‘Ah, that’s what I was getting to. I discovered that the bottom of the rocket – the box you sat in – had been eaten – possibly by hamsters, possibly by rats – so I decided to go and get another one from the supermarket. They gave me a real beauty, Meg. It’s even bigger than the original one. Anyway, I was cycling back through the woods, holding the box under one arm, when it happened.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I hit a root. When I came round, my ankle was the size of a football. I’m having a bit of trouble walking.’

  ‘When you came round? Grandad, where are you?’

  ‘I’m at the bottom of the quarry – you should have seen me fly down it, Meg!’

  ‘So you’re not too far away –’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. You get down to your school and win the competition.’ The line crackles and for a moment I can’t hear what he’s saying. The reception is terrible on the Downs. ‘Come and get me later … Maybe bring a friend or two. I’m going to need a couple of people to lean on.’

  I press the phone against my ear. ‘If you’ve had a head injury, I can’t leave you up there.’

  ‘It was a tiny head injury! I’ve got a Lion Bar and a Fruit Shoot, so you can stop worrying about me. You are going to blow their minds about space, Meg, and you are going to go to Houston. That’s your new mission! Poyekhali, Meg! Poyek–’

  Then he’s cut off.

  I take a deep breath, fighting the panic that’s rising inside me. This is unexpected, but I can work the problem, as long as I stay calm. Should I do what he says and go to school, do my presentation and then go and find him? No. I can’t do that. What if he slips unconscious again, or if he was lying about how badly he was hurt? But how can I possibly go and get him without anyone to help me, and what should I do with Elsa?

  Just as I’m considering ringing 999, my mobile rings and I snatch it up. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Where are you, you nutter?’

  ‘Annie!’

  ‘Rose and I are sitting here, the hall is full, the contestants are all here … well, except you, of course. Meg, your massively important life-changing competition is about to start!

  ‘I know, but listen, I’ve got a problem.’ Quickly, I explain that Grandad has managed to get stuck in a hole. ‘Do you think I should call for an ambulance?’

  ‘No, if you get involved with all that you’ll definitely miss the competition.’

  ‘Annie, what sort of person leaves an old man with a head injury up on the Downs just so they can try to win a free holiday?’ My throat feels tight and I swallow to stop myself from crying.

  ‘Get a grip, Clark,’ says Annie. ‘Your grandad’s not an idiot. If he was that badly hurt he’d have rung for an ambulance himself. Just tell me where he is.’

  ‘He’s at the bottom of the old quarry, the one by Paynters Lane … Why?’

  ‘Because I’m going to get him out of there. Well, not me personally, but don’t worry about that. You just get to school. I can look after Elsa while you do your speech.’

  ‘No, he’s my grandad. I should go and find him.’

  ‘Meg, I’m your captain, or whatever it’s called –’

  ‘CAPCOM.’

  ‘That’s it. I’m CAPCOM Demos, and you’re going to do exactly what I say. I’m going to talk you through your launch, got it?’

  I nod. ‘Got it.’

  ‘Right,’ she says. ‘Get your arse to school.’ Then the line goes dead.

  FIFTY-ONE

  ‘Where have you been?’ Ms Edgecombe meets me in the foyer outside the hall. ‘And why have you brought a baby?’

  ‘Long story,’ I manage to say, hanging over the handles of the pushchair to catch my breath. Running with a pushchair is hard, but at least all the jiggling has sent Elsa to sleep. ‘Have you seen Annie Demos?’

  ‘She’s in the hall somewhere,’ says Ms Edgecombe. ‘But don’t worry about your friends, Meg. It’s about to start!’

  She ushers me into the noisy, packed hall. Little brothers and sisters are darting around, grandmothers are sitting with handbags clutched on laps; there are so many people some are having to stand at the back. Up on the stage, I see a row of
chairs, and in front of these a microphone with a spotlight shining down on it. My head is already spinning from the run, but I still feel a wave of anxiety sweep through me.

  ‘I need to speak to Annie,’ I say, desperately searching through the crowd.

  Miss grips my arm. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve registered. Come with me.’

  She guides me down the centre aisle, right through the heart of the audience. ‘Here’s Meg Clark,’ says Ms Edgecombe, delivering me to a table set up at the foot of the stage. ‘Better late than never!’

  ‘You’re just in time,’ says the woman, her eyes flicking over Elsa. She hands me a sticker. ‘You’re contestant number fifteen. Please stand with the other contestants so that we can begin.’ A group of teenagers are waiting at the foot of the stage. Most are wearing uniforms but some, like me, are wearing their own clothes. Right at the back of the group, I see Ed, in a shirt and tie of course. His arms are folded and he’s watching me curiously. He gives me a wave and I manage to smile back.

  I have to find Annie, but Ms Edgecombe insists on leading me straight over to the other contestants. ‘Right, you stay here,’ she says, depositing me next to Ed. She nods at Elsa. ‘What are you going to do with the baby?’

  ‘That’s why I need to find Annie; she’s looking after her.’

  Just then, I hear ‘Meg!’ bellowed from the other side of the hall, and then I see Annie, Jackson and Rose weaving through the crowd towards me.

  ‘Good,’ says Ms Edgecombe. ‘For a moment I thought you were going to ask me to mind her, but I’m filming all the speeches.’

  I turn back to look at her. ‘You’re doing what?’

  ‘Filming the speeches.’ She laughs. ‘I didn’t tell you about it earlier because I didn’t want you obsessing over it – I knew you’d freak out. They’re all going online.’ Ms Edgecombe gives me a final pat on the shoulder. ‘Good luck up there,’ she says. ‘You too, Ed. Show these other kids what a bloody amazing science teacher you’ve got!’