Granny by Anthony Horowitz

dear?”
    â€œAaagh!” Joe yelled. For even as Granny had spoken the words, he had felt a terrible explosion of pain. Under the table, a leather-capped shoe had just come into hard contact with his knee.
    â€œI’m sorry, dear?” Granny gazed at him inquiringly.
    â€œYou can’t!” Joe gasped.
    â€œWhat?” Mr. Warden was furious. “Your granny offers to look after you and that’s all you can say?”
    â€œI mean…I mean, it isn’t fair on Granny.” Joe was blushing now. Could he tell the truth? That was what Mrs. Jinks had advised, but looking at his parents now, he knew it was impossible. He forced himself to think. “I’d love to be with Granny,” he went on. “But wouldn’t it be too much work for her? It might make her ill.”
    â€œOh, silly me!” Granny trilled. “I’ve dropped my fork!” She disappeared under the table.
    â€œWait a minute…” Joe began.
    â€œWhat is the matter with you, Jordan?” his mother asked.
    A second later, Joe jerked upright in his seat as three metal prongs buried themselves in his thigh. He had been holding a glass of water, but now he cried out, his hand jerked, and the water sprayed over his father, putting out his cigar.
    â€œHave you lost your mind?” Mr. Warden demanded.
    â€œNo, Father, I…” Joe put down the glass and reached under the table. There were three holes in his trousers—not to mention in his leg.
    â€œI’ll look after him.” Granny was already back in her seat. For someone so old, she had moved incredibly fast. “It would only be for a few weeks. I’m sure we’d have a lot of fun…”
    Joe stared at her. Granny leaned forward and picked up the bread knife: thirteen inches of serrated steel. She looked at him and smiled. Joe shrank back into his chair. When he spoke, his voice was thin and high-pitched. “What about Mr. Lampy?” he quavered.
    â€œWhat about him?” his mother said.
    â€œHe’s a lot younger than Granny. Couldn’t he look after me? That way, you and Father could have your vacation, Granny wouldn’t have to bother about me, and everyone would be happy.”
    Across the table, Granny was gripping the bread knife so tightly that her fingers had gone white and the veins were wriggling under her skin like worms. Joe held his breath, his eyes fixed on the knife.
    â€œI did suggest Mr. Lampy,” Mrs. Warden said.
    â€œMaybe it’s not such a bad idea,” Mr. Warden muttered.
    â€œI think it’s a very good idea…”
    Granny put down the knife. Her lips had gone all wobbly and there were tears brimming in her eyes like rainwater in the folds of a tent. “Well, if you don’t want me,” she burbled. “if you don’t like me…”
    â€œOf course he likes you, Mummy,” Mrs. Warden said. “Jordan was just worried about you, that’s all.”
    â€œI certainly was,” Joe agreed.
    â€œWell, all right.” Granny forced herself to cheer up. “You two get your tickets, then, and have a lovely time.” But then her eyes narrowed and the next words were aimed directly at Joe. “And if anything terrible happens to Mr. Lampy, if he’s unlucky enough to have a dreadful accident in the next few days, just you let me know.”
    Â 
    â€œNow, don’t you worry about me, Master Warden,” Mr. Lampy said.
    It was the morning before Mr. and Mrs. Warden were about to leave. Mr. Lampy had just come out of the shed carrying a can of gasoline. He had been cutting back the shrubbery at the back of the garden and was about to light a bonfire.
    â€œYou and me…we’re going to get along all right.”
    â€œThat’s not what I’m worried about,” Joe replied. “It’s Granny…”
    â€œYou and your granny!” Mr. Lampy set the can down and rubbed the small of his back.