Granny by Anthony Horowitz Page A

“Ooh!” he exclaimed. “I been to see the doctor today and he goes on about someone called Arthur Itis. Arthur Itis? I never heard of him.”
    â€œPlease, Mr. Lampy…”
    Mr. Lampy smiled. He was a very old man, and when he smiled, his face folded into a hundred creases. He had spent his whole life out of doors. In ten years in the navy he had never once gone belowdecks—all the more remarkable when you consider that he served on a submarine. “I haven’t seen your granny and I don’t intend to see her,” he went on. He leaned down and picked up the gas can. “I reckon she’ll be leaving the two of us alone.”
    Joe watched as Mr. Lampy walked away. He wasn’t convinced, but there seemed to be no point in arguing anymore. The last thing he saw of Mr. Lampy was the old gardener leaning over a great pile of wood chips and leaves, sprinkling it with gas from the can. He didn’t see Mr. Lampy light the match.
    The explosion could be heard thirty miles away and at first the police thought it was a terrorist attack. Like Mrs. Jinks before him, nothing was found of Mr. Lampy—which was hardly surprising. He had blown a crater fifteen feet deep in the earth. Four trees, the rockery, the garden shed, and the moles went with him, blown into so many pieces that it was quite impossible to say what belonged to what. One question puzzled everyone. How had Mr. Lampy managed to sprinkle nitroglycerin on his bonfire? And how had it gotten into what should have been a can of gas?
    The investigation led nowhere. One witness did come forward claiming that he had seen a figure climbing over the fence into the garden of Thattlebee Hall. But as the witness had been on his way back from the pub and as he insisted that the figure he had seen had been a woman, and one who was over ninety years old, his evidence was discounted.
    A few days later, Mr. and Mrs. Warden left for their apartment in the South of France.
    The same day, Granny moved in.

6
    GATHERING OF THE GRANNIES
    B reakfast was cream cheese.
    Lunch was cream cheese.
    Tea was more cream cheese.
    After just one day, Joe was the color of cream cheese. The house had never felt so big and he had never felt so small. His parents were away in another country. Mrs. Jinks and Mr. Lampy were dead. There was just Joe and Granny and he knew with a horrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was completely in her power.
    Of course Granny was enjoying every minute of it, moving around the house, warbling to herself like a sick canary as she glued shut the windows and turned up the heat. By lunchtime Joe was sweating.
    â€œYou look ill, dear,” Granny trilled.
    â€œI’m hot.”
    â€œIt must be the flu. You’d better have two spoonfuls of cod-liver oil. Better still, I’ll go to the fishmongers and buy you a whole cod’s liver.”
    That afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Warden telephoned from the South of France. Although Joe was in the room, they didn’t ask to speak to him. Instead, Mrs. Warden gabbled down the phone to Granny at twice her usual speed. She always did this to save money on long-distance calls.
    â€œAre you sure everything’s all right, Mumsy?” she asked.
    â€œDon’t you worry, dear. Jasper and I are having a wonderful time. He’s no trouble at all!”
    â€œThere is one thing, Mummy. Could you put an ad in The Lady for a new nanny? We’ll have to have one when we get back.”
    â€œOh, Jack won’t be needing a new nanny…”
    Joe heard the words. They sent a shiver down his spine.
    â€œMummy…?”
    Granny was holding the telephone in a clawlike hand. She smiled into it. “Lovely talking to you, dear. Must go!” The smile evaporated. Granny hung up.
    Granny made a number of telephone calls after that, but Joe was pretty certain that none of them were to The Lady. She was careful to close the door before she began, but Joe did