Shining On by Lois Lowry Page A

Mascarpone.”
    They sat down to lunch and Jess consumed approximately ten thousand calories, after which she began to feel a bit better. But after the washing-up, Granny's mood changed.
    “I suppose we'd better start on it,” she said with a sigh. “What do you think? We could go at it for a couple of hours, then watch
Pulp Fiction
for a bit of light relief.”
    “OK, fine,” said Jess, though her heart was sinking fast. She'd been dreading this moment. Absolutely dreading it. Maybe Granny would burst into tears. What then? Granny led the way upstairs and into her bedroom. Then she sat down on the bed and sighed.
    “Open his wardrobe, dear,” she said. Beside the big wardrobe was a much smaller one, which Jess towered over. And this tiny but sinister cupboard was where Jess's grandpahad kept all his clothes. He had died six months ago and Granny had told Mum she hadn't been able to open the cupboard since.
    Glamorous way to spend the weekend,
thought Jess. She hesitated for a moment and then opened the cupboard. Thank God it was daylight. If it had been dark, Grandpa's ghost might have come swooping out like a sudden gust of dark, tobacco-scented air.
    Nothing like that happened. There were just some suits hanging there, and an old camel-colored jacket. It all smelled a bit fusty.
    “So all this is going to the charity shop, right, Granny?” asked Jess. She was poised to sweep the whole lot off their hangers and into bin liners.
    “Yes—no, wait!” said Granny, looking a bit emotional. Her lip quivered. “That jacket—give it here a minute.” Jess passed the camel-colored jacket to her, and Granny sort of fondled it tenderly for a minute.
    Please, God,
thought Jess urgently,
make her not hug or kiss it. Please!
Granny went through the pockets. She found a couple of coins, a hankie and a lottery ticket. The hankie was crumpled and definitely not clean. Jess wondered if there were any of Grandpa's old bogies hiding within it and if so, whether Granny would put them in a locket and wear them round her neck. A huge bubble of emotion swelled up behind Jess's throat. She was moments away from uttering a tortured scream—or maybe a hysterical laugh.
    “Do you think that's a winning lottery ticket?” said Jess. “Grandpa's last stroke of genius.” Immediately she wished she hadn't used the word
stroke.
It was a stroke that had caused Grandpa's death.
    “He was hopeless at the lottery,” said Granny, smoothing the ticket out. “This ticket's past its cut-off date, any-way. And in any case, I'd rather have him back here for just five minutes than all the money in the world.”
    Suddenly, disastrously, a tear burst from Granny's right eye and ran down her withered old cheek. Jess felt an un-bearable urge to run away. She
so
didn't want to get old like Granny. The wrinkles, the funny little bits of skin hanging down below her chin, and the awful sadness …
    At this most tactless moment, her mobile phone played a vulgar little pinging riff to indicate a text message had arrived.
    “Excuse me a minute, Granny,” said Jess, diving for the phone. The text was from her best mate, Flora. SO WISH U WERE COMING 2 JODIE S PARTY, said the text. CAN T DECIDE WHAT 2 WEAR. WHADDAYA FINK? TART OR GYPSY?
    TART EVERY TIME, Jess texted back.
    Within seconds Flora had replied to her reply. BTW, TIFFANY SAID HER BRO JACK ASKED IF YOU D BE THERE! Hastily Jess composed a reply. THANK GOD I'M GLAMOR-OUSLY ABSENT THEN. GOTTA GO—GRANNY IN TEARS.
    She whizzed off the text and switched off her mobile, though it was agonizing to sever her link with her world oftarty togs and torrid parties. Now she had to sink back into the gray and weary world of old age and bereavement. She sat down on the bed and put her arm round Granny. She really did love her. She just wished she wasn't a sad old lady.
    Granny blew her nose loudly on Grandpa's hankie, then tucked it away in her sleeve.
    “Sorry, dear,” she said. “That sounded a bit like an