Lizzie Zipmouth Read online

  wouldn't w a n t you to stop enjoying the match."

  I looked at M u m . I knew Great-Gran much better than she did.

  Great-Gran thought football a waste of space. Great-Gran thought she was much more important than any football team in the world. She'd w a n t Rory and J a k e and me to be sitting quietly in our best clothes at 62

  home, worrying about her.

  I was worrying.

  "I want to see Great-Gran," I said.

  "I'm not sure they let young children into the hospital," said M u m .

  Rory and J a k e breathed sighs of relief.

  I cornered S a m when he came

  home that evening. He looked very tired and his eyes were red as if he might have been crying.

  "I'll make you a cup of tea, Sam," I said.

  S a m looked very surprised.

  "It's OK. I can make lovely tea.

  Great-Gran showed me how. And I hold the kettle ever so carefully so I can't scald myself."

  "You're a very clever girl, Lizzie,"

  said Sam. "OK, then, I'd love a cup of tea."

  I made it carefully all by myself.

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  M u m hovered but I wouldn't let her help. I carried the cup of tea in to S a m without spilling a drop.

  "This is delicious tea," said Sam, sipping. "Thank you very much, Lizzie."

  "How is Great-Gran?" I asked.

  "Not very well," said S a m sadly.

  "Is she going to get better?"

  "I hope so."

  " C a n she w a l k and talk yet?"

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  "She's going to have to learn all over a g a i n , like a baby. They're trying to teach her already. But she won't do as she's told."

  I nodded. I couldn't imagine Great-Gran letting anyone tell her what to do.

  " C a n I see her, Sam? Tomorrow?"

  "I . . . I think you might find it a bit upsetting, pet," said Sam.

  "I know I'd find it upsetting," said Rory.

  "Please can I see her, Sam?" I begged.

  "Lizzie, it's probably not a good idea," said M u m .

  "Please, Sam, " I said, clutching his sleeve.

  "OK then, Lizzie, if it's w h a t you really w a n t , " said Sam.

  I hugged him – and sent his cup of tea flying. It went all over his trousers 65

  but he still didn't shout. He hugged me back!

  S a m took me to the hospital to see Great-Gran on Sunday afternoon. I held his hand tightly when we went into the ward. It wasn't the w a y I'd thought it would be. I wanted it to be very white and neat and tidy with nurses in blue dresses and little frilly caps. It was a big strange messy place with sad people slumped in beds or hunched in wheelchairs. One old m a n was crying. I nearly cried too.

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  "Are you sure you're OK, Lizzie?"

  S a m whispered, bending down to me.

  " W e can go straight back home if you want."

  I did want to go home. But I also wanted to see Great-Gran, though I w a s very worried she'd look sad and scary now.

  "I want to see her," I said in a teeny-tiny voice.

  "OK. She's over here," said Sam, and he led me to Great-Gran's bed.

  Sam's hand was

  damp. He seemed

  scared too.

  Great-Gran was lying crookedly on the pillow with her hair sticking up and her eyes shut.

  "Are you asleep, Gran?" said Sam, bending over her.

  Great-Gran's eyes snapped open.

  They were still bright blue. But they weren't gleaming.

  "How are you today, Gran?" said Sam.

  Great-Gran made a cross snorty

  noise. It was obvious she thought it a pretty stupid question.

  "I've brought someone to see you,"

  said Sam. He gave me a gentle tug forward. "Look, it's little Lizzie."

  Great-Gran looked. Then her eyes clouded and water seeped out. She made more cross snorty sounds. Her nose started running. She tried to move but her arm wouldn't work

  properly. She wailed and went gargle-gargle.

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  " W h a t is it, Gran?" S a m said helplessly.

  "She wants a hankie," I said. I found Great-Gran's handbag and got a hankie out. "Here we are. I'll wipe your eyes first. And then your nose.

  And here's your comb. We'll do

  your hair, eh? It's OK. I'm good at doing hair. I do Alice's, don't I?"

  I mopped and wiped and combed.

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  "There!"

  Gran still looked bothered, her head on one side.

  "Do you w a n t to sit up straight?"

  Gran nodded.

  Sam helped me pull her up and tidy her pillow. Gran lay back, straight in the bed, seeming much more herself.

  She looked at me. She opened her mouth. She went gargle-gargle, then sighed in despair.

  "Try again, Gran,' said Sam.

  Gran went gargle-gargle and then wailed.

  "Never mind. Don't upset yourself,"

  said Sam, patting her little clenched hand.

  Gran couldn't stop being upset.

  She went gargle-gargle-gargle-gargle.

  "Don't worry. We'll get you talking soon," said Sam, a tear sliding down his cheek.

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  "We'll get you talking now," I said, taking Great-Gran's other hand.

  "Of course you can talk – if you really want to. Open your mouth!"

  Great-Gran opened her mouth.

  Sam's mouth fell open too.

  "Aha! There's your tongue," I said.

  "And your teeth. So use them, please, Great-Gran. N O W ! "

  "Cheeky little m a d a m ! " said Great-Gran in almost her normal voice.

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  She sounded cross – but she held on to my hand as if she could never let it go.

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  Chapter Eight

  Great-Gran didn't die. She didn't get completely better. She spent three months learning how to w a l k a g a i n .

  She had to use a stick and went very, very slowly with a bad limp. One arm wouldn't work properly any more so for a little while she had to have her food cut up. I did it for her, very neatly. I did her hair too and helped her with her stockings and did her shoes up for her with

  tidy bows.

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  Great-Gran didn't need any further help with talking though! For the first few days in hospital she got her words jumbled up and didn't always make sense but by the time she was ready to come home she talked perfectly. She talked too much, telling the doctors and nurses w h a t to do. They didn't always like it. Great-Gran didn't care.

  Sometimes she got very cross indeed and told them just what she thought of them.

  "Can't you keep your grandmother under control?" one nurse said to Sam.

  S a m rolled his eyes in a funny w a y to show this was completely

  impossible. He tried asking Great-Gran not to be so rude. Great-Gran was very rude indeed to Sam.

  I couldn't help getting the giggles.

  "I think you should try to be 74

  Great-Granny Zipmouth!" I said.

  S a m and M u m and Rory and J a k e and the nurse all gasped. But Great-Gran didn't get cross with me.

  "You're a sparky girl, little Lizzie,"

  she said. "You take after me."

  She forgot she's not my real great-gran. But she's definitely part of my family.

  She still tells me off sometimes though, now she's back in her flat. I don't really mind. It's because she gets tired out now as one of her legs 75

  doesn't work properly. She doesn't like walking very, very slowly with a limp.

  But she can go very, very fast when she's outside because she now has an electric scooter to get her to the shops and back. Rory and Jake think Great-Gran's scooter is seriously cool. They keep begging Great-Gran to let them drive it but she won't hear of it.

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  I haven't got a real sister. Or a real brother. But today I was getting two new sort-of
brothers, Rory and Jake.

  I didn't like them much.

  I w a s getting a stepdad too. He was called Sam. I didn't call him anything.

  I didn't like him at all.

  I frowned at my mum. I took hold of a little clump of her hair and pulled.

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  "But she's not going to live in the trunk with them," said Great-Gran.

  "We'll have to get your dad to build her a special shelf."

  My dad? Then I realized she

  meant Sam.

  "He's good at making shelves," I said. "He's made special little shelves for all my mum's CDs."

  Great-Gran snorted. She still isn't all that keen on my mum. M u m isn't all that keen on Great-Gran, come to that. It doesn't matter. I can like them both. And Rory. And J a k e .

  And even Sam. Sometimes.

  They all like me too. Especially Great-Gran.

  " W h a t are we going to call the new doll, Great-Gran? I've got a good name for her! Rosebud."

  "No, I've chosen her name already.

  I'm naming her after someone very 78

  special," said Great-Gran.

  "Who? Who?"

  "You sound like an owl! Don't shout! Dear, dear, first you creep around and we can't get a squeak out of you – and now you start shouting at the top of your voice. C a l m down.

  I'm going to call the doll Elizabeth."

  "Elizabeth," I said. "Hey, that's my name, even though everyone calls me Lizzie!"

  "Well, I never," said Great-Gran and her blue eyes gleamed.

  I gave her a great big grin, my mouth totally unzipped.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JACQUELINE WILSON is one of Britain's most outstanding writers for young readers. She is the most borrowed author from British libraries and has sold over 25 million books in this country.

  As a child, she always wanted to be a writer and wrote her first 'novel' when she was nine, filling countless exercise books as she grew up. She started work at a publishing company and then went on to work as a journalist on Jackie magazine (which was named after her) before turning to writing fiction full-time.

  Jacqueline has been honoured with many of the UK's top awards for children's books, including the Guardian Children's Fiction Award, the Smarties Prize, the Red House Book Award and the Children's Book of the Year.

  She was awarded an OBE in 2002 and was the Children's Laureate for 2005-2007.

  Document Outline

  Front Cover

  Frontmatter A word from the Author

  Title Page

  Epub Copyright Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About the Author