Visiting Grandma Brand

The trouble started at 5:42 in the morning.

Which, as every sensible person knows, is a ridiculous time to be awake.

Mrs Brand certainly thought so.

She was already dressed, already packing a bag and already drinking her second cup of tea when Barry appeared in the kitchen wearing dinosaur pyjamas and the expression of someone who had sensed excitement.

“Why are you awake?” Mrs Brand asked.

“Why are you awake?” Barry replied.

This was unhelpfully reasonable.

The previous evening had been a bit of a shock.

Grandma Brand, who lived in Leicestershire, had fallen over while gardening.

The hospital doctors had initially worried she might have broken her hip.

Everyone had been concerned.

Phone calls had happened.

More phone calls had happened.

Then some additional phone calls happened because apparently nobody in the family trusted information unless it had been repeated six times.

By bedtime, the news was much better.

Nothing was broken.

Grandma Brand had simply fallen over spectacularly.

She was bruised, sore and annoyed.

Mostly annoyed.

Mrs Brand was driving up to visit her.

Mr Brand’s brother was travelling all the way from West Wales to help organise things for the next few days.

Mrs Brand planned to sort out shopping, medications and anything else Granny might need.

A sensible trip.

A practical trip.

A peaceful trip.

Then Barry found out he was coming too.

“ROAD TRIP!”

Marmaduke, who was sleeping over, appeared seconds later.

“ROAD TRIP!”

Neither child had any idea where Leicestershire was.

They didn’t care.

By 7am they were all in the car.

Mrs Brand driving.

Barry in the back.

Marmaduke beside him.

Enough snacks to survive a minor apocalypse.

The journey began surprisingly well.

For twenty-three minutes.

Then Barry remembered Mousey.

His beloved garden mouse.

The mouse who had appeared after the Great Bird Feeder Disaster.

The mouse who definitely belonged outside.

The mouse who Barry increasingly considered family.

Barry stared thoughtfully out the window.

Then smiled.

This was never a good sign.

Earlier that morning, while Mrs Brand had been loading the car, Barry had quietly visited the garden.

And now, hidden carefully inside an old biscuit tin lined with tissues, was Mousey.

Travelling north.

“Mousey has never been to Leicestershire,” Barry whispered.

Marmaduke gasped.

“You brought him?”

Barry nodded proudly.

Marmaduke looked impressed.

“That’s excellent planning.”

The biscuit tin rustled.

Marmaduke peered inside.

Mousey appeared perfectly happy.

Possibly because somebody had included half a digestive biscuit.

For the next hour, the boys took turns checking on him.

Meanwhile, Mrs Brand remained blissfully unaware.

Which was exactly how Barry preferred things.

Around 10am they arrived at the hospital.

It was one of those bright modern hospitals where everything smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee.

Mrs Brand parked carefully.

“Right,” she said.

“We are visiting Grandma.”

“Can Mousey meet Grandma?” Barry asked.

Mrs Brand froze.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

“What did you just say?”

Barry’s heart sank.

Marmaduke looked away.

The way people do when somebody else has made a catastrophic life choice.

“You brought the MOUSE?”

Mrs Brand asked.

Barry held up the biscuit tin (with bird seed and a plenty of air holes).

The tin squeaked.

Mrs Brand closed her eyes.

For several seconds.

“Of course you did.”

They were already here.

They couldn’t exactly drive back to London.

Mrs Brand sighed.

“Fine.”

Barry brightened instantly.

“But Mousey stays inside the tin.”

“Okay.”

“No exceptions.”

“Okay.”

“No hospital adventures.”

“Okay.”

Mrs Brand should have known that three consecutive agreements from Barry were suspicious.

Grandma Brand was sitting up in bed when they arrived.

She looked remarkably healthy for someone who had apparently caused family-wide panic.

One leg was bruised.

Her pride was badly injured.

Her sense of humour remained intact.

“Hello, darling,” she said to Mrs Brand.

Then she spotted Barry.

“Oh no.”

Barry grinned.

“Hello Granny.”

Marmaduke waved politely.

“Hello.”

Grandma Brand nodded.

“You’ve brought reinforcements.”

“Unfortunately,” Mrs Brand said.

For a while everyone chatted happily.

The doctors had confirmed that Grandma could probably go home that afternoon.

Nothing broken.

Just bruised.

A very lucky escape.

Everyone relaxed.

Which was exactly when the biscuit tin squeaked.

Grandma frowned.

“What was that?”

Barry froze.

Marmaduke froze.

Mrs Brand narrowed her eyes.

“Barry.”

The tin squeaked again.

Mousey had apparently decided now was an excellent time to be involved.

“Barry.”

“Yes?”

“What.”

“Nothing.”

The lid moved slightly.

Mrs Brand’s face changed colour.

“Oh no.”

Grandma Brand leaned forward.

“What have you brought?”

Barry smiled proudly.

“Mousey.”

There was silence.

Then Grandma Brand said something nobody expected.

“Take it away.”

Barry blinked.

“You don’t like mice?”

“No.”

“Not even friendly mice?”

“Especially friendly mice.”

Apparently Grandma Brand had spent years defending vegetables from rodents.

She viewed mice differently.

Much differently.

“That thing once ate half my runner beans.”

Barry looked horrified.

“Mousey wouldn’t do that.”

Grandma Brand folded her arms.

“They all would.”

Mousey chose that exact moment to poke his nose through the opening.

Grandma Brand shrieked.

Not loudly.

But loudly enough.

A nearby nurse appeared instantly.

“Everything alright?”

Mrs Brand looked exhausted.

“No.”

The nurse spotted Mousey.

There was a pause.

Then another pause.

“Is that a mouse?”

Barry nodded proudly.

“His name is Mousey.”

The nurse looked at Mrs Brand.

Mrs Brand looked at the ceiling.

The ceiling offered no assistance.

Fortunately, the nurse found the situation hilarious.

Unfortunately, several other nurses did too.

Within minutes, half the ward seemed aware that somebody had smuggled a mouse into hospital.

Barry became surprisingly popular.

Mousey became even more popular.

Grandma Brand remained unconvinced.

Eventually Mrs Brand escorted the boys outside while Grandma enjoyed some peace.

“Mousey is staying in the car.”

Barry reluctantly agreed.

On the walk back through the hospital grounds, Marmaduke considered things carefully.

“Your Grandma doesn’t like mice.”

“No.”

“Maybe because she’s old.”

Barry thought about this.

“My dad is old.”

“Not that old.”

Fair point.

Back at the car, Mousey was safely returned to his temporary travel accommodation.

The boys ate sandwiches.

Mrs Brand made phone calls.

More relatives appeared.

More arrangements happened.

Adults seemed strangely enthusiastic about discussing medication schedules.

Barry found this extremely boring.

Mousey agreed.

By late afternoon, Grandma Brand was smiling again.

The doctors were happy.

Mrs Brand’s brother-in-law had finally arrived from West Wales.

Everyone had a plan.

Success.

As they prepared to leave, Grandma Brand hugged Barry.

Then Marmaduke.

Then she looked suspiciously towards the car park.

“The mouse is going home, isn’t it?”

Barry nodded.

“Yes.”

Granny looked relieved.

Then Barry added:

“She says thank you for letting him visit.”

Grandma laughed despite herself.

“Tell him he’s not invited back.”

The drive home was much quieter.

Barry eventually fell asleep.

Marmaduke too.

Mousey slept in her biscuit tin.

Mrs Brand drove south through the evening sunshine feeling tired but happy.

Grandma was okay.

Nothing was broken.

The family had a plan.

And somehow, despite bringing a mouse into a hospital, Barry had managed not to get permanently banned.

Although, Mrs Brand reflected, there was always next weekend.