Something rotten

'She said that she wanted to make up for some of the misery she had caused, and she knew she would never hold either you or Betty again.'

'You could have refused her, but I'm glad you didn't. I loved her, but she was rotten to the core.'

He fell silent for a moment and I touched him on the arm.

'Not entirely rotten, Spike. She loved you both very much.'

He looked at me and smiled.

'I know. You did the right thing, Thursday. Thank you.'

And he hugged me, and was gone.

I answered lots more questions regarding the Superhoop match and when I decided enough was enough I asked Landen to take me home.

Landen drove the Speedster, with Friday in a baby seat in the back, right next to Pickwick, who didn't want to be left alone now that Alan had gone.

'Land?'

'Mm?'

'Did you ever think it odd that I survived?'

'I'm grateful that you did, of course—

'Stop the car a minute'

'Why?'

'Just do as I say.'

He pulled up and I very carefully climbed out and walked towards where two familiar figures were sitting on the pavement outside a Goliathe coffee shop. I approached silently and sat down next to the larger of the two before he'd even noticed. He looked round and jumped visibly when he saw me.

'Once,' said a sad and familiar voice, 'you would never have been able to sneak up on a Gryphon!'

I smiled. He was a creature with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion. He wore spectacles and a scarf under his trenchcoat, which somewhat dented his otherwise fearsome appearance. He was fictional, to be sure, but he was also head of jurisfiction's legal team, my lawyer — and a friend.

'Gryphon!' I said with some surprise. 'What are you doing in the Outland?'

'Here to see you,' he whispered, looking around and lowering his voice. 'Have you met Mock Turtle? He's now my number two at the legal desk.'

He gestured towards where a turtle with the head of a calf was staring mournfully into space. He was, like the Gryphon, straight out of the pages of Alice in Wonderland.

'How do you do?'

'Okay — I suppose.' The Mock Turtle sighed, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief.

'So what's up?' I asked.

'It's quite serious — too serious for the footnoterphone. And I needed an excuse to do some Outlander research on traffic islands. Fascinating things.'

I felt hot and prickly all of a sudden. Not about traffic islands, of course, about my conviction. The fiction infraction. I had changed the ending of Jane Eyre and was found guilty by the Court of Hearts. All that was missing was the sentence.

'What did I get?'

'It's not that bad,' exclaimed the Gryphon, snapping his fingers at the Mock Turtle, who passed him a sheet of paper now stained with his own tears.

I took the paper and scanned the semi-blurred contents.

'It's a bit unusual,' admitted the Gryphon. 'I think the bit about the gingham is unnaturally cruel — might be the cause of an appeal on its own.'

I stared at the paper.

'Twenty years of my life in blue gingham,' I murmured.

'And you can't die until you've read the ten most boring books,' added the Gryphon.

'My gran had to do the same,' I explained, feeling just a little puzzled.

'Not possible,' said the Mock Turtle, drying his eyes. 'This sentence is unique, as befits the crime. You can take the twenty years of gingham any time you want — not necessarily now.'

'But my gran had this punishment—!'

'You're mistaken,' replied the Gryphon firmly, retrieving the paper, folding it and placing it in his pocket, 'and we had better be off. Will you be at Bradshaw's golden wedding anniversary?'

'Y-es,' I said slowly, still confused.

'Good. Page 221, Bradshaw and the Diamond of M'shala. It's bring a bottle and a banana. Drag your husband along. I know he's real but no one's perfect — we'd all like to meet him.'

'Thank you. What about—

'Goodness!' said the Gryphon, consulting a large pocket watch. 'Is that the time? We've got a lobster quadrille to perform in ten pages!'

The Mock Turtle cheered up a bit when he heard this, and in a moment they were gone.

I walked slowly back to where Landen and Friday were waiting for me in the car.

'Dah!' said Friday really loudly.

'There!' said Landen. 'He most definitely said "Dad"!'

He noticed my furrowed brow.

'What's up?'

'Landen, my gran on my mother's side died in 1968.'

'And?'

'Well, if she died then, and Dad's mum died in 1979—

'Yes?'

'Then who is that up at the Goliath Twilight Homes?"

'I've never met her,' explained Landen. 'I thought "gran" was a term of endearment.'

I didn't answer. I had thought she was my gran but she wasn't. In fact, I'd known her only about three years. Before that I had never set eyes on her. Perhaps that's less than accurate. I had seen her whenever I stared into a mirror, but she had been a lot younger. Gran wasn't my gran. Gran was me.

Landen drove me up to the Goliath Twilight Homes and I went in alone, leaving Landen and Friday in the car. I made my way with heavily beating heart to her room and found the ward sister bending over the gently dozing form of the old, old woman that I would eventually become.

'Is she suffering much?'

'The painkillers keep it under control,' replied the nurse. 'Family?'

'Yes,' I replied, 'we're very close.'

'She's a remarkable woman,' murmured the nurse. 'It's a wonder she's still with us at all.'

'It was a punishment,' I said.

'Pardon?'

'Never mind. It won't be long now.'

I moved closer to the bed and she opened her eyes.

'Hello, young Thursday!' said Gran, waving at me weakly. She took off the oxygen mask, was roundly scolded by the nurse, and put it back on again.

'You're not my gran, are you?' I said slowly, sitting on the side of the bed.

She smiled benevolently and placed her small, pink, wrinkled hand on mine.

'I am Granny Next,' she replied, just not yours. When did you find out?'

'I got my sentencing from the Gryphon just now.'

Now that I knew, she seemed more familiar to me than ever before. I even noticed the small scar on her chin from the charge of the Armoured Brigade way back in '72, and the well-healed scar above her eye.

'Why did I never realise?' I asked her in confusion. 'My real grandmothers are both dead — and I always knew that.'

The tired old woman smiled again.

'You don't have Aornis in your head without learning a few tricks, my dear. My time with you has not been wasted. Our husband would not have survived without it and Aornis could have erased everything when we were living in Caversham Heights. Where is he, by the way?'

'He's looking after the boy Friday outside.'

'Ah!'

She looked into my eyes for a moment, then said:

'Will you tell him I love him?'

'Of course.'

'Well, now that you know who I am, I think it's time to go. I did find the ten most boring classics — and I've almost finished the last.'

'I thought you had to have an "epiphanic moment" before you departed? A last exciting resolution to your life?'

'This is it, young Thursday. But it's not mine, it's ours. Now, pick up that copy of The Faerie Queene. I am one hundred and ten and it is well past my out-time.'

I looked across at the table and picked up the book. I had never read the end — nor even past page forty. It was that dull.

'Don't you have to read it?' I asked.

'Me, you, what's the difference?' She giggled, something that turned into a weak cough that wouldn't stop until I had leaned her gently upright.