margaret dickinson GRANDAD’S BIRTHDAY WISH

Could young Ricky be the one to make Matthew’s 80th truly memorable?

Grandad’s Birthday Wish

Janet Templeton popped her head round her son’s bedroom door. “Turn your computer off now, Ricky.” “Aw, Mum, I’m just about to get up to another level in…”

“Ricky!” Janet’s tone was warning. There were strict rules about the time he spent playing games on his computer. “Besides,” she added, with a smile, knowing that this would work magic. “Grandad’s waiting for you to go for a walk.”

Ricky loved his grandfather dearly and nothing – not even the addictive games – would make the boy disappoint him. A few minutes later, the old man shuffled along the country lane while the ten-year-old skipped and hopped beside him; Ricky was never still.

“It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it, Grandad? How old will you be?”

“Oh, it’s a big one this year, Ricky. I’ll be eighty.”

Ricky stopped his skipping and stared at the old man. “Eighty? That’s ever so old.” They’d reached their favourite spot – a stile in the lane running through their farmland. The old man sat down on the first step while the energetic youngster climbed the wooden fence and perched on the topmost bar.

“There’s Dad!” Ricky stood up, balancing precariously, waving and calling.

“He’ll not hear you,” Matthew remarked placidly. Ricky sat down again but still remained half-twisted towards the field behind them, watching the red combine harvester swallowing up the ripe wheat in one continuous gulp.

“All the aunt and uncles will come to your birthday. They always do.”

Matthew’s shaggy white eyebrows almost met as he frowned.

“All except one,” he murmured, seeming to speak more to himself than to the boy. But Ricky’s sharp ears missed nothing. Mentally, he listed his numerous aunts and uncles but couldn’t think of any one of them who would be missing, barring a broken leg or an earthquake! At Christmas and on Grandad’s birthday, they flooded into the old farmhouse like a tidal wave, bearing expensive gifts and gushing apologies for not having visited since the previous celebration.

A wasp buzzed around the old man’s head and Ricky flapped it away. It was hot and sultry here in the sheltered, sunken lane, with only the distant hum of the harvester to ruffle the stillness. “Who, Grandad?” The old man sighed, lost in memories

“Uncle Jim?” Ricky HADN’T KNOWN that SUCH A PERSON ever existed

the boy couldn’t share. “Your uncle Jim. My eldest.” “Uncle Jim?” Ricky hadn’t known such a person existed.

“He emigrated to Australia. Forty years ago. He was young – only eighteen – and headstrong.” “Haven’t you seen him since?” The boy’s voice rose with shocked indignation. Matthew shook his head. “No. He used to write to his mam – your granny – but since she died…” The old man’s voice faded away.

Ricky had never known her; she’d died before he’d been born. “Don’t you Skype him?” Matthew blinked. “Skype? What’s that?” “It’s on the computer. You can talk to people on the other side of the world and you can see them too.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start with them newfangled inventions, young un.”

Ricky opened his mouth, to explain