The Small Fortune of Dorothea Q Read Online Free Page A

albums. No wonder the case had not held. Some of the albums were still wrapped in items of clothing; petticoats, blouses, a scarf or two. A couple of knickers and bras, old-lady-grey cotton underwear, were strewn amidst the jumble.
    Gran sat down on the edge of her bed, and patted the mattress next to her. I sat down. She took my hand, closing dry, skeletal fingers around it. Again I was reminded of a claw.
    ‘Darlin’ why you din’t write you old Gran for so long? Ten years, except for Christmas cards. You don’t love you old Gran no more?’
    The voice was wheedling, cracked. I stuttered some excuse. When you hit your teens you grow out of things to say to an old lady you never met, and the spaces between letters had grown longer, and finally they had stopped altogether.
    ‘I still got all you letters! Right over there!’ She pointed to the smaller of her suitcases, the one that had arrived safely with her as hand luggage.
    ‘That one, the black one. Bring it over here, open it for me.’
    I got up and lugged the case over. It was an old-fashioned one, without wheels, of battered old leather. I cleared some space, laid it down flat on the carpet in front of the bed and crouched down to open it.
    ‘It’s locked,’ I said, and looked up at Gran. She was fumbling with a chain around her neck.
    ‘Come, child, take off this ting for me.’
    The ‘ting’ was a bunch of keys. I got up and pried the keyring off the chain, leaving a single golden cross. She rubbed the cross gently between thumb and forefinger before dropping it into her neckline. She took the keys from me, inspected them all. There were at least six, two of which were tiny suitcase keys.
    ‘One of these,’ she said. ‘Try them out.’
    The suitcase lock sprang open at the first try. I opened the lid. Several shoeboxes were packed together in the case, the gaps between them filled by more stray pieces of clothing.
    ‘Good. Now take out everyt’ing for me. Lay them out on the floor.’
    I did as I was told; Gran’s voice brooked no disobedience or hesitation. She watched in obvious satisfaction as I laid the boxes in a row on the carpet.
    ‘Good,’ she said, when I was finished. ‘Now put the valise away.’
    Again I did as I was told, stepping around the albums and boxes and items of clothing on the carpet, and placing the empty suitcase back in the corner. Gran leaned forward, bending precariously low down from the bed, shuffling the boxes around. She opened one, peered inside, grumbled what must have been some kind of Guyanese curse, and opened another. This time her face lit up in pleasure. She straightened up and again patted the bed beside her.
    ‘Siddown, child. Lemme show you somet’ing.’
    She reached into the shoebox and removed what looked like a bundle of letters. This she handed to me with a smile of pure delight.
    ‘Go on, open it!’
    I removed the cracked rubber band that held the bundle together. I already recognised the writing on the envelope: Mum’s. I knew what was coming. Gran took the top envelope from the bundle and with fumbling fingers, removed its contents. She unfolded the one-page letter, and handed it to me in triumph.
    ‘There! Read!’
    My eyes glanced over the first few lines, but Gran spoke again.
    ‘Read it aloud!’
    I started again, aloud this time. ‘Dear Granny, I hope you are well. Thank you for your letter. I am fine. Mummy is fine. She sends you her love. Yesterday we had the school play; Alice in Wonderland, I was the rabbit. It was fun. Mummy took a photo of me in my rabbit costume, I will send it next time. Here is a photo of me with Daddy, ice-skating. I fell down three times but then I didn’t fall down any more. On Saturday I am going to a friend’s birthday party. She is going to be seven, I am three months older. Please write soon. Inky.’
    I looked up, and found her beaming at me. I smiled back politely.
    ‘See! I keep all you letters. Every one. You want to read some more?’ She