Love Me Tender (#5)
Where was it? Where had Grandpa hidden it? From the moment the bastard had stopped breathing, Boy had been searching. He’d already spent hours turning Grandpa’s room inside out, but he wasn’t ready to give up. It would be here somewhere, he knew it. The old man would never have thrown it away. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, shifting his weight from one side to the other, the floorboards creaking in protest.
A waft of sickly sweet odours assailed his nostrils, reminding him he didn’t have long before the undertakers would arrive. Funny to think the people Grandpa had employed and abused would now be responsible for sending him off. The old bastard had made their lives hell while he’d been alive. Now was their opportunity for payback and he wouldn’t blame them if they took it.
Boy glared at Grandpa’s corpse, lying in comfortable state on the bed.
“Where did you put the box?” he hissed. “I know you would never have chucked it out.”
The stench made him gag; he wished he’d turned the heating off in this room, but he couldn’t give up the search – not until he’d found it. The box would be in here somewhere. Maybe the wardrobe had a false back, he thought, turning towards it. As he spun, the rug caught his heel and he fell, tumbling down in a heap. Just as well the old man was dead, otherwise he would have had to listen to another of Grandpa’s lectures on how fucking useless he was.
He pulled himself upright and then reached down to straighten the rug. That’s when he knew he’d hit the jackpot. The floorboards didn’t quite meet as they should. He put his fingers into a well-worn groove and lifted out a loose section of wood. As he’d suspected, Grandpa had been hiding money away from the taxman. A large cashbox took up most of the space and Boy knew just where to find the key to it, but money wasn’t the prize he wanted.
Hands shaking, he pulled out the Tupperware sitting next to the cashbox. The plastic container was empty, but still stained with her blood. This was it – his holy grail.
Boy sat cross-legged next to the bed, no longer bothered by the smell, and hugged the container, allowing his memories to flow.
He’d just turned fourteen when Grandpa had brought Grammy’s heart home in this box.