The Strayed Coconut  - Another Granny story

_ “A Coconut? A strayed coconut!?” Anne couldn’t believe that Granny could surpass herself like this. She looked into Granny’s eyes to detect the familiar twinkle that meant ‘I’m pulling your leg’, but her gaze met a pair of limpid brown eyes with no indication of jest.

_ “Yes”, Granny said. “But if you don’t feel like listening to this story, we can read one from the book you brought from school.”

Anne might have been young, but not so young as not to have noticed that Granny didn’t think much of story books from school – and, truth be told, neither did she.

_  “No. I’d rather you told me your story, Grams.”

_  “All right, then. As I was saying, this is the story of a strayed coconut. As you might know, coconuts are the fruit of a palm tree that _”

_ “Grows in hot places where there is a lot of rain,” Anne recited.

_ “Well!” exclaimed Granny, “Miss Simmons seems to be doing a good job.”

_ “It wasn’t Miss Simmons who taught me that. I saw it on TV.”

‘Thank Goodness she likes this kind of programmes’, thought Granny.

_ “And they have hairs,” completed Anne.

_ “Well, I don’t know if all of them have ‘hairs’, as you say, I’ve seen green ‘bald’ ones, too.”

_ “What about this one? The one in the story? With hairs or no hairs?”

_ “This one had no hairs,” Granny said, resolving the ‘hair issue’ quickly.

_ “OK, then,” said Anne, settling herself in the usual position in bed preparatory to listening to Granny’s stories.

_ “Well, four coconuts fell from the palm, not far from it, in fact.”

_ “I’ve often heard from mum that an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so I suppose that coconuts are no different,” said Anne seriously.

Granny couldn’t help laughing, but avoided the inquisitive look that had accompanied the words. That was something for ‘mum’ to explain, particularly why she said that!

_ “So, the coconuts where lying on the hot sand when suddenly the sky darkened and a very strong wind, gale force actually, started blowing.”

_ “And one of them was blown away!” exclaimed Anne, half-excited, half-disappointed that the story had such an obvious plot. Yet, she immediately thought that this being one of Granny’s stories, it couldn’t be that easy. It wasn’t.

_ “It was the other three that were blown away. They were lighter than CC ”

_ “CC?”

_ “Well, yes, that was its name.” Granny said. Anne sighed, like accepting this only because she wanted the story to go on.

_ “CC, being heavier, just stayed where it was, but got buried by the flying sand. And no, it didn’t die there,” she added before Anne could say anything.

_ “Of course, not,” said Anne, “there wouldn’t be a story that way!”

‘How fast she’s growing’, Granny thought.

_ “Well, after the storm died down, a man who lived nearby started collecting fallen coconuts. He carried a sort of basket with him, and the more he walked the heavier it grew.” Granny paused to see if Anne had any comment to make. Uncharacteristically, she was silent. But Granny knew she was trying to jump ahead in the story.

_ “He was tired, so he came to rest under the very palm from which CC and the other three coconuts had fallen.”

_ “Do palms give a lot of shade?”

_ “Well, not much. Why do you ask?”

_ “If the man sat there, and it was very hot, it must’ve been because of the shade, don’t you think?”

Granny, thinking that logical thought was rapidly developing in her granddaughter, said, _ “Yes, right you are! But the funny thing is that, before going back home, he decided that the basket was too heavy, so he took some of the coconuts out of it and left them there in a neat pile so he could pick them later on. And_”

_ “Three of them were the ones that had fallen with CC!”, Anne finished.

_ “That’s right. The three fallen coconuts returned to their original place, but CC…”

_ “Was still buried under the sand,” completed Anne.

_ “Yes, but a couple of hours later, a dog turned up. I suppose it was enjoying a walk on the beach.”

_ “Dogs like digging, don’t they?” Anne said, again a step ahead in the story.

_ “Yes. They usually dig to make a comfortable bed for themselves. That is, to find a warmer or cooler place to lie down according to whether it’s hot or cold. And it was hot again after the storm.”

Anne threw Granny a look that said ‘C’m on!’, which Granny ignored because it was getting late.

_ “So the dog started digging himself a nice cool bed in the wet sand when he uncovered CC.”

_ “What did the dog do?”

_ “What all dogs do with a ball. It started playing with CC. It pawed it to right and left, pushed it forward with its snout, run round it like mad… until CC ended up in the sea.”

_ “That’s why it was a strayed coconut!” Anne exclaimed, finally getting where the story was going. Yet, she couldn’t see how Granny could possibly find a happy end to this one. Though, she thought, she always fell asleep before the end of stories! She promised herself that would not happen tonight.

_ “Yes, that’s why”, Granny confirmed.

_ “But”, Anne said, “if it went into the water, it sank, didn’t it?”

_ “No, it didn’t. I suspect you missed part of that programme on coconuts. The ‘nut’ of a coconut is hollow, so coconuts will float in water.”

_ “Ah! And it floated away and away and never came back? Strayed for good?” She looked accusingly at Granny.

_ “Actually, it floated back on the beach as soon as the tide turned. At high tide, the water reached almost the foot of the palm tree in question. It came to rest exactly in the same spot where it had fallen before – just next to the pile of coconuts the man had left earlier.”

Anne gave a sigh – almost of relief – though she felt she had to protest.

_ “But then, it wasn’t a strayed coconut any longer!”

_ “Haven’t you heard that ‘you may stray afar, yet return at last’?”  She didn’t know where the old proverb had come to her mind, and was conscious that she was changing it a bit, but it seemed like a nice way to wrap up the story.

_ “I haven’t heard… that before.” Anne said between yawn and yawn.

_ “Now,” said Granny, “time to go to sleep.”

_ “OK,” Anne said, slipping easily under the covers. “And I’ll tell Miss Simmons to teach the class that thing about afar and at last. I like it.” Her voice came muffled and weak with sleep.

Granny went to draw the curtains, as usual, thinking of poor Miss Simmons. She wondered if the expression appeared in any dictionary at all. “Well,” she said to herself, “better Miss Simmons than my daughter. She’s always complaining about Anne pestering her with questions after my stories.” She smiled, and almost chuckled to herself thinking that Anne’s mother must have conveniently forgotten what she was like as a child.

For Mercedes, who unwittingly gave me the idea of a ghost and an umbrella.

The Ghost that lost an umbrella

_ “C’m on, Granny! Ghosts don’t have umbrellas, do they?” Her intonation left no doubt as to her skepticism.

It was a typical line Anne would use whenever Granny started one of her stories.

_ “Bizarre”, she thought, delighted at how the word sounded in her head. She didn’t quite know what the word meant, but it seemed to fit Granny’s stories. She settled herself more comfortably under the quilt. A ghost that lost an umbrella sounded promising… but she had to protest. Granny shouldn’t think she’d buy anything!

_ “What was the ghost’s name?”, she asked.

_ “So ghosts have names but no umbrellas?”, Granny said, with a twinkle in her eyes.

_ “Well!”, Anne spluttered. “Everybody has a name, don’t they?”, she challenged.

_ “Agreed”, answered Granny. “And everybody has umbrellas, don’t they?”

_ “All right, all right”. Anne acknowledged defeat. “Nobody can beat Granny”, she thought. “So what was the ghost called?”

_ “Gloria”, Granny said.

_”But…but..” Anne started, stopped, and started again: “but are there ‘women’ ghosts?”.

_ “Interesting question”, Granny said. “I suppose there are. Why should ghosts be only male?”

_ “I’ve always thought ghosts were neither men nor women”, Anne said, pondering. “They’re just… ghosts!”. She brought out the last word with an air of finality.

_  “Well”, Granny said, “so they have no gender?”

_ “What’s ‘gender’?” Anne wanted to know.

Granny stole a glance to the bedside clock and decided that was an issue that could wait. Yet, some sort of answer was necessary. Anne had an unquenchable curiosity
_ “Gender is what you call ‘men and women’”. She hoped this would do for the time being. And not waiting for Anne to have time to think things over, she said: “But the most important thing here is that the ghost lost the umbrella, remember?”

_ “His or her umbrella, Granny?” Anne wouldn’t be sidetracked.

_ “I’d say ‘her’ umbrella, given the ghost’s name, wouldn’t you?”

_ “OK”. Anne still had questions but she wanted Granny to get started with the story.

_ “So, Gloria, the ghost of this story, went out one night to do what ghosts usually do in the evening _”

_ “And that is…?” Anne interrupted.

_ “Visiting friends, slipping into cinemas to catch a movie, go window shopping without actually buying anything….” Anne thought of making a comment but kept silent.

_ “The same stuff adults do, in fact”, Granny swept on. “She was carrying her umbrella _”

“But”, cut in Anne, unable to refrain from asking, “why did she need an umbrella? I mean, ghosts don’t get wet, do they?” This time it wasn’t an assertion like before, but more of a question.

_ “Well, they do get wet with moonlight”, Granny said as if stating a well-established fact. “That’s why ghosts enjoy moonless nights much more than those with a full moon”.

Anne thought that was ridiculous, but, truth be told, she liked the idea.

_ “This was a particularly clear-sky, full-moon night, so Gloria was carrying one of her favourite umbrellas – it had little red and yellow trees painted on it. She was really fond of that umbrella and that’s why she took good care of it.”

_ “How come she lost it, then?” Anne asked.

_ “I was just getting to it,” Granny said. “She went into a big shopping mall and was trying to decide where to leave the umbrella when she saw a couple of friends playing ‘up-and-down’ on the escalator_”

_ “What’s that?” Anne asked.

_ “Oh, ghosts float up and down an escalator for a certain time, trying to avoid contact with people. If one of them happens to brush against somebody, they have to start from scratch. The fewer people they touch, the better. And, of course, if one of them manages to have no contact with anybody, he or she wins. It’s a good game, particularly because since people do not see them or feel their touch, they can play for hours without anybody telling them to stop making a nuisance of themselves!”

_ “They must enjoy themselves a lot”, Anne said enviously.

_ “Yes, indeed they do”, continued Granny, “so Gloria left her umbrella leaning against a wall near the escalator and joined her friends.”

_ “Somebody took it!” Anne said, feeling she knew where the story was going.

_ “Well, people couldn’t see the umbrella so_”

_ “So another ghost took it,” she said.

_ “That’s not what happened, really”, Granny said. “What happened was that she lost track of time – enjoying herself so much as she was – and when it was time to leave, she and her friends made for the door_”

_ “And she left her umbrella behind!” Anne exclaimed, as if she had finally grasped what had happened. _“She forgot all about it because she was with her friends. I have left a couple of things behind myself”, Anne said smiling to herself at the memories. _ “Mum said I was careless and should pay more attention to my stuff…” She trailed off as if considering whether a ghost mum would say the same.

_ “The point is that when Gloria and her friends got to the door, there was no longer a moon in the sky. It was heavily overcast. That’s why she didn’t give the umbrella a second thought.”

_ “She was careless all the same”, Anne insisted. “I bet she got worried when she realized what she’d done! Maybe she thought her mum would tell her off…?”

_ “Maybe,” Granny said, skillfully pivoting around the topic Anne seemed to want to discuss. “But the question is that Gloria followed her friends out in the street to play coast to coast _ ”

_ “Ah!” Anne exclaimed, “another Ghost game?”

_ “Yes, and a ‘cool’ one as you’d say. They float back and forth across the street _”

_ “And have to avoid touching the cars, right?”

_ “Not really. The point is to go through the car windows – without touching any other part of the vehicle or the driver or passengers, of course.”

Anne eyed Granny in disbelief, but, uncharacteristically, didn’t utter a word.

_ “It was after she had successfully travelled coast to coast three times that she saw it. The umbrella, I mean.”

_ “Oh, yes, the umbrella,” Anne said as if she had been caught distracted during a school test. “Where did she see it? It should still be sitting near the escalator, right? ”

_ “That would be the logical thing, wouldn’t it? But this is a story, remember? Anything can happen.”

_ “In your stories, for sure,” Anne thought – but said nothing.

_ “Gloria saw the umbrella attached to the back part of a gentleman’s jacket.”

_ “Where?”

_ “Attached to the _”

_ “I heard you fine – it’s just – how the H…” – she stopped just in time and went on “_on earth did the umbrella get there?”

_ “That’s a very old expression you’re using!” Granny said.

_ “That’s what you always say, isn’t it?”

_ “Yes, because I’m old!” Granny laughed and continued: “ Anyway, apparently this man had dropped his jacket just where the umbrella was, and when he picked it up, the umbrella took advantage of that and _”

_ “The umbrella could think?” Anne asked as if meaning ‘well, really, that tops it all!”

_ “I don’t really know. But umbrellas – though they cannot move by themselves – always find a way to get to their owners in the ghosts’ world”.

_ “That would be really useful in kids’ world, too!” Anne said, forgetting to express disbelief this time.

_ “Yes, well, as soon as Gloria saw the umbrella, she rushed across the street to take it and _”

_ “Another happy ending!” Anne said. “She got the umbrella allright!”

_ “Well, she did succeed in getting the umbrella – but lost the game!”

_ “How come?” asked Anne; though she was now sure what had happened, she wanted Granny to put it into words.

Granny looked at her, and once again marvelled at the inborn generosity of the child – she knew what was coming but was ceding the floor to her. Softening her voice and letting it drop in pitch, she continued.

_ “Frantic as she was to get the umbrella, she forgot all about avoiding the cars. And there she went – right through three cars! In the first one, the man driving felt an uncanny chill. In the second one, a child – probably about your age – thought he had imagined something cotton-like but cold brush his nose. In the third one…”

Granny looked at Anne and saw she had gone to sleep.

“Another unfinished story”, she thought, but then, casting her mind back to similar instances of story-telling to Anne, she reconsidered.  “No, she said to herself. It’s finished in her mind and that’s all that matters”.

Smiling, she thought what would happen if the kid didn’t have that ability to think of endings that she, herself, could not even imagine.

She remained very still for some minutes, looking into the face that reminded her so much of her own childhood. Then, as if unwilling to leave the room, with purposefully slow movements, she switched off the bedside lamp, and went to draw the curtains. Looking out the window, her hand poised –arrested in the movement she had intended – she wondered – yes, she wondered whether in that full-moon, starry night, there wasn’t a she-ghost out there looking for her umbrella.