"I think ..." he said, looking at grandpa, "I think … you're right."

"Good," said grandpa, "I think I'm right too. It's about time you changed direction and made the most of your life, before you're old like me. I haven't got time to change. I'm dead already. Its too late for me, but you, you've got at least another forty years left, if all goes well."

That was all grandpa said. He just smiled and leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. He looked utterly contented.

"Grandpa?" I said.

He didn't move.

"Are you pretending?"

He didn't move.

Mum lifted one of grandpa's white, wrinkled hands and pressed her thumb into the artery. She slowly lowered it again and tucked it in beside the other one. Big tears were slipping down her cheeks. She put her arms round grandpa's shoulders and started to sob onto his shoulder. Dad stood up, came over to her, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"He must have known," he said gently.

"I'll tell Susan," I said, going quietly to the door.