"Its funny," he said, "I eat all that food but I'm hungry again in two hours."

"Less than that sometimes" said Mum.

Nip took his sandwich through to living room and dropped down in front of the computer. He turned it on and started to play a shoot ‘em up. Jodey joined him.

Later that day, after lunch, they sat in the car while their mother drove across town to the 'Everglade Rest Home". Jodey finished his second apple and dropped the core out the window.

"We're not going to stay too long are we?" asked Nip.

"About an hour," said Mum, "If she's awake."

"'I hope she's asleep."

"Why do old people sleep so much?" asked Jodey, "Its like they're babies again."

"Not all old folks are the same," said Mum, "Some sleep a lot, like granny, but others are wide awake all day. There are artists and composers who've done their best work when they were in their eighties and nineties. You shouldn't judge all old people by your granny."

"But she's so out of it."

"Not all the time," said Mum, "Some days she's as bright as a pin. Look, that's enough complaining. I don't want to hear another word."

Mum turned off the road and drove up a long, curving drive to a cluster of little doors and windows, all spaced out neatly in a line. Each door had a flat expanse of concrete, a chair, some flowers in a pot, and a railing.

Mum parked the car.

"Number twelve," said Jodey.

Nip ran ahead and pressed the door buzzer. After a few moments, a bent old lady came slowly from another room. Her shape moved vaguely behind the bubbled glass. Then door opened and a bright-eyed woman smiled delightedly at them.

"Francie?" she said.

"No, I'm your grand-daughter, Elsie" said Mum.

"Oh yes, so you are! Come in, come in."