But he is still my granddad. He’s the person who is always there to pick me up in his pink car, who makes me tea, gives me sausages, goes to the shops and buys Nutella especially for me because he knows that I like it. But even more than that, in the last few weeks I’ve gone from thinking he was just a grumpy man to seeing how happy he can be, and realizing how much he loved Grandma and me. And he was the only one who truly believed in me too. He didn’t just teach me how to play chess; he made me feel good about myself. I grab my trophy and stand up. My granddad might have been a spy, but I still love him.

Confrontation

The trophy is gripped tight in my fist as I walk across the grass.

My feet are moving but I can’t feel the ground. Out of the corners of my eyes I can see the houses and some people in their gardens, but the only thing I see clearly is Granddad’s front door.

I stop at his gate and gather my breath. My phone buzzes again. It’ll be Jake telling me not to do it, but he’s too late because I’m already at Granddad’s front door.

I raise my hand to knock, then stop. What if I disturb him? He might be packing up his things into a suitcase. Someone from the GFG might be in there with him, giving him new identity papers to help him escape. But I have to knock, because even if Granddad has done those things I want to see him one last time before he leaves.

I knock on the door and peer through the glass, waiting for Granddad’s silhouette to appear in the hall. But there’s nothing. I put my head against the door, listening for the boom of the TV or the brass band music playing in the kitchen.

Still nothing.

Weird. Maybe he’s already left, or my imagination has gone wild and he’s just out the back doing some gardening or working in the shed.

I walk round the side of the house and stop on the patio. The shed is closed and there’s no sign of Granddad in the garden.

I try the back door handle. It turns and I slowly open the door. Samson squeezes in front of me and runs to his bowl.

The kitchen is quiet and there’s a half-drunk cup of tea on the worktop. Granddad never leaves tea. I wonder if he’s had one of his turns and gone to bed to recover.

My blood thuds in my ears as I walk into the hallway. I listen for Granddad, his radio, his TV, but all I hear is my breath and the tick of the clocks.

‘Granddad,’ I shout. ‘It’s me, Felix.’ My voice echoes up the stairs.