IT WAS A bright, shiny Saturday. Marty had gotten up early and cycled to the bus stop and chained his bike to the railings. Grandad was there already. His best jacket on, patches of corduroy on its elbows. His trilby had been brushed, and he looked dapper in his own ramshackle kind of way. Gracie was walking down the road. Well, not walking exactly, but kind of skipping-dancing. She wasn’t even doing the classic don’t-step-on-the-cracks thing, she was kind of, well, walk-dancing … Grandad started to dance as she got nearer, grabbed her hand, and leaned her back into a dramatic final pose before they burst out laughing. By Grandad’s feet were six empty plastic buckets that he picked up as the bus pulled up at the stop.

“All aboard!” Grandad shouted, smiling. “Two under-six-year-olds and a senior citizen, please, driver!”

“Under six?” the driver asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shh, yes, don’t stare at them; their mother is a six-foot-eight model and their dad is a basketball player and they get very self-conscious about their height.”

The driver laughed so hard he actually gave them a discount, and Grandad thanked him profusely, called him a gentleman, and doffed his trilby at him.

Marty was thrilled at having a day out, and Mum had even given him some money to spend. He didn’t want to tell Grandad about Mum and her promise. Not yet. He wanted to keep it close to his heart for a while and get used to the idea before telling him. He’d tied his sweater around his waist and was pretending to look out the window, but he was really listening to Grandad and Gracie chat.

She was telling him about not being able to hear. About how she was diagnosed with moderate hearing loss when she was around three and had to wear a tiny hearing aid. How, over time, her hearing had begun to deteriorate. Her mum and dad had noticed she didn’t look at them anymore when they talked. Or didn’t jump when there was a loud noise behind her, and how eventually she got the cochlear implant to help her. The implant made everything sound so different, she said. Sometimes it was difficult to live between the deaf and hearing worlds. It was the little things, like missing the punchline of a joke and asking someone to repeat it, which kind of killed the moment.

By the time they reached the seaside, Marty was itching for some fresh air. They got off the bus by the promenade and looked at Grandad.

“Now what?”

“Come with me…”

They marched all the way to the beach, and followed Grandad down onto the sand. Then they watched as he stood, stock-still on the tide line.

“Oh dear…”

Marty rolled his eyes at Gracie … Here we go, he thought.

“I forgot to check the tide times,” Grandad said.

Then he looked at the waves.