“We are going to grow this pumpkin until it’s HUGE”—his eyes were smiling now—“and then, when it’s as big as it can be, we’ll scoop out the bits in the middle, fit an outboard engine on it, add a sail, and off we go!”

Marty didn’t quite know what Grandad had expected, a round of applause or what, but he just looked at him, mouth agape.

“We’re going to sail to Paris in a pumpkin?”

“Yes we are! And before you think it’s a bonkers idea, I worked it all out! They’re buoyant. I’ve almost finished tinkering with that old outboard engine; all we need now is a good headwind and we’ll be there!”

Marty started to laugh. Laugh and laugh. It started with a smile and then a giggle and chuckle and a snort until it was full-on, full-throttle laughing. He hadn’t actually laughed like that since he was a little kid.

Grandad watched his face, searching for a reaction other than the laughter. When Marty finally stopped, tears rolling down his face, Grandad scratched his head and leaned closer to Marty.

“So? What do you think?”

Marty looked at him. He was absolutely serious.

“Grandad, I think you’re mad!”

Grandad looked a little crestfallen.

“I mean, it doesn’t make sense. It’s actually mad!”

Grandad considered this.

“I’d rather be mad, Marty my boy, than boring. Just think of it! You. Me. That gorgeous pumpkin boat and the big blue sea.”

“But it’s impossible!”

“It isn’t! Look at it! It’s already a great-looking pumpkin! We just need to swell it a bit. Then we’ll need some expanding foam, a sail, some rope, and some help from Colin the milkman, but, Marty, I’m absolutely sure we could do it!”

Marty looked confused. Grandad took his hand.

“Listen to me, Marty. I know you’ve … things haven’t been easy. People have let you down, but you can’t lose your dreams, you can’t stop believing that anything is possible, and if I can achieve anything in this life, I’ll prove that to you…”

Marty tried not to cry. It was really hard these days. It was like there were all these tears just bubbling under the surface, and all they needed was the gentlest of nudges and whoosh, they might come tumbling out.

“It’s going to be brilliant, Marty! Trust me.”

Marty looked at him, his grandad’s face lit up by the fire, and Marty wanted, more than anything, to trust him with all his heart.

SIXTEEN