Dusty's 8th adventure

No title yet, sorry. Working on this in between Zack's story, Bouncer and a few other projects... as well as the mentorship programme.

As ever, FIRST DRAFT spelling, grammar, punctuation etc will not be changed or altered until I go over it as a whole after the story is finished.

HOWEVER, if there are any plot-holes, things that don't work or even suggestions on something I may use, please feel free to pipe up and let me know.

I don't really want 'good post' comments, but rather genuine replies and advice etc. I always appreciate those.

Here it is then... the WORLD PREMIERE of Dusty's 8th Adventure.

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Even before Dusty went to live with her grandparents, she was always taught to mind her manners – especially with elderly people.

One old man in particular meant she needed a reminder to be polite every time she met him.

‘Curmudgeonly’ was how Dusty’s grandma referred to him. ‘Grumpy but interesting’ – her grandad’s opinion.

Dusty always remembered the old man’s hands in particular and the stick he grasped in one or the other – he didn’t seem to have a preference. He had many walking sticks and all were different. Dusty’s favourite was one made from walnut wood. It had delicate swirls and knots and the length of it was twisted like a spiral, yet it was hefty and strong. He didn’t use that one very often. The other sticks were all equally well-made and Dusty believed the old man made them himself.

Dusty didn’t think he needed a stick to help when he walked, but he kept one with him wherever he went. Each one was twisted, gnarled wood with interesting patterns burned into the surface.

The man’s hands were worn and gnarled too, just like her grandad’s, yet they were different in the fact that they were scarred and burned – probably from decorating the sticks.

Dusty didn’t think about it too much, the old man never really had much time to chat. He was polite with Ben and Colleen, but all-but ignored Dusty. Whenever they met, she stood quiet and patient, waiting for the pleasantries to be over and done with so they could all get back to the important business of their walk.

As Dusty grew older, she’d see the old man from time to time when she wasn’t with her grandparents and she always remembered to be polite.

“Hello Mr Robinson,” she’d say and she’d go along on her way, not worrying whether he replied to her greeting or not. Old people became deaf and didn’t always hear. Their reactions slowed and waiting around for a response that may or may not arrive seemed disrespectful somehow.

One afternoon, Dusty was just leaving the house when she spotted the old man walking down the driveway toward her.

“Hello, Mr Robinson,” she said, leaving the front door open.

“Hello, Dusty,” he said more politely than she ever recalled him speaking to her. “Are you on your way out?”

“Well, yes, I am, but my grandparents are inside. Would you like to go in?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said.

He looked at her and she thought he seemed worried. He frowned and chewed his bottom lip.

“Did you need me too?” she asked, guessing that he might. “I’m not going anywhere specific, I was just calling on a friend.”

His face brightened a little at her words and he looked at her a little more studiously.

“Would you mind doing me that favour?” he said. “I would appreciate it.”

“Come in, I’ll tell my grandparents you’re here,” Dusty said, leading Mr Robinson through the house, into the kitchen.

“Mr Robinson’s here to see you,” Dusty said to her grandparents as they looked at her when she entered the kitchen.

Colleen stood up immediately and went to get a cup for the old man. “Tea?” she asked.

“Yes please, Colleen,” he said and sat opposite Ben at the table.

“What can we do for you, Drake?” Ben asked.

“I have to go away for a short term,” he said, his words faltering. “I need someone to look after my pets.”

Ben nodded. “You want Colleen and me to call in and feed them a couple of times a day?” Ben said. “Like last time?”

Part 2