In those days children went to bed earlier. So there we sat, each of us doing our own thing. It was quiet. When suddenly there was a shout: ‘Help, someone, help!’ Grandpa didn’t do anything yet, he just listened. But then that man’s wife, the neighbor’s wife, shouted: ‘Help! He’s going to kill my child!’”

“And Grandpa jumped up.”

“In a flash, Antek. Your Grandpa was made of strong stuff. He was good, but also fair.”

“He grabbed a stick.”

“A big stick, and jumped over the fence.”

“And whacked the drunk on the head.”

“What else could he do? He had to defend the child, didn’t he?”

“The drunk got revenge,” remembers Kaytek.

“He did indeed. He knew some secret way of getting the rats to invade our house. They didn’t do much harm because Grandpa had his own special ways too. Until there was only one left – a great big monster of a rat.”

“Was it as big as a cat?”

“Not quite. But it was impossible to catch, that rat.”

It must have been enchanted, thinks Kaytek, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Grandpa lured the rat into the kitchen. It was in there. Good. He shut all the doors and looked for it. It was gone. He looked here, there, and everywhere, but it had simply vanished.”

“It was hiding under the step.”

“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t listen carefully. There was a step from the kitchen into the hall, and Grandpa whacked the step with an ax, but the rat wasn’t there. Come on, Antek, try to remember.”

“I know. It was hiding in the pocket of your apron.”

“No, that’s not it either. The apron was hanging in the corner. But the rat was clinging on to it by its teeth. It had jumped up and was hanging by the teeth – it had bitten into the cloth. That’s enough now.”

“Grandma, tell me about the rainwater barrel.”

“What’s so interesting about that? The time I found a toad in there?”

“And what about the fire, Grandma?”

“No, no. It’s late. Your father will be angry!”

“Then tell me about the hens who laid eggs in the woodshed.”

“No. You’re sleepy. You’re yawning.”

“I don’t feel like sleeping at all.”

But Kaytek can see Grandma doesn’t want to go on, so he gets changed for bed.

Grandma told the most stories when Mom was in the hospital.

Kaytek is lying in bed.

His eyes are closed.

He’s thinking: “What does it mean, Grandpa was made of strong stuff? Why does Grandma say you can’t know what a dog thinks? Why was it a wild vine? Grandma said a wild vine has ordinary leaves, not poisonous ones, not even like a nettle, so what’s wild about it?”

It’s unpleasant to have to keep asking them to explain. Sometimes they’re willing to tell him, sometimes they’re not. And if they’re not, they twist and tangle it all so you can’t understand.

It’s maddening.

“I’ll have to learn to read.