Running on the Cracks by Julia Donaldson

used to chopsticks,’ I say.
    ‘Please help yourselves,’ says Kim.
    I can see that Finlay is scanning the tablefor something familiar-looking.
    ‘If it moves, eat it!’ says Jacqueline with a laugh. When Finlay tries unsuccessfully to laugh along, she pats his arm and says, ‘I’m only teasing you. There are no sea slugs or beetles here! I’ll tell you what everything is.’ She rattles off the names of the dishes but I only take in a few of them: tofu with pickled cabbage, shredded pork with Chinese radish, and steamed eggs with dried scallops.
    This definitely beats Mary’s banquet; it looks more like the food Dad used to cook, but there’s so much of it! And Auntie Luli keeps bringing more dishes: a salad of lotus roots, some pieces of spicy lamb on the bone.
    If only I felt hungrier! If only my ridiculous nerves would stop gnawing at my stomach!
    The chicken disappears quite quickly, but now an enormous boiled fish has replaced it as the centrepiece.
    ‘Have an eye, Finlay!’ says Jacqueline. ‘They’re the best part – they’ll make you such a cleverboy at school.’ She laughs when he looks horrified. Instead, she gouges out one of the fish eyes and passes it to Auntie Luli, who is at last sitting down with us. The old lady pops it in her mouth, then smiles and points to her own eyes. ‘Good for see,’ she says.
    ‘My mother doesn’t speak much English, sorry,’ Kim says. She says something in Chinese to the old lady, who shakes her head and replies.
    ‘I was asking if she had made any dumplings – but she said no, because she is scared they would not be good enough for you. Jacqueline has told us all that you are a great dumpling chef, Leo.’
    ‘I’m not!’ I protest. ‘I just used to help Dad sometimes. They were his favourite food, ever since he was a little boy.’ And now it feels easier to talk about home, I don’t know why. ‘Dad always called them village dumplings. They were the kind his mum and dad used to have in their village before they came to Scotland.’
    Kim is nodding, and I find myself tellingthem all I know about Dad’s childhood, which isn’t much. I don’t get up to the plane crash, but I tell them how he met Mum and quarrelled with his parents.
    Again, Kim translates for Auntie Luli. She nods vigorously. Then she puts her hands up to one side of her face and waggles her fingers. She is miming someone playing the flute!
    ‘Yes, I have heard this story before,’ says Kim. ‘And Jacqueline told me your grandparents were called Chan.’
    ‘Like me, yes.’
    ‘Well, it’s a very common name, of course. But I think it would be too much coincidence to have two stories like that. I think that your grandfather is Auntie Luli’s brother.’
    ‘What, Uncle Jing, you mean?’ says Jonathan.
    ‘Is he … is he still alive?’ I ask.
    ‘Yes, he is. Actually, he still lives in the old house – it’s just across the road. But he spends most of his time in the Centre for the Elderly. They have lots of activities there – even Tai Chiand ping-pong. In the evenings, he’s at home but he just likes being by himself. He doesn’t like going out or having visitors – even us.’
    ‘And his wife – my grandmother?’
    Kim shakes her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid she died four years ago.’
    ‘Oh.’
    Why do I feel so sad about someone I’ve never met?
    ‘Of course, we didn’t have your father’s address, to tell him.’
    ‘No, of course not.’
    I don’t just feel sad, I feel angry, angry with Dad. Why did he never tell me properly about his mother? Why did he never make up with her? And now it’s too late, for all of us.
    A tear drops into my rice bowl, then another one. I wipe my eyes furiously but more tears form.
    ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Could I just go to the toilet?’
    When I come out, Jacqueline and Kim are in thesitting room. Jacqueline pats a place beside her on the sofa and puts a protective arm round me. ‘The boys are listening to music, and