The following is autobiographical but I've written it in the third person as  I am no longer the girl in the story.

The day that the circus left town

The girl was thirteen and puberty had started, but she was shy and young for her age, with life still centering round home, with her protective parents and younger brother, plus school and girl-guide meetings,   Life was safe, had always been safe, and she hadn't ever had reason to think it wouldn't always be that way.
They weren't rich, but as far as the girl knew, her parents hadn't any particular money worries.
Life  was much the same as always.  It was a quiet dead-end and in summer the children played in the road and ran in out of each other's gardens - sometimes swimming in or canoeing on the nearby river.
The local idea of crime was pinching flowers from a neighbours' garden, which got you a nasty scolding followed by a forced public apology.  In winter kids crowded chattering into bedrooms, sheds or playrooms.  The business of having to wear a bra was a bit odd, but still world was safe, normal, usual.

The christmas after the girl turned 13, grandma came to stay (father's mother, her mother's parents were already dead).  There was a slight tension in the air as mum and grandma had never really got along (grandma saw mother as  slightly lower-class, which puzzled the girl  and her brother), however this was normal too and the two women kept their differences to the odd muttered grumble.
The girl had always enjoyed her grandma's company, partly because grandma used to hide tiny penny toys around her house for children to find.

It was two days after Christmas and grandma was planning to leave next day.  It was breakfast time and by chance the girl was the only one around when grandma came out of her bedroom).      The old lady was in her eighties, but had always moved steadily, so the girl was confused to see that grandma was struggling to walk and couldn't manage to come down the stairs.  She promptly ran up the stairs, and supporting her grandmother firmly, helped her to the kitchen door.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone" said grandma, and when the girl hesitated, "PROMISE ME !" - so she did, and fumbling at the door, grandma went in.

It was worrying - you could get into trouble breaking promises to adults, but grandma wasn't acting right.   She went to her father, "Dad, there's something wrong with grandma.  She said not to tell but she can't walk right and I think she's ill."  He got up and went to his mother.

Next thing the girl knew, grandma was  back int the spare bedroom and doctors were in and out. Her father said she had done the right thing and grandma had had something called a "stroke".  In the afternoon, the girl went in to see her grandma, a bit nervously in case she got scolded for telling, but grandma said she had done the right thing.

The next day, grandma stayed in bed instead of going home. Chatting, she told the girl that she was looking forward to seeing her parents again, which puzzled the girl as they were obviously long gone. The grandma who had always been such a strong, upright and sometimes obstinate argumentative figure in her life seemed to have shrunk.  Just before going to bed the girl looked in at her grandma, who seemed to be asleep but was breathing in an oddly loud uneven way.  As she dozed off in  her room next door, the girl was vaguely aware of different footsteps coming up and down the stairs.

Morning came, the girl ran in to see her grandma - the room was empty, with just a few make-up items to show it's former occupant had ever been there.  "Mum,, where's grandma ?"  Her mother was calmly making breakfast.  "Your grandma died int the night"  "But where's her body ?  I didn't say goodbye".  "The undertakes took it."

Mum turned back to the sink.  The girl realized further discussion wasn't welcome.  In the lounge her father was sitting, looking stunned.  The girl and her brother were not  told of the funeral and never heard much of their grandma again, though later they were presented with a legacy of £50 each.
A safe, secure chunk of the world as it had always been was now not there.

A crack had opened in the world of childhood and it began to leak away as the winds of adulthood started up.  Anything might change.

Parkinson 0, me 1   I win this round, Parkie !

I'm teaching myself to play the English Concertina (sorry, neighbours !) and was finding it difficult because the shaking of my hands kept making the notes warble as my fingers slipped.
This made me mad, so experimented with different positions and discovered that I could brace my arms and prevent most of the shaking by sitting with my feet up on a chair and legs well apart, then holding the  concertina in my hands between my legs and pressing my forearms against the insides of my knees.

I look weird this way, but it works and may be useful for other things.  So, Parkie you bastard that's one round you lost.