[Josée's Note: The child in Ceinwyn's post "Turn the Page", is Frank. I adored writing Frank's thumb-in-mouth speech, as it was so much fun trying to figure out how to write a small child talking in that way.]
A Grandmother's Tale
Marie tells her grandson a true bedtime story.
"Grandma, Grandma!! Will you tell me one of your stories at bedtime?" Asked her excitable six-year-old grandson, Frank. Marie laughed, her once long, olive black hair now shorter and silver. Her face was lined from years of emotion, and she looked weary, though her eyes still had a youthful sparkle. As they climbed the stairs together; Marie's hand held by the fragile grip of the small boy, Marie chuckled.
"Every time you come over, you ask for the same old stories. Don't you get bored?" She asked him, smiling gently. "Don't you want me to read you a book - you have hundreds of them. What about one about dragons?" She queried.
"Don't like dragons." Her grandson replied, sulkily.
"Trains, then?" She guessed. Frank shook his head, determinedly. "Ghosts?" She asked, with a wry smile. "All little boys love a good ghost story."
"Not. Me." Frank said, defiantly. "I want to hear your stories, Grandma. I want to hear about the Germans, and the fighting, and Talon." He persisted. The emphasis on the word "Talon" made Marie raise an eyebrow. She sighed softly. "His name wasn't "Talon", Frank. His name was Ri..."
"Richard" said the young boy, impatiently. "I know, I know! But you call him Talon, Grandma. Why can't I?" Marie picked up her grandson lovingly, and gave him a hug, before walking into his bedroom and sitting down on his bed, Frank sitting on her lap. She brushed one of the curls on his forehead out of his face, and looked at him, almost wistfully.
"Things were different back then, Frank." She replied, softly. "He was a soldier. You never dared call a soldier by their first name. I called him Talon because it was a sign of respect."
"I respect him too, Grandma!" Her grandson piped up, and saluted, and she had to smile. "But you didn't like him to begin with, did you, Grandma?" Prompted Frank. "You thought he was...he was..." His face creased with determination as he tried to remember the word. "A....a....ar..." He stuttered.
"Arrogant." Replied Marie, with a small sigh. "Yes." She began to get Frank dressed for bed. "I thought he was very arrogant indeed. And foolhardy."
"Fool...what?" Asked Frank, confused.
"He took risks without thinking, dear." She replied, as she pulled his pyjama top over his head. "He jumped into things without thinking ahead." She lifted the corner of the quilt and Frank crawled in quickly, knowing that his Grandmother was almost on the edge of starting the story properly.
"One of his friends got hurt, didn't they?" Frank asked eagerly, as Marie tucked him in. Marie smiled softly. She had never told her children, let alone her young grandchild the truth...that she had been the one to injure him.
"Yes, he did." She replied, being careful to keep her tone level and soft. "He was hurt, and near a German camp."
"And Talon was there!" The young boy shouted excitably.
"Shh!" Marie said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Yes, Talon was there. I tried to pretend I hadn't seen him - he and I weren't very good friends. But he saw me." Marie straightened her skirt, and then continued. "I offered to help his friend, but one of Talon's men had a plan...that they could try and get into the camp and find out some things by being very clever." She said, softly, feeling a twinge of guilt. The clever man she was speaking of was none other than Frank's namesake, and had once been her closest ally, best friend...and the one whose child she had borne many, many years ago...and that child, in turn, had become Frank's father. But Frank didn't need to know...not yet. She hadn't spoken to her son of his father until he had asked her when he turned fourteen or fifteen. Her grandson was too young to know of those days of old...and of the Hunter cell she and his grandfather had created. Not even her son knew of those days.
Her lips had pursed, and she had stopped talking. Frank, impatient as ever, pushed her from her reverie. "Talon said no to you, didn't he, Grandma? He did what his friend told him to!" Shaking her head slightly, as if to fling her thoughts away from her, Marie chuckled gently.
"Yes, he did. He didn't need my help...and he did as his friend had suggested." She continued. "The group of them went straight through the gates, ("Because two of them were in German uniform!" Interjected Frank) indeed, and Talon pretended he had been caught by them." Maria said, her eyes lighting up as she recalled it. "I saw him taken into the "Interrogation" section, which was always bad news. I was the leader of the resistance in that part of France, so I gathered my best people together to create some papers to tell the Germans that something really bad was happening." She carried on.
"The British were invading again!!" Cried her grandson.
"I ran all the way back to the camp, and begged to see the Kommandant." She continued.
"He was the leader of the camp!" Added Frank, who received a nod from his Grandmother.
"I was told to go meet him, and they pointed me to the same block Talon had been taken to. I went over and knocked on the door, and the Kommandant let me in. I told him what I had to tell him and handed him the papers. Talon seemed to be okay, so I didn't worry about him. I was told to go to another part of the camp, and so I left. I walked across to the other block, and I saw another of Talon's men - the same one who had been hurt - all better, and he went in first."
"And then they decided to leave, so you had to hide!" Said Frank, enjoying himself far too much.
"Yes." Replied Marie. "I wasn't dressed like a soldier...and because I was a girl, I wouldn't have been able to have been a soldier." She added.
"There are lots of girls in the Army now, Granny." Frank replied, earnestly. "You could be a soldier now." Marie laughed.
"Not now. I'm a little out of practice, my boy. Now, shh!" She winked at him. "I went back to the Kommandant and told him his men were leaving. He sat me down, and got a little nasty."
"But Talon kept distracting him!" Interrupted Frank, almost positively bouncing on the bed. "And you were able to kill him!" He continued, wide-eyed and overexcitable. Maria looked slightly embarrassed.
"After that, Talon and I left the building and went out to the drill place, where the German soldiers practiced marching and all other kinds of things. He met up with his friends, and I left to find my team." She said, now looking at the wall as if seeing the image unfolding before her eyes. "When I returned, the main control tower was in pieces, and there was a plane coming down, shooting at us all" She said, again, telling half-truths. It was more like a giant, bat...thing, with leathery wings and a foul temper. "One of his friends was in a tank, shooting it, like me and my team." She began once more, only to be cut off by Frank.
"Buttheplanecametowardshimandflippeditoverandalmostkilledhim!!" Frank said, so hurriedly it sounded like a single word.
"Yes," replied Marie, glad her grandson was still too young to realise that that was an almost impossible situation. "And Talon was inside the ruined control tower, when the plane came towards it."
"But he was fine!" Said her grandson, with a grin on his face. Marie looked at him and forced a smile too.
"Yes." She said faintly. "Yes...he was fine." She echoed. Frank huffed a bit. Every time they got to this bit, his Grandma would go a little odd and sit looking like she was a bit sad. She never said she was though when he asked.
Marie hated lying and fabricating so much history to her family, but she had told the "revised" tale to her son, who, like Frank, adored it and wanted to hear it time and time again. She couldn't say that Talon had seemed a bit "off" when he walked out of the tower...she had even checked his pulse and heartbeat just in case. And there was no way she could tell her son, nor her grandson that it had been their father (in her son's case) and grandfather (in Frank's case) who had first figured out what was wrong.
Marie cleared her throat. "As we went to leave the camp, one of Talon's friends reappeared. He was badly hurt, and he needed medical attention...and fast. I wasn't any good with bandages, but I helped him leave the camp by having him lean on me if he needed to." She paused, took a deep breath and continued. "When we got to a clearing, it was clear that his friend would be unable to go home, back to England, in the state he was in. So...I offered to stay with him in France, and look after him. But it meant that I wouldn't be able to go with Talon to the border and see him go home."
Frank, from nowhere, one hand with a thumb in his mouth, patted his Grandmother's arm with the other. "You dimd'mt bink he was...silly...emmy more, did you, Gran'ma?"
Marie smiled softly at her grandson and then at her lap. "No...no I didn't. In fact...I thought he was a very brave man. I thought he was very kind to his men, and he liked them all. I thought he was a good man...not a silly one any more, Frank." Frank smiled, and he patted her arm once more before bringing it back beneath the duvet.
"The last time I saw Richard Talon, he was walking away from the camp, while his friend and I watched him and a couple of other soldiers go out towards England." She said, wistfully.
"Like a sheriff! Walking into the sunset at the end of the film!" Said Frank, removing his thumb before speaking, this time. Marie ruffled his hair lovingly and nodded gently.
"Just like a sheriff walking into the sunset, Frank." She replied, a sorrowful look on her face.
"What's wrong, Grandma?" Frank said, suddenly, after a second or two. Marie looked at him, his fresh, young face looking up at her, worried. She smiled, her eyes still betraying her sadness, and she said, softly.
"I just wish I'd told him - at that moment - that he was a brave, loyal man. And that I was proud to have been able to help him."
Frank looked at her, barely understanding what she meant, but he lifted both his arms up to her, and silently asked her for a cuddle. Seeing this, something which a mother innately yearns to respond to, she leant down and gave her grandson a gentle kiss on the cheek and a tender hug. As she did so, she felt an involuntary teardrop carve its way down her face. Wiping it away surreptitiously before sitting back up, she stood up and smoothed her skirt down again. As she walked towards the door of the room, she turned back to Frank, now curled up, his thumb back in his mouth, and his arm wrapped around a little brown teddy bear, dressed in a mini-version of the British uniform from World War II. She looked at the image of peace and calm in front of her, her eyes lingering for a second on the bear, and then said, tenderly.
"Sleep well, my little one. Sleep well."
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