Bye, Bert

The only memory I have of my grandfather is from the late eighties. I sat at the kitchen table of the small Bundaberg flat he and my grandmother lived in while my mother sat outside with Nanna smoking cigarettes. Grandad hummed and poured iced water into a tall glass, then dropped in a tablet of Berocca. To my enchantment, it fizzed and spat and turned the water a spectacular shade of orange. I assumed this was some forbidden adult-substance, like coffee or alcohol, but Grandad suddenly pushed the glass towards me. “You can have the first sip,” he offered with a wink. I immediately adored him.

My grandparents met in Algeria in 1942. My grandfather, Bert, was stationed with British forces there while my grandmother, Annik, worked as a clerk with the French Intendance Supply Corps. Despite his many attempts to talk to her, Annik pretended not to speak English and ignored him until he one day asked her to go to the cinema. All five cinemas were requisitioned for the use of the military and only soliders were allowed to buy tickets – it was a tempting offer. “Alright,” Annik said, “But only with my mother, my grandfather and my brother.” Bert agreed and from that day on became a friend of the family. He and Annik fell in love, then he knocked her up and went to war. The only news my grandmother received of him during the next two years was a telegram saying, “Bert missing in action. Presumed dead.” which one of his sisters had sent in an attempt to stop him from marrying “the French girl.” Another year passed before Nanna received a letter from him saying that he was actually alive, and could she come to England to marry him? She did, and the rest, as they say, is history.

When I was five years old, I was racing through the house one day when I knocked over my mother’s favourite vase. I carefully stacked the pieces so that, from a distance, it looked as normal, and left it on the shelf. Later that night, I heard my mother crying in her bedroom. I went in, head hanging, and told her that I was sorry I broke the vase.
“It was an accident!” I swore, “I’ll get you a new one! Please don’t cry, Mum…”
“No, darling,” she said, “I’m upset because your grandfather died today.”
“Oh!” I said, “That’s good.”
And I went to play with my brother’s transformers.