Mike had already set off in Herr Grunder’s car to meet the driver of the Yorkshire coach at a halfway point and retrieve Shirley’s suitcase. Bill was left in sole charge of the group.
‘Now, don’t forget it’s our al fresco meal tonight,’ he told them. ‘We will be having a barbecue meal outside, weather permitting, and it hasn’t let us down so far. Then we’re being entertained by a group of local lads and lasses with dancing and singing and all manner of jollity. We’ll have a rare old time, I promise you. So, ten o’clock at the coach this morning, please, ladies and gents.’
Bill suggested to Mavis that she should travel to Freiburg with the rest of the group and spend some time in the town before going to the hospital to see Arthur. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind you spending an hour or two with your friends, will he?’ he said, ‘especially as he’s feeing so much better.’
‘I’d love to,’ agreed Mavis, ‘and of course he won’t mind, but he might be expecting me to come earlier.’
Bill offered to phone the hospital and say that she would be there at around two o’clock. She would get a taxi to take her the short distance and spend the afternoon with him.
Arthur was, indeed, feeling much better. It had been a heart attack, sure enough, but milder than they had thought at first. He was vexed, though, that he was still stuck there in hospital – albeit in a little room to himself – instead of enjoying the holiday with the rest of the group. And Mavis was missing the trips as well, although she didn’t seem to mind about that, bless her. She was full of concern for him, spending hours each day with him and trying to keep him cheerful.
‘Could you imagine I’d be stuck here at the mercy of a load of Germans,’ he had complained to her, though half jokingly. ‘Who’d have thought it would come to this, eh?’
He had to admit, though, that he was being treated with kindness and consideration and the German doctors and nurses seemed to know what they were doing. They spoke good English, too.
‘And that’s more than you can say for us,’ Mavis told him. ‘Us speaking German, I mean. We haven’t a clue.’
‘They learnt it at school,’ said Arthur, a trifle dismissively. ‘They had to when we won the war; they were a conquered nation and our troops were over here. Still, I can’t complain about the treatment I’m getting.’ He was finding that there was very little to grouse about.
He was greeted on Saturday morning at about ten o’clock by a young nurse whom he hadn’t seen before.
‘Good morning, Mr Johnson,’ she said, which was unusual for a start. They usually used the title of ‘Herr’, rather than the English version. ‘I have a message for you from your wife. She will be coming to see you, but it will be later, at two o’clock. She is spending some time in Freiburg with her friends … I think the message is correct. You understand it, yes?’
‘Yes, that makes sense,’ he replied. The nurse was a pretty young woman, neat and trim in her blue uniform which matched the colour of her eyes. Her dark hair waved attractively under the brim of her little cap. She reminded him rather of Mavis when she was young; Arthur could still appreciate a pretty face and figure. From her name tag he read that she was called Ingrid Hoffman.
He smiled at her. ‘I haven’t seen you before.’
‘No, I have just returned after a few days’ leave. I will be looking after you now. You are recovering well, I am told?’
‘Yes, I’m doing nicely, thanks,’ he replied. ‘I must say that you speak good English. The others do, but yours is very good indeed.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, thank you. That is because I am part English. Just … a quarter English. Oma, my grandmother, was from England – from Yorkshire. She married my grandfather after the war. He was there, in England, you see.’
‘You mean they met during the war?’ Arthur was beginning to understand what she meant, but it was difficult to put it tactfully.
‘Ya … yes. He was prisoner of war.’ Whilst she tidied his bed, checked his temperature and his pulse, and made him comfortable she told him more.
‘My grandfather – Opa, I call him – he was in the Luftwaffe, air force, you say, and his plane was shot down. He was not hurt, that was lucky. He was in a camp, then he worked on a farm. And there he met my Oma. She worked on the farm, too. So they were friendly, you see?’
‘She was in the Land Army, was she?’
‘Yes, she said she was a land girl. My grandfather, he stayed in Yorkshire after the war. They were married, two years later, I think, and they lived there for a little while. But he wished to come home. The hills in Yorkshire were very lovely, but they were not the hills of home. That is what he said to Oma. So she came with him to Freiburg, to his home, and they had their family. My father, then my aunt … then I was born. So, you see, I know a little about England. My grandmother, she tells me, and she speaks to me in English, sometimes. She is a lovely lady.’
‘So your grandmother is still living?’
‘Yes, and my grandfather. They will be same age as you, I think.’
‘Yes, they would be, I suppose.’ Arthur nodded thoughtfully. ‘You talk about the war … I was in the war, in the army though, not the air force. I spent some time here afterwards. But it is all a long time ago now.’
‘Yes, and we are all friends now, are we not?’ said Ingrid. ‘We have the European Union. And your Tony Blair, he likes to – how do you say it? – keep us on our toes.’
‘You can say that again!’ answered Arthur, but he did not want to be drawn into politics.
‘He is good ambassador for your country, I think …’
‘We could do worse,’ said Arthur, thinking again that his new nurse had an excellent command of English.
‘I am very pleased to meet you, Mr Johnson,’ she said. ‘Now I leave you in peace. I bring you your lunch in a little while.’
A very pleasant young woman, he mused, when she left him. And that was very interesting, her grandfather bring a prisoner of war in Yorkshire. He had heard that they were very well treated, and many of them had met and married English girls. He felt that he would not have liked it if his sister, for instance, had decided to marry a German. She hadn’t, of course, but if she had he would not have approved.
All the same, it seemed to have worked out well for this family. This Ingrid was a lovely young woman. What age would she be? he wondered. Probably in her mid-twenties; the same age as one of his granddaughters.
She returned with his lunch at twelve o’clock; a sort of hamburger with a small amount of mashed potato and cabbage.
‘I have an idea,’ she told him. ‘You go on eating while I tell you. Do not let your lunch go cold. My Opa – I tell you he was in camp in Yorkshire – I think he would like to meet you. He lives here, in Freiburg, with my Oma. I finish here at six o’clock and I will phone and tell him about you. It is coincidence, I think, very good coincidence. I ask him to come and see you, yes?’
Arthur was nonplussed, but how could he refuse? She was such a nice friendly girl and she was doing her best to please him. ‘Why not?’ he answered, smiling at her. ‘It will be good to have a visitor, but don’t pressure him. Do you know what I mean? Make sure he really wants to come.’
‘Yes, I understand, but I know he will be very pleased to meet you. Now, you eat your lunch. I bring you cup of coffee soon, then your wife, she will be coming to see you. Yes?’
‘Yes, so she will. Thank you … Ingrid. May I call you Ingrid?’
‘Yes, of course you may. It will please me very much.’
Mavis spent an enjoyable morning in Freiburg with Shirley and Ellen who had insisted that she should accompany them. Most of the people on the coach continued to enquire about Arthur, and she felt that she was amongst friends. Now that he was improving she decided that she must try to relax and make the most of the day. It was a pity he couldn’t be with her, but she would see him again soon.
They found that Freiburg was a delightful medieval city with a modern shopping area as well. They wander
ed through the narrow streets of the old town, alongside fast flowing rivulets at the sides of the road. They had once been sluices carrying away the sewage, but were now perfectly clean and added to the charm of the place. They admired the Rathausplatz with its early Renaissance town hall, and the Zum Roten Baren – the Red Bear Inn – which claimed to be the oldest inn in Germany.
When they were tired of wandering they ended up in the Munsterplatz, the main square of the city. They looked in admiration at the Munster, reputed to be one of the most splendid medieval minster churches in Germany. Its 380-foot tower loomed over the square. In its shadow was the picturesque town market, buzzing with activity, especially on a Saturday morning. The tourists mingled with the housewives doing their weekly shopping, stopping now and again to listen to the street musicians and hearing the ranting of an itinerant preacher near to the church.
The stalls were a wondrous sight, a medley of rich colours and appetizing smells against the background of chatter and laughter and the cries of the stall vendors. There were fruit and vegetable stalls galore, with all manner of produce. Piles of oranges, and apples in russet, green and red; luscious strawberries, raspberries and gooseberries, figs and fresh dates; enormous cabbages and cauliflowers; strings of onions, lettuces, tomatoes, huge bunches of radishes. The tourists, in the main, did not want to shop there, but they gazed in wonder at the tempting displays which seemed, somehow, to be more attractive than they were at home.
Farmers’ wives were selling the produce of their farms – eggs, cheese, butter, jars of jam and marmalade, pickles and chutneys. There were flower stalls, too, the fragrance of the lilies and roses, and the more pungent dahlias and chrysanthemums scenting the summer air. Pot plants as well – begonias, fuchsias and geraniums, sturdy and healthy looking blooms – but the ladies decided they would be impractical to transport all the way back to England.
Across from the fruit and vegetable stalls were stalls of possibly more interest to the tourists. Here were all sorts of gifts and handicrafts, many of them produced locally. Pottery mugs and plates; wooden toys; floppy dolls, clowns and furry animals; embroidered tablecloths, napkins and mats – probably machine made but still most attractive – and dried flowers fashioned into posies and garlands to hang in a kitchen.
The three ladies meandered amongst these stalls for a while, trying to decide what they would like to buy. There were so many things to tempt them. They met others from their coach tour, notably the women, wandering around like children in a toy shop. The menfolk, on the whole, had decided it was not much in their line and had drifted away to have a smoke or to partake of a beer in one of the many cafes and bars around the square. Not surprisingly they bumped into Jane, on her own for once.
‘Where’s Dave?’ asked Shirley. ‘Not far away, I guess?’
‘No, he’s having a mooch round on his own. There are some old Dinky cars and some old German toys on a stall over there, and ancient postcards and books. More to his liking than this sort of thing. Some of it’s a load of tat, isn’t it?’ she remarked, lowering her voice. ‘But I must admit I like those tablecloths, and the floral arrangements are very attractive.’
‘Yes, so they are,’ agreed Shirley. ‘But you have to be discriminating or you’ll end up buying a lot of junk! You arrive home and ask yourself why on earth you bought it.’
After another ten minutes or so of lingering and pondering they all decided to buy a dried flower arrangement, of varying designs, and embroidered tablecloths for that special occasion, such as Christmas or a birthday. Jane chose some dressing table mats for her mother, maybe a little old-fashioned she thought. They were not used so much now, but Mother liked that sort of thing and they had a rose design and a pretty crocheted edging.
Jane was meeting Dave for lunch at a cafe they had already picked out, overlooking the market square. The other three went with her, and found him already sitting there enjoying an ice-cold lager. Jane joined him under the shade of the large green umbrella, and the others sat at a vacant table nearby. They were glad to escape from the heat of the sun and to rest their aching feet.
After they had enjoyed the lunch of their choice – as usual the menu was vast and varied – it was time for Mavis to leave the others and find her way to the hospital. Shirley and Ellen went with her to locate a taxi at a rank not far away, leaving Jane and Dave to enjoy a refreshing lemon sorbet, then a cup of strong coffee to fortify them for the rest of their time in Freiburg. The city streets, quaint and charming as they were, felt claustrophobic in the midday heat.
‘I’ve enjoyed it, but a half day here is long enough,’ said Jane. ‘We’re not used to this heat, are we? It will be nice to get back to the hotel and rest for a while.’
Dave agreed. ‘Yes, and it’s party time tonight. I wonder what they’ve got in store for us?’
‘Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,’ said Jane contentedly.
Dave knew what he intended to do. Tonight he would ask Jane if she might consider planning a future with him.
Mavis found Arthur much improved. His colour was better; the pale grey pallor had gone and he was in good spirits. She told him about the pleasant morning she had spent in Freiburg.
‘It’s a lovely old town, Arthur. I’m so sorry you missed it. It was tiring, though, walking round in the sunshine. We kept trying to find patches of shade, so it might have proved a bit too much for you. Anyway, I’m pleased to see you looking so much better. Is there any news about when you can come home? Come out of here, I mean. We’ll be able to travel back on the coach on Tuesday, won’t we? Or would the journey be too much for you?’
‘For goodness’ sake, Mavis! We’ve got to get back somehow, haven’t we?’ A touch of the old irritable Arthur showed for a moment, then he grinned again. ‘The alternative would be to fly, and you know I won’t do that. They wouldn’t let me anyway, not after I’ve had a heart attack, The doctor’s coming to see me this afternoon while you’re here, so he’ll tell us when they’re going to let me out.’ He chuckled. ‘Sounds as though I’m in jail, doesn’t it? But I can’t complain. They’re treating me very well.’
And that, coming from Arthur, was praise indeed! Not even a remark like, ‘Considering that they’re Germans!’
Mavis had another surprise when a pretty young nurse came into the room and greeted Arthur as though she had known him for ages.
‘Hello again, Mr Johnson.’ She beamed at him. ‘And this is your wife, yes?’
‘Yes, this is Mavis, my good lady wife. Mavis, this is Ingrid. She’s looking after me now.’
The two of them shook hands. ‘I am very pleased to know you, Mrs Johnson,’ said Ingrid. ‘Your husband, he tell me about you. And I understand because, as I tell Arthur, my grandmother – my Oma, I call her – she is English. And so we have – what is it you say? – some things in common?’
‘That’s good,’ replied Mavis. She was certainly a pretty girl. No wonder there was a gleam in Arthur’s eye! ‘Thank you for looking after him.’
‘It is no problem. And tonight he will have a visitor. I already ring my Opa, Mr Johnson, and he say yes, he will be pleased to come and see you.’
Mavis was mystified. ‘What’s all this about?’ she asked.
Arthur explained, a little apologetically, she thought. ‘Ingrid’s grandfather – her Opa, she calls him – he was in the war, like me. He was … er … his plane came down, in Yorkshire, so he was a prisoner, you see. He worked on a farm, and he met an English girl. Then he married her after the war; she’s Ingrid’s grandmother. And Ingrid thought … she wondered if I would like to meet him. So I said yes, I would.’
‘Good for you, Arthur!’ said Mavis. My goodness! she thought to herself. That was a turn up for the book. Arthur agreeing to meet a former enemy! She couldn’t make any comment, though, with that nice young nurse being there.
‘I hope you have an interesting time together,’ she said, ‘reminiscing about … everything. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk abo
ut.’
‘Yes, I’m sure will,’ said Arthur, with a touch of irony, or had she only imagined that?
‘So I won’t come and see you this evening, then you can have a good chat with your visitor, just man to man.’
‘Aye, I suppose so.’ He nodded thoughtfully. She could tell he was none too sure about it.
‘Anyway, there’s a party on at the hotel tonight,’ she told him. ‘I was feeling guilty about being there without you, but now I won’t feel so bad.’
‘Yes, you go and enjoy it, love,’ said Arthur. ‘What sort of a party? I don’t suppose it will be a wild abandoned affair, will it?’
‘I doubt it.’ She smiled. ‘It’s what they call an al fresco meal. You know, a barbecue sort of thing, eaten out of doors. Then there’s an entertainment by a local group, singing and dancing and that sort of thing. It’ll be a nice change.’
Ingrid didn’t stay long. She took Arthur’s pulse and temperature again before saying goodbye to Mavis.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Johnson. Now, you look after Arthur when you get back to England. I am hoping he will be well, for a long long time.’
‘I hope so, too,’ said Mavis. ‘Goodbye, my dear. Lovely to meet you.’
‘I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?’ said Arthur, ‘when she asked me if I’d like to meet this chap. What have I let myself in for, I wonder?’
‘It will be fine, Arthur,’ she told him. ‘He married that English girl, didn’t he? So he must have got to know quite a bit about life in our country. You’ll be polite and friendly towards him, won’t you, Arthur?’
‘Of course I will! What d’you think I’m going to do? Start an argument as soon as we meet? I’ll be as nice as pie, I promise you.’ He chuckled. ‘Who’d have thought it, though, eh? Me having a tête-à-tête with a German!’
First Impressions Page 17
