by Ken Follett
"How did you trick them?" David asked, with the child'? assumption
that his forebears did everything in history.
"Well, see, we made them think Grandpa's voice became low and
conspiratorial, and the child giggled in anticipation.
"We made them think we were going to attack Calais ' That's in France,
not Germany."
"Yes, but the Germans were all over France, then. The Froggies didn't
defend themselves as well as we did."
Jo said: "Nothing to do with the fact that we're an island, of
course."
Ann shushed him.
"Let Grandpa tell his war stories."
"Anyway," Grandpa continued, 'we made them think we were going to
attack Calais, so they put all their tanks and soldiers there." He
used a cushion to represent France, an ashtray for the Germans, and a
penknife for the Allies.
"But we attacked Normandy, and there was nobody there but old Rommel
and a few pop-guns! Cunning and stealth, see?"
"Didn't they find out about the trick?" David asked.
"They nearly did. In fact, there was one spy who found out. Now not
many people know that, but I know because I was a spy catcher in the
war."
"What happened to the spy?"
We killed him before he could tell."
"Did you kill him, Grandpa?"
"No Grandma did."
David's eyes widened.
"Grandma killed him?"
Grandma came in carrying a teapot, and said: "Fred Bloggs, are you
frightening the children?"
"Why shouldn't they know?" he groused.
"She's got a medal, you know. She won't tell me where she keeps it
because she doesn't like me showing it to visitors."
Grandma was pouring tea.
"It's all over now, and best forgotten, just as Jo says. Anyway, not
much good came out of it." She handed a cup and saucer to Grandpa.
He took her arm and held her there.
"Some good came out of it," he said. His voice was suddenly quite
gentle, all the elderly grumpiness gone.
"I met a hero, and married her."
They looked at each other for a moment. Her beautiful hair was
pepper-and-salt now, and she wore it in a bun. She was heavier than
she used to be. For years her clothes had always been fashionable and
glamorous, but she no longer had the figure for haute couture. But her
eyes were still the same: large and amber, and remarkably beautiful.
Those eyes looked back at him, now, and they both were very still,
remembering the way it had been.
Then David jumped off his Grandpa's lap and knocked the cup of tea to
the floor, and the spell was broken.
