Riding Home 36

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CHAPTER 36
We had a day to play with before the drive back to Caen, and after the boys had recovered we allowed the children to show us the bits of Paris they had liked best, which included the view of the city as night fell, from the only viewpoint imaginable.

My mind went back to that day by the quarry overlooking Llanddeusant, and watching two of our party reminded me that we all do it, we all fix memory to place as mine had been fixed to smell. It was wonderful seeing how Darren and Chantelle revelled in their self-appointed role as tour guides, and we finished the evening at the top of the Tower only after a half-decent meal at a chain restaurant.

The place was chosen because it carries an all-you-can-eat vegetable buffet, and two of our number were just short of auto-cannibalism. There is a very rude remark there, just bursting to get out, but not here, not now.

The drive back to the ferryport was a little more subdued, but we livened the children up with a quick trip out to the museum at Arromanches and a short but salient lesson in what happens when people stop being excellent to one another. Darren was pensive.

“This like Private Ryan, yeah?”

“Yes, love, just like that, but without Tom Hanks, just a lot of men from pit villages in Durham or shops in London, aye? No big stars, just ordinary men doing what they had to”

I heard another small voice. “Like that copper who came to the caravan, yeah? An’ got shot?”

“Yes, Shan, just like Richard. Just a lot more bullets, and they knew they would be shot at, aye? Look, one day we’ll go and see the big museum in Caen. There are some very big cemeteries around, as well”

Darren shook his head. “No. Not the sort of place to go as a tourist thing. Not respectful, lahk”

I looked at my new son. “Yes. I agree. Daz, I have seen too many people dead to want to go and look at graves, not like these, aye? If we had….”

I closed my eyes for an instant. “Darren, how much do you know about your family history?”

“A bit”

“Well, here’s a thing for you. I know Naomi is big on history, your Nan, aye? If things go well, you get a new family, we all get one, but you still have people who went before you, and we don’t close them out, aye? We see if we can put a bit of history to you, something to make you proud of your old family”

“They were shits”

I looked him in the eye then. “You don’t know that. Look, my brother, I had one, he was killed as a soldier. We are still proud of him, though he could never have understood me. Eric and me, we will give you our love, we will give you a home, aye, but you bring more than just yourself. You don’t lose your history, we share it, aye?”

“So you think I got a like soldier buried somewhere, family an’ stuff?”

“It is possible, or you have an ancestor who was in the forces, that’s much more likely. Shan, it’ll be the same for you, unless your family is all Irish, and even then, well, you never know. Look, it would just be a good thing to know who you are. What do you think?”

They shared a glance, and Darren took on the spokesman’s role.

“You think Nan can help?”

I smiled. “I know it. Not only that, it’s all computer stuff now…”

“Granddad! Give him something to do in bed, lahk!”

Seed sown. All I wanted was to find something to ground them, someone they could take pride in, and the wreckage of the old invasion harbour had led me to it. Just to rub it in, we went back via Pegasus Bridge and its preserved tank.

The voyage back delivered us to Portsmouth in the late evening, and I splashed out on some cheap…ish watches for the two of them on the boat. They were tired, but still excited as the first lights of the Wight coast came into sight, and then Pompey, and its tower, and then once more we were rolling off the ferry. The two youngest had their little moment together, just making sure the snogs still worked, and then we were off, the girls along the coast and the rest of us up the A3 towards the M25 and home.

Darren was asleep on the last leg, as was Mark, and Eric and I shared a smile together as each of them slumped sideways to rest their heads on Kelly’s shoulders. She just sighed theatrically and did her best not to disturb them till Jan dropped us off at ours before the final run to Woodruff Towers. Home.

We watched the red lights recede up the road, and Eric hugged me before kissing my cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Being there for me, and still having time for the lad.. Multi-tasking, typical woman”

“Well, this woman’s next task is to get round a cuppa, so do your duty, oh man of mine. I want a shower”

Needless to say, we ended up drinking our tea in the shower together, which took some judicious positioning, and then we made sure we got clean. Afterwards, as Eric just held me under the spray, I whispered to him, “We won’t be able to do that once he moves in, aye?”

Eric just laughed. “I’ll buy a lock tomorrow. Some things we don’t give up, AYE?”

“Oh shut up and wash my hair”

Work again the next day, as inevitable as rain on a holiday weekend, and it was still the makework while the schools were shut. Den was in on the early turn that day, and he had a CD he had prepared of little DA, every inch the proud father, and the station staff did the rounds, the obligatory oohs and aahs coming to order. Nev was on form, as usual.

“How the hell did someone as scary as Ruth ever produce THAT? Come to think of it, I dunno, Den, that is too good-looking an infant to be yours. Sure there wasn’t a visit from the milkman? Ow!”

That was what left me smiling. In many ways the nick was a family of its own, pulling together whenever needed. Even Costello and his friend were coming onto my side, as the Job closed its ranks around me like a mother hen brooding its chicks. There is a lot written about “canteen culture”, the protection of the corrupt by colleagues, but that was not our way. More than anything, Den typified that, a policeman who had even shopped his own lover when he saw where her loyalties truly lay, how little her oath meant. Without fear or favour…

Jim broke the mood. “Sergeant Price, may I have a word?”

Very formal; I popped into his little broom cupboard.

“Take a seat, Annie, I have some news, not quite sure what to make of it. Coffee?”

“No ta. What you got for me?”

“You are still in contact with that little girl, I know that. It’s more to do with her than with you, so I was wondering if you could do the necessary? It’s her grandmother, had a massive coronary in Holloway. Bang, lights out sort of thing”

I considered my reply for a few seconds. I had never gloated at the death of anyone, but the temptation was there, just that once. The old bitch had never, ever shown any contrition, any shame, arrogant to the end, but she was still Shan’s family, and the only one we knew of.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Course”

I dialled the number for Ginny’s health club, and fortunately she wasn’t with a client.

“Hiya, sexy!”

“Hi there, Gilbey girl, got some news, aye?”

“What? You’re eloping to Gretna?”

“No, closer to home…”

“Dorking?”

“Shut up and be sensible, aye? It’s about Shan’s grandmother”

“What, is the old harpy dead at last?”

“Er, yeah…”

“Oh shit…I didn’t mean…no, fuck it, I did mean it, fucking good riddance”

She paused. “No, that’s not fair, is it? What do you want us to do?”

“Would you prefer me to come down and tell her?”

“No, that’s what mums are for. Annie, what’s she going to say?”

“I don’t know, love. I mean, all that talk the other day, you know, family history and that, aye? Look, you know her better than me, so…let me know, aye? Tell you what, I will tee Darren up, and then, if she needs an ear, aye?”

“Aye. I mean yeah. Look, got a punter due, you home tonight? Could we do the train thing up? If she takes it bad, let the dog see the rabbit, yeah?”

“You sure?”

“Fuck, yeah! Times like this, a girl needs all her family!”

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Comments

Visiting war graves ...

... may start out as a touristy thing but the experience itself very quickly sobers you up. You can't cycle tour in northern France for years without coming across a fair few. The Normandy ones are sobering for their size; just seeing those white crosses and Stars of David in straight lines stretching so far across an immaculate lawn soon squeezes out and rubber neck tendencies.

We cycled in the Somme in June and came across a relatively small British cemetery more or less by chance. I felt it would have been disrespectful not to stop and pay a little homage to the men who died in what was then a muddy hell and is now beautiful rolling countryside. Many were teenagers before the term was ever used. There are small cemeteries scattered about and each well-maintained. I may be the only family visitor to my uncle's grave; he was killed in 1917 when my father was only 8. So very sad. I'm almost a pacifist but I can still appreciate the sacrifice.

Glad Eric and Geoff made the PBP OK. A clubmate of mine will be riding his 5th or 6th this year.

Thanks, Steph.

Robi

One Of My Grandfathers

joannebarbarella's picture

Is in one of those graves in the Somme region. We went looking for it once but couldn't find it in the many rows of crosses.

As you say, just another ordinary young man from the East End of London. Maybe he wasn't so ordinary but I never had a chance to find out. I didn't know either of my grandfathers, perhaps not so unusual for people of my age, but a real reminder that war is not a movie,

Joanne

It's a bit hokey

Actually it's a lot hokey, but still true:

Unforgiveness is like taking poison and hoping the other person will die. What other people do to us or the ones we love shouldn't change who we are or who we strive to be. Here's hoping that they can let it go.

If all the deaths in the war tell us anything, first and foremost it should be that every life has value.

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

Riding Home 36

Wonder how Shan will react?

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

It's important,

/

A Nice ride around Manchester to finish off the Sparkle weekend.

It's important for kids to have some sort of history so Annie did Darren a good turn there. Apparently I lost two paternal uncles in the Atlantic and Arctic convoys. My brother tells me their names are on the Merchant Memorial down in London, Easy to find, Both Hulse and they are also on the Liverpool memorial on the Pier Head. otherwise, 'No known grave'. No certain location to visit and fix a memory.

I suppose I should go and show my respects cos' they certainly never did me any harm and they, like me, were in the Merchant Navy, but somehow, well; I just never find the time.
Must have been a fantastic trip for the kids though, Paris has so much to offer.
Nice chapter Steph.

Thanks again.

Bev.

XZXX

bev_1.jpg

Good chapter, glad the old

Good chapter, glad the old bags dead, even though Shan was abused I imagine it'll still hit hard.

My parents divorced when I was 1yrs old, I saw my genetic father maybe 10-20 times my whole life, he died a few years ago, I was suprised at how upset I was, I think for me I was more upset about never being able to tell him how I felt at what I saw as abandonment all because he didn't want to upset his new wife. Never being able to express my disapointment that when it came to her or me he hadn't the backbone to choose to see his own child.

I wouldn't be suprised if Shan feels a little cheated at not being able to properly tell her nan what utter scum she was, and show her how much better her life is, that the taint forced on her by her abuse wont stop her having a great life, that in the end Shan has won.

Looking forward to more

Lizzie :)

Yule

Bailey's Angel
The Godmother :p

Thread Necromancy.

My father in the Royal Navy, sailed one of the concrete breakwaters over to build the Mulberry Harbour at Arromanche.

It was odd, both him and his brother were in the Navy in WW2 and both from Hampshire, he went around the world 3 times, his brother got as far afield as Yeovil!

In general his side have a habit of coming home from the wars.

__

Estarriol

I used to be normal, but I found the cure....