Stevie loved his Great Grandad Albert very much. At first, he could not understand what was wrong. He just thought his Grandpops was getting forgetful now that he was elderly. Then one evening, his mum sat him down on the sofa and told him.
“I’m sorry,” she said blinking back the tears. “I know you love Albert just as I do. But think what a long life he has had. He’s even outlived my father.”
Stevie nodded. He had never known his granddad but Grandpops had been a constant in his life since he was a baby.
His mother insisted that the two of them move in with Albert. Stevie’s parents were divorced though on good terms. And, other than an aunt who lived miles away, Stevie and his mum did not have much in the way of family.
There was an unspoken understanding between Stevie and Grandpops. Stevie could not bear to mention the word Alzheimer’s to him, and in return, Grandpops did not mention it either. Albert had always been proudly active all his life, and it was upsetting to watch him struggle.
“I want you to have my grandmother’s engagement ring,” he kept saying to Stevie’s mum.
“I am not sure what ring he means,” said his mum to Stevie later. “I know he still likes to wear his pocket watch. It was given to him when he retired from his job on the railways.
"Albert is ninety-six years old now and so much is in the distant history. Albert’s grandmother, which is your great, great, great grandmother would have been born around in the 1850s, over 170 years ago.”
On Saturday, Stevie and Grandpops sat out in the garden talking.
“I do so want you to meet Ethel,” he said. He pointed to his watch. “She lives in Withermore Road. It’s only just round the corner. We can get to her by three and be back in time for tea.”
Stevie nodded and smiled.
“Who is Ethel?” he asked his mother later.
“She was Albert’s childhood sweetheart,” said his mother. “I believe they both grew up in this area.”
“Albert has lived here all his life?” said Stevie.
“Most of it in this very house,” said his mother. “When he was a young man he went off and did his own thing but when his parents passed away they left him, as their only son, the house. He stayed here with Margaret when they brought up their family. You know she was your great-grandmother.”
“So what happened to Ethel then?” said Stevie curiously.
“It was very sad but she was killed in an air raid,” replied his mother. "Albert was only a couple of years older than you are now. He never talked about it much but his mother, told Margaret when Albert was being difficult. Now his mind is frail he is obviously thinking of Ethel. I know that it took him a long time to get over her death. That was why as soon as he had his sixteenth birthday he went away. The family always said for some time after, he gave Margaret a hard time of it.”
“Yes,” said Stevie. “When we use to come to visit Grandpops, he told me about the blackouts during the war and how everyone had to stay in the underground shelter.”
“Yes, eighty years ago was a very different time to now,” said his mother. “But Grandpops eventually married Margaret so the old saying time is a healer is right. He did love her and he was a good dad to my dad.
Let us get some old films out. I’m sure Albert would like that.”
Stevie went into the living room. Albert was looking out of the window.
“Goodness, its six o’clock already.” Albert touched his watch. “I was supposed to meet Ethel at seven.”
That night Stevie went upstairs to bed. He was going to see his friend Darren tomorrow. He was tired and fell asleep without changing into his pajamas.
When he awoke, he found himself outside in their garden. At first, he felt disoriented and was unsure where he was. Then he realized he was in their back garden. It just looked different. There was no high wooden fence, only wire, and instead of the concrete patio, the ground was smothered with large white daisies.
Two teenagers appeared at the door. The young man seemed vaguely familiar though Stevie could not place him.
“Albert, it’s beautiful.” The girl held up a gold ring. It was decorated with blue sapphires and small white diamonds.
“It was my grandma’s,” said Albert. “When she gave it to me, she told me to give it to the girl of my dreams.”
“And am I Ethel that girl of your dreams?” Ethel grinned.
Albert picked her up and swung her round. Both laughing with the freshness of youth.
Stevie waved but they looked straight through him. The pair ran back into the house. Stevie followed them into the dining room. A large pot of tea stood on the table. A china plate piled high with chicken paste sandwiches. Stevie touched on the wall but his hand disappeared into the old-fashioned floral paper. The furniture looked like it came from a charity shop.
“Mum, we are here for tea.” Albert put some milk into a cup.
“I used up all our rations,” she grumbled. “So you’d better enjoy it.”
“Can I have something to eat?” Stevie’s hand reached for a sandwich. However, it stayed on the plate, his hand just cut thorough it, just grasping into thin air.
No one took any notice, as if he was not even there. Stevie studied Albert. Life had turned his mop of dark hair into the snow white it now was, and the once smooth skin was weathered with lines. From the boy in front of him, Stevie could trace the features of the elderly man that Albert had become.
Stevie put his hand up and down in front of Ethel’s face. They cannot see me, he thought. Is this a dream? Or are they ghosts?
On the table was a newspaper. The headlines were about fighting that was going on. The photograph showed an old aircraft. In small print in the corner was the date - 20th February. Nothing odd about that – it was the 20th February but the year was 1943.
“Maybe it is me that is a ghost – a ghost from the future.” Stevie pondered.
Suddenly everything faded and Stevie was sitting at the table with his mum and Grandpops, eating his breakfast.
“You don’t usually read the newspaper,” his mum motioned to the Sunday paper by him.
“Err, I wanted to see what’s on the TV tonight,” said Stevie hurriedly. He was puzzled. His hand shook when he picked up a slice of toast to dip into his boiled egg. The brown teapot and pile of sandwiches had gone.
“You kids and pop music,” groaned his mum good-naturedly. “I can’t think what Grandpops Albert thinks about today’s charts!”
“I like Frank Sinatra,” replied Albert. “I collect all his records.”
“This afternoon, I’m going to play football with Darren,” said Stevie.
Darren lived in the block of flats two streets away from him. There was a playground area and large expanse of grass where children could play. When he got back, he needed a bath.
“Hello Grandpops Albert!” Stevie poked his head into the living room. “I’m back.”
“I’ll just get the washing in before I start tea,” said his mother.
“But of course Ethel,” said Grandpops. “You like our daisies; I grow them for you so why don’t you pick some to decorate this room.”
“He’s not unhappy.” Stevie’s mother peeled the potatoes, whilst Stevie got out the cutlery. “He has lived a long and happy life. His mind is now just tired and frail.”
“He keeps thinking you are Ethel?” said Stevie. “Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.”
The three of them spent the evening playing cards and watching an old black and white film. Stevie had decided to forego his favourite programme. He could view it later. There would always be pop stars but there was only one Grandpops Albert.
That night Stevie went up to bed. When he woke, he found himself inside a café. The young Albert and Ethel were at the table surrounded by their friends.
Albert pointed to the menu. “Hopefully the fighting will have finished when we get married, and then we can have proper food at our wedding. Mum always says that the Silver Café was the best around before the war.”
“Whooo!” said one lad. “Are you getting married?”
“Not yet, Bobby,” replied Albert. “We have to wait until we’re sixteen next year. Remember I am a year younger than most of you.”
“But you’re wearing a ring already?” said Bobby.
“Gorgeous isn’t it.” Ethel stretched out her hand to show them her prize.
“Where did you get such a ring at your age?” Will remarked. “I couldn’t afford that, and I work in the shop.”
“It was my grandmother’s engagement ring,” said Albert. “She said I was to give it to the girl I truly loved.”
“Say cheese!” Will clicked his camera.
Caught in the flashlight, everyone started giggling. Then the laughter disappeared and there was a hissing sound. Stevie was back at his house with Ethel and Albert.
“But I don’t want us to move away when we are sixteen,” cried Ethel. “We are still young and I want to be near my Mum.”
“But I want to go up north where I can get a job in the ship yards,” said Albert.
“No wonder me mam says you can be stupid at times,” seethed Ethel. “If you had any sense you would stay here and carry on with your education and get a trade behind you. Mam says that would set us up for when we are married.”
“Why doesn’t your mam tell that to your brother?” retorted Albert. “He is a good for nothing layabout.”
“Why Albert?” Ethel blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I want you at all.” She took her ring off, hastily dropping it on the table. Then she ran out of the house. Albert followed her. The door banged behind him. The vibrations of the slam caused the engagement ring to fall off the end of the table. The ring disappeared through a small gap in the wooden floorboards.
Albert was hurrying after Ethel when the siren went. It was a warning for the air raid. Enemy planes must be on their way.
“Come back here,” puffed Albert but Ethel was already turning the corner into Withermore Street. Albert stopped, and then ran back home. His mother was pulling the blackout curtains down.
“Let’s go into the cellar,” she said as they heard the first bomb drop.
“It sounds very close.” Albert squeezed his mother’s hand.
It seemed like an eternity before the all clear bell sounded. Shaken, Albert and his mother emerged from the cellar. Within a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. It was Albert’s friend George.
“Albert, I came round as soon as I could,” gasped George. “I am sorry but Withermore Road has been hit. You need to get down there.”
The door banged shut. Albert raced down the road. Even though he was only wearing a thin shirt, he did not feel the cold. As soon as he turned the corner, he saw debris over the street. Some of the houses had suffered direct hits including Ethel’s. The home guard was trying to find people in the wreckage. Albert waited and waited but there was no sign of Ethel.
“I’m sorry Albert, love,” His mother had come to find him. “But I am afraid it looks like Ethel and her family are not coming back.”
“Nooooooo!” shouted Albert. “Nooooooooo!”
Albert stayed curled up in the chair for days. He barely ate a thing. A few weeks later, he remembered that Ethel had returned his grandmother’s ring. However, he could not find it anywhere in the living room.
“The ring has fallen between the floor boards,” Stevie tried to tell Albert. However, Albert could not hear him. Stevie tried to pick up a pencil and write him a note but his hand just sliced through the implement like it was air.
When Stevie turned around, he was back in the kitchen. His mother was putting a pan on the stove. Stevie went into the living room to wait for his hot chocolate. Albert had gone to bed early. He looked at the blue rugs on the floor. His mum had bought them, when they had gone away to the coast last year. Underneath the rugs, the wooden floorboards had been restored with paint and gloss.
With a rush of excitement, Stevie realized that the small gap in the floorboards was still there. He flashed his torch down there, and poked around with a fork. He could smell the dust. It touched something. Stevie could see it was a ring, though it was covered in grime. He managed to hook it onto the fork and lever it up.
“To think it’s been down there for nearly eighty years,” Stevie thought.
“What are you doing?” His mother came in with a tray.
“Err, I dropped fifty pence and I moved the carpet to look for it but accidentally knocked the coin down the gap. I spotted this ring down there. Do you think it is the ring that Grandpops talks about?
“We can find out how old the ring is by its hallmark.” She handed Stevie his drink. “At least that will give us some idea. We won’t show it to Albert in case it upsets him. I’ll take it into the jewellers and see if they can decipher its age.”
A few days later when Stevie got in from school his mother was sitting at the table and crying. “I am sorry but Grandpops has gone. I found him in his chair this morning. I wanted to wait for you to get back from school.”
“I would like you to have this.” His mum pushed Albert’s retirement pocket watch across the table towards him. “It’s what he would have wanted.”
Stevie opened the silver case. On one side was the watch’s mechanics, all in perfect working order. One the other was a photo of Albert and Margaret.
“When was that picture taken?” Stevie gently peeled the photograph out and turned over the back. “1956. Wait, there’s another picture underneath.”
Stevie recognized it instantly. It showed the young Albert and Ethel surrounded by their friends at The Silver café. Ethel’s hand was outstretched showing off her engagement ring.
“Well, I never,” said Stevie’s Mum. “That must be Ethel and look, there is that ring on her finger.”
About the author
Philippa has written four print books, and had short stories and poems in magazines and anthologies. She has written many assemblies for SPCK Publishing. Philippa enjoys creativity in all its form from the written word to charity promotions and performance.
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