STALKER

Chapter 13 -14th October, 1942 Belgium 5 pm - part 3

There's a good chance that readers will think I am waffling on, too much detail, crappy dialogue but honestly, I'm enjoying writing this section.  The way I'm going and if I finish this bottle of wine we could end up with part 15.  By the way, Tim Tams are the best biscuit ever created.

The translations may be wrong. I tried to make sure they were correct, hopefully, they are OK. Translations are down at the bottom of the chapter if you can't be bothered using google.

And as I said before loosely based on fact.

I stared at him, gobsmacked, fag hanging from my mouth and clutching my satchel. I could I be less cool?  Could it be this easy? I don't even have to look for him, he's sitting in front of me...alive, young, healthy. Fuck Fuck FUCK!!!! I had to hold back the tears. The grumpy puff of smoke was here in the flesh.

John Morrison smiled back but I saw confusion or was it curiosity in his eyes. The moments passed and stood like a fool, frozen to the spot. I think technically I was in shock, having forgotten how to work my body. I can't tell you how many different emotions and thoughts were running through me.  Feeling like I was looking in a mirror I scanned his face; his neck was a little thicker than mine, his hairline further back on his forehead but the mouth and jaw were mine and my brothers, for that matter; and certainly, the eyes were identical in colour.  It was freaking me out looking at him.  I wanted to stick a finger out and poke him in the face to make sure he was for real.

"Hallo, wil je met me mee voor een kopje koffie." John Morrison spoke to...me! I didn't understand a word but I was in awe of his deep voice. I continued to stand and stare. John blinked and tried again.

"Bonjour. Voulez-vous vous joindre à moi pour un café" Still no response from me. Stumped, John finally leaned across the table and pulled out the chair for me to sit. 

 At last, I got the message and I sat down with a thud. I had no clue what to do next. I put the satchel beneath the chair and did the only thing that came naturally. I pulled out my cigarette case, or should I say his cigarette case, and offered him a fag. John was still all smiles but I could now clearly see that he was more suspicious than friendly. He eyed the case as he pulled one out. I flicked my Bic and lit it for him, noticing that he was carefully watching everything I did. Eyeing off the lighter, then me. I lit one for myself, it gave me something to do with my shaking hands. I took such a long drag the tip turned bright red.

"Merci.C'est très généreux de votre part." He watched for my reaction. This was awkward.

The sound of chairs scraping on the pavement made me jump and I turned to see the old men stand to leave. They politely acknowledged me with a nod and huddled together as they walked away in the rain. It had started falling heavily while I was totally focused on Granddad. I looked around and saw the street and the town square had emptied, thanks to the sheets of rain that were moving from one end to the other. It had grown darker and more miserable in a matter of minutes. When I looked back at John, I realised that while we were alone, and the heavy rain was loud enough to drown out a whispered conversation, I could take a risk. This situation seemed safe enough to take the plunge and try to talk to him. My heart was racing. I was perched on the edge of the chair like a skittish cat. My anxiety at that point was off the chart. All this must have been written on my face because the smile finally left John's face as well.

I leaned in and John leaned back. His face stiffened. I took a deep breath, my mouth suddenly dry. I looked around one last time to make sure we were totally alone. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I can only speak English." I whispered. His jaw dropped.

I leaned in a little further and continued while he was still collecting his thoughts. "Hi. My name is Timothy. Can you help me?" I put out my hand but he ignored it. Granddad's mouth moved but nothing came out. He was looking at me as if I'd just dropped from the sky. if he only knew. I guessed he was trying to work out whether this was some kind of trap. He let out a long breath and leaned in as well, deciding for whatever reason to trust me.

"Who the hell are you?" John sounded angry. Jeez, I just travelled back 80 years to have a chat and he's still grumpy. John had carried on being surly into his afterlife. "Could you have made yourself more conspicuous? Why not wear a placard saying "I'm an American"."

Well, I was insulted. "I beg your pardon." Suddenly feeling patriotic. "I'm an Aussie, thank you very much." I might have said that a little too loudly and I ducked my head down and looked around. It was still pouring around us, the street was empty.  "And conspicuous...?"  I thought I was practically invisible.

"Don't bother yourself about who I am or where I'm from.  I'll be gone in a few minutes and no one will be any wiser." I waved my hand around as if I was sitting in a coffee shop in my local Mall rather than a cafe in the middle of a war. It still hadn't quite sunk in. My brain wasn't handling the change of reality well. The conversation wasn't going the way I thought either, actually, I hadn't planned a conversation because I didn't think I'd get this close to him.

I tried to lighten the mood. "I'd kill for a coffee." He moved back. Hmmm...OK that sort of jargon might not be appropriate in this time and place, and re-worded my request. "I mean, I would love a cup of coffee. Could you buy me one? I have no money but I can make it worth your while." I gave him my most mild-mannered smile but all I got in return was a suspicious glare.

I reached for my satchel.  He reached inside his jacket, I knew from my first jump what he kept there.  I made a bit of a show of slowly puling out one of the packs of biscuits as a peace offering of sorts. "Here..." I pushed them across the table towards him and he pushed them back as if they were a grenade with the pin pulled.

"Take these as payment for a coffee." I was insulted again and pushed them back. "I gather this sort of thing is worth something here."

"Are you trying to get us arrested? Do you know what the penalty is for having blackmarket goods? Put them away you fool." He yelled whispered.

"For fuck's sake.  They're Tim Tams, you pussy." I ripped the packet open and pulled one out. Before he knew it I leaned over the table grabbed his jaw and shoved the bloody thing in. "Chew you grumpy arsehole" and sat back in my chair pulling one out for myself before putting them away.  I didn't want to endanger him in any way but he was being a royal pain.

"Can you buy me a coffee now? Please." Our relationship was no different in 1942 than it was in 2022.

Note translation

 Hallo, wil je met me mee voor een kopje koffie -     Hello, Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee

"Bonjour. Voulez-vous vous joindre à moi pour un café"   - Hello, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee.

"Merci.C'est très généreux de votre part.  - thank you, that is very generous of you.