Christobel

Christobel Part 8

Chapter 8

Frieda was having problems of conscience. On the subject of Dieter. 'I really do think I should see him more frequently now, Chris,' she said, a few days after the visit. 'He cannot have many more months of life left now. I should not expect Mutter and Vater to do it all, just because they are the closest in generations. We must all make his remaining days as peaceful and filled with love as we can, don't you think?

'Yes, absolutely,' Chris agreed, touched by her compassion.

'And he has taken quite a liking to you, I suspect. You bring a little light into his life.'

'I like him too. He's a really nice old chap. What my gran would call a proper, old-fashioned gentleman.'

'Yes. I don't quite know what you mean by that, but I am sure she is right.'

So they went again the following weekend. Dieter did seem pleased to see Chris, certainly, judging by the animation that briefly lit his tired face. He was bed bound again. Another carer, Henning, was on duty, but he seemed less instinctively inclined to offer refreshments and simply disappeared to his own room. Frieda went to the kitchen to produce them, leaving Chris and Dieter to gaze at each other and fumble for a conversation starter.

As he'd done the first time, Dieter broke the silence. 'So, whereabouts in England are you from, Chris?'

'Tiverton. In Devon. In the west of England. Do you know it? Er, Devon, I mean.'

Dieter managed a languid smile. 'Yes, I know where Devon is, although not Tiverton. Devon is a beautiful part of England though.'

'Yes, I suppose it is, really.'

'And does your family still live there?'

Chris looked uncomfortable. 'Er, well, I haven't really got a very big family. There's only my brother Mick – the rock star, you know – and me and my gran – grandmother. I don't really have any parents. Well, my dad's still alive but I don't see very much of him, to be honest.'

'Oh. You haven't a mother then? Excuse me if that is an impertinent question.'

'No, that's all right. My mum died a few years ago. And she and my dad were not really together. She was a single parent. My Gran looked after us after that. Well, I was grown up by then but Mick was still a kid, really. He still needed looking after, and she still does so now, looks after him; she's the housekeeper for his country seat. Er, sorry; mansion.

'Oh I see. I am sorry about your mother. Presumably she would not have been very old? That is tragic.'

Chris held his breath, waiting for the almost inevitable what-did-she-die-from? But it didn't come. Dieter was either uninterested or too polite to ask.

'Yes, it was.'

'Is your grandmother a professional chef then?'

'Well, not really. At least not a proper one. She used to work in pubs – er, taverns, you know? – but I think before that she might have had a restaurant. I seem to remember one, as a child.'

Dieter smiled again. 'Yes, I know what a pub is. And a tavern. I lived in England, remember.'

'Ah, right. Sorry.' There was an awkward pause; Chris hurriedly continued, 'Yes, I have some quite interesting ancestors, really. My great-great-grandmother spent some years living over here. Not here in Germany, in Belgium. She was a nurse too.'

'Oh, really? Yes, that is interesting. Nursing must be in your family's blood then. Or it's genes.'

'Yes, I suppose so. She was a fascinating lady. She kept a diary and my gran inherited it, and she gave it to me a few months ago, before I moved here. It's marvellous, reading it. Things were so different back then. Well, obviously. They were still using treatments like bleeding with leeches!'