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University of Bedfordshire
A Portion Of Yourself
By
Sophie Giscard
ID : 1216283
English and Theatre Studies
Creative Writing Dissertation :
Short Story and Commentary
Supervisor : Dr. Michael Faherty
28.05.15
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my Bonne Maman, my French Grandma for a
lifetime of wonderful tales. Her life was full of adventures that she
shared time and time again with her children and grandchildren. There
was rarely a time we had already heard the story.
I had promised I would translate this short story for her to read when it
was done but she sadly passed away only a few months into the
process, unexpectedly. I wish to still make a French version for all my
French family to enjoy too, for one last time, a portion of her
wonderful stories. The power of story-telling can change a life and I
believe that she changed many. So, I would like to thank her once
again for being a remarkable woman. We will cherish your stories,
always.
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“When you are older you will understand how precious little things, seemingly of no value in themselves,
can be loved and prized above all price when they convey the love and thoughtfulness of a good heart.”
Edwin Booth
It is up to us to decide if we are happy, what makes us believe in good. Some people believe in luck, others
in coincidence, and others, like me, believe that everything happens for a reason. It is the people in our life
who help us define our own selves. I pay attention to detail, to what makes others happy and bring myself to
appreciate them, that is how to create happiness. If there is one thing that I have learned, it is how to make
the small things count the most. A simple story can change someone's life, their idea of life. If you are lucky
enough, someone close could be the one to inspire you.
To my Bonne Maman.
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CHAPTER 1
There was never a time when my younger sister and I did not enjoy our trips to see our grandma. We
knew thatwith every visit she would be just as surprised to see us as the time before. When we knocked
on herdoor, a deep, gritty voiceanswered, yes. Aswepeered through, this harsh wrinkled face suddenly
lit up. It puta smile on our faces. Sheput her newspaperdown besideherand pointed towards the extra
chair by her antique bureau. Her room somehow still felt like her own living room. The smells were the
same, she sat in her chair, and the bureau of course was still filled with family photographs. Naturally
she leant over to open a drawer and pulled out her famous dark chocolate, or little French cakes called
madeleines. It was like nothing had changed. As always she asked us about school or if we had been
reading much. We knew what would come next.There was never a day when she hadn't read an article
in her newspaper, seen a headline on the news, or finished her latest book. There was, without
exception, a new topic to discuss. I admired her passion for debate. I suppose I inherited that. That and
story-telling were very much her forte. We just waited for the next story to be told. There was never a
visit without one.
“Oh what a lovely surprise, please, please make yourselves comfortable! How are you both? It
is so lovely to see you. Please have a cake, I'm sure I have some more chocolate around too if
you want it. It is so lovely to see you. So, how long are you here for? Just a few days, I see.
Well, I'm sure it must be nice to have a bit of time off. Will you get to see your Father while
you are here? Your brother and sister really are growing up fast aren't they? They visited not
long ago and the little one really does not stop smiling does she? And your brother isn't he a
chatterbox? You all were when you were that age. Very well. So do you have many plans
while you are here? It is very nice of you to come and see me. And those flowers are beautiful,
thank you. What's that you say? Let me see. Yes this is a picture of my Grandfather's house.
Up in Cherbourg. I was very young when we went to stay there, probably about two or three
years old. I don't really remember much. It was grey and miserable and rained a lot. Haha.
That must have been in 1934, yes around about the time my Father decided to start his own
business before the war. Oh that makes me think, I thought of you girls the other day. I was
reading something about what Churchill did during the war and it reminded me of when I was
a young girl.
I have probably told you this before. I'm sure I have told you but, yes, I was a young girl in
1944. I was only twelve but something I will never forget is the sound of those planes
speeding over the roof. That is probably the time I remember most in fact. It made me think of
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that because I did not know quite how much Churchill had done. I don't really remember him
at the time, but it was very interesting to read about him now. It is the sort of thing that you
only really learn about when you are a bit older. In fact, did you know that the house we lived
in is still there? Yes, it is still there. There were army barracks opposite but they were
destroyed, in the seventies I think. I can't remember. Our house is still there though. I can still
tell you exactly where it is. If you go from the train station, work your way down the street
and you will get to a set of traffic lights. It is a couple of houses before that. Number 74. It
could be quite amusing if you went to look for it one day. It was a lovely house. I wasn't born
there though. We only moved there when my Father opened his business.
Yes, that's it. My father owned a business with his brother. They worked together in a little
laundry business. It was only very small and there came a time when there simply wasn't
enough work for the both of them. He actually then went on to work with his Father, making
candles. You know at communions, everyone had their own candle. That is the sort of thing
they would make. And then, in 1934 my Father found a small place in Angers, where we all
moved eventually. There you go, it must have been that same year that my Father worked
with his, hence us living with my Grandfather for a while. Angers is where he began his own
laundry business. It shut down in the seventies. That is in fact when he passed away. 1976 that
was. He had been out fishing, and when he returned he was suddenly very ill. He passed away
within a few days of returning home. It was very sad indeed. We never really knew what had
made him so unwell. He was a very honourable man, you know. He was very protective and
extremely brave too. Yes, he was at home during the Second World War. I remember the
bombings in Angers. That is right, Angers was bombed. We weren't very far from the train
station you see. And that is what they were targeting. But of course, anything nearby was in
danger of being bombed too.
It was the middle of the night and I just remember my heart racing as I heard my Father's
voice over the sirens. It only felt like minutes since we had fallen asleep when the bedroom
door was flung open and my Mother fell through it, rushing to my bedside. Our parents
hurried us downstairs. Our poor little dog was running close behind. People forget about the
animals, but they were probably just as scared as we were. They always forget that these poor
little beasts are just as sensitive as humans. Did they ever think of them when they were
bombing those fields? What about the poor cows in all those fields? Then again, they didn't
hold back the bombs when it came to humans, why would they even consider it for animals.
Well anyway. I am curious.
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As I was saying, we reached the bomb shelter and my Father quickly led us underground. You
have to remember there were 6 of us children and then we couldn't forget the poor pup. He
was scared out of his skin he was, shaking. Yes, so you see, my Father had been a soldier in
the First World War Months before the night of that bombing he had spent time building this
shelter. He had taught us a lot about how deep to dig it, how wide, everything you need to
know about building a good trench. I had hoped we would never really need it. I had no idea
what it took to build such a thing. We were very lucky to have him.
Once we were all in, we huddled close together. It was absolutely terrifying. I was only twelve,
but I don't think it mattered what age I was, the sound of those planes was enough to terrify
anyone. And it did. That created such a fear for me, for years to come in fact. Yes, I was very
afraid for a long time to come.
Here, please, please, have another. It's my pleasure. Wait a minute, I might even..
Ah yes, here we go. Have some of this chocolate I was given. It makes a change. Sorry where
was I. Ah yes, we had managed to get to the shelter in time, thank God. We sat closely,
holding each other's hands. I just remember feeling absolutely petrified. As I said, we were
very close to the train station, that being the main bombing point. So we were in an extreme
amount of danger, you see. We could hear the planes a lot more by this point. Father was very
tense, but yet remained so calm somehow. We always felt very safe with him. He was a young
soldier in World War I, he had already experienced this type of crisis. He was a very kind man,
very caring. It is a man's duty to protect his family, and he very much lived up to those
expectations. The planes were still flying over us at this point, at terrible speed it seemed. As I
said earlier, it took me a long time not to be afraid of them anymore. In fact I was absolutely
terrified! But Father had convinced us that there was very little chance of anything happening
to us so long as we stayed down there. There really wasn't much room, forcing us to sit very
close to one another. We were grateful however to have had a place to go for shelter. I will
never forget the frightening sound of bombs exploding, it was deafening. All I could think
about was what we would do if our house got bombed too. But you had to quickly think about
other things, to take your mind off the terrible, terrible things happening outside. Yes, we
were very lucky to have had the shelter. I dreaded to imagine those who didn't or maybe didn't
have the chance to get to theirs before the bombs landed. I couldn't tell you how long we were
down there. It felt like an extremely long time of worrying and being very afraid, that's for
sure. Terrible, absolutely terrible.
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Once it was all over, Father looked up at each and every one of us, with nothing other than a
smile. My Father was this tall bearded man. Very comforting features. When he thought it
safe, he led us out of the shelter one at a time, still cautious, naturally. He had taught us that
bombs explode straight, in a straight line. This is why the shelter needed to be a certain depth
as a bomb, had it landed near us, would have detonated straight over our heads. Well over the
shelter, but you see what I mean, in a straight line. There shouldn't have been any risk of it
going down. Well of course, knowing this, I was still afraid that there might still be a bomb
that hadn't detonated, a delay action bomb. I was petrified. We all were. How could we not be
when we were watching houses burn, we could hear people screaming, it was horrendous. He
assured us that we could all go back to bed, but I can tell you I was not looking forward to
crossing the garden. But, we did. We all walked together, back towards our house to go back
to bed. And that was it. We just got silently back into bed and went back to sleep. Well, it
took me a while, as the sounds of those planes still echoed in my head. Life just went on
somehow. That was just the way things went at the time. This was in May of 44, yes. It must
have been soon after the bombings that we were evacuated. Oh, that does make me think of
those poor people who were locked up in concentration camps. Did you know that those
places were designed to kill people in just a few months? And yes, yes, you are very right
about the conditions. More people died because of terrible conditions indeed. It makes my
stomach turn. Just the thought of it makes me feel very uneasy. We obviously weren't aware
of them as children, but as I grew up I heard stories about them. Of course, you know I read a
lot too, and I have read many things about the disgraceful places. It hurts to read them. Even
thinking about it, it's too difficult. That makes me think, we had cousins, and one of them was
a lawyer. He worked between Angers and Le Mans, and he was part of the resistance. Yes, he
was. And it was then that a few German officers occupied a few rooms in the house. They
needed somewhere to stay and that is what happened. It was not uncommon at all, many
houses were occupied by the Germans. They requisitioned certain rooms. My cousins still
lived there, it was just shared with the officers. So yes, then after a period of time, my cousins
were arrested apparently and never seen nor heard of again. Yes, I do find that very curious.
But it is horrendous to imagine where people arrested were taken. They were sent straight
away to be gassed and burned. When we think of that it is astounding. They were my mother's
cousins, yes. Of course, we think that they were sent to camps, but no one really knows. What
is disgraceful is the Jews being arrested for who they were. It was nothing to do with what
they were doing. There was no care at all. Having said that, something that I found whilst
reading an article once, is that every prisoner would have a number assigned to them. What is
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odd is that on the papers, next to that number would be the name of that person. I find that
very obscure, don't you? Many people were found and it was obvious they had been in
concentration camps. Why did the Germans keep track of who went in? They could have just
as well have left every man and woman without recognition. They didn't seem to worry about
who was going in, so why the sudden interest in naming their prisoners? I do find that very
questionable and a little contradictory. We will never know now I suppose. But it is very odd,
quite interesting. You know I was appalled to know that the French played a part in the
arresting of Jews too. It was in Paris mainly. The French police had authorization to arrest
anyone they saw fit and it wasn't forced upon them. No. They kept it a secret for a very long
time until the president in 1995 - that was the year you were born - in 1995 he apologised for
the role that the French played. I find that disgraceful, and disloyal. How could they have
sided with the Germans? Oh and it was kept quiet. Very quiet.
Do I remember D-Day? Yes, well we had an aunt I believe she was, who lived up in
Normandy. And yes, I do remember it happening. I remember hearing about it. Thank God the
aunt was all right. People said that there were only about three houses standing. My Mother
had quite a bit of her family in Normandy. But there was one cousin, he was blinded after a
bomb had landed nearby, shattering a glass bay and cutting his eyes. Terrible I know. But this
young man, he refused to let it affect him and change his lifestyle. He promised himself he
would keep being the person he was before the incident and he did just that. This one time we
went camping all together, he was our age, and I watched as his friend helped him eat as he
couldn't see his plate. He told him 'A little bit to the left, no, more to the right. Yes, that's it. At
two o'clock'. That was how he knew where he still had food on his plate. He still went all
through school and graduated alongside his sister. He had an extremely supportive family. It
wasn't easy for his sister, I have to say, having to help him graduate. She would teach him
how to do everything again, just without the use of his eyes. Very admirable, both of them. He
then married, happily might I add, and had two children. He even became a chiropractor. I
find that absolutely remarkable and inspiring. He did with his life exactly what he had
intended to do. It just shows us that the war didn't ruin all lives. He proved them wrong in a
way.
Oh yes, I had started telling you about when we were evacuated. Well, we were actually taken
outside of the town in a laundry cart. Can you believe that? Every day or so they had a horse
and carriage transport laundry in and out of the town, and that is how we were evacuated. We
were taken just to the outskirts. It was early one morning when I was woken up by our parents
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in the corridor. They were mumbling, I couldn't quite tell what was being said, but my poor
Mother sounded as if she were sobbing. It was hard to tell through the door. As the door
opened, I quickly went back to sleep, or pretended to anyway.
'Are you awake?', my Father whispered.
When I saw their worried faces I quickly stopped pretending. It was quite obvious that they
had some bad news. I wasn't very old, but the war certainly makes you cautious about things. I
sat up in my bed as my parents knelt by my side. They looked at each other before asking me
how I had slept. Of course, as you can imagine it had been a little bit of a rough few weeks,
we had been bombed, and things were getting awfully dangerous. That is when he told me
that we were, that is my siblings and I, going to be evacuated. We couldn't really fight it, our
Father was very strong-willed. But we also knew that he always did everything possible to
protect us, so we knew that he was right. So that is when we were taken away, to the outskirts.
I find it quite amusing that we were transported in such a way. Don't you? Yes, it is quite
different. It was also one of the safest ways too, but that is something I won't forget. Quite
amusing indeed.
It was beautiful down there, where we had been taken to stay. We often played down by the
river. It was all in the countryside. It being May or June time, the fields had only just been cut.
So you know, when they have been cropped, the stubble becomes extremely painful to walk
over. I'm sure you have noticed before. The fields near my house were like that weren't they?
Well, this one afternoon, we were playing down by the river and that indescribable sound of
planes returned. We ran, and we ran, as fast as our little legs would carry us. And of course,
those previously unbearable fields weren't an issue. Our little legs ran as fast as we could, our
bare feet shredded to pieces but nothing was going to slow us down with that amount of fear
and adrenaline pumping through our veins. We eventually made it to shelter, right by a
windmill I believe it was. Like I said, nothing was going to stop us from getting to safety with
those planes on the way. To this day I remember the fear it instilled in me. Oh, we knew that
as long as they couldn't see us we were fine, they were going elsewhere anyway, but
nonetheless, it was terrifying for us children. In fact, I know that I was young but, yes, I
believe that happened around about the same time that she had been arrested. What's her name,
Veil. Simone Veil. She had been arrested, yes. In fact it might have been a few months before
my evacuation with my siblings. I wasn't very old, but I do remember this. I still have a lot of
admiration for her. Do you know who she is? She was better known for promulgating abortion,
making sure it was done medically and with an interview beforehand. It was to avoid young
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women, or any women for that matter going abroad and getting it done. You have probably
heard about terrible stories. Well, she believed that was her duty. She did not want women to
feel as if they didn't have options. But that was later on in her life. So yes, she was arrested in
the war, she was Jewish, but she wasn't arrested for being Jewish. No, she was stopped for
being part of the Resistance believe it or not. But, she came back and fought. She fought at the
National Assembly for the legalisation of abortion. Men called her an abortionist, a killer
when all she was trying to do was defend what she thought was right. About that, what do you
think could be done to reduce the amount of unwanted pregnancies and abortions? Young
girls should be made more aware of, of, means of contraception. I do think that young people
settle down quite quickly nowadays. It's your choice of course, - but there are risks - because
abortion is appalling when you think about it. I know that there is no other way to have
children, and it is frightening and difficult sometimes. There are 200 000 abortions a year in
France. That is a lot, yes. There are people who have nothing better to do and use it as if it
were a contraceptive. I suppose I might be a bit old school, but there are so many other ways
of avoiding unwanted pregnancies surely. Or maybe not, I just think that it is a disgrace to just
use abortion as a contraceptive. Well, maybe I am being a touch dramatic, but it is true. But
then, what do I know. Although, I do know that it takes two to tango.”
And there it was, that famouslook. Anyone whodidn't know her could take it asher being smug, but we
knew. She knew that she might be a little bit out of touch, but as she said, what did she know. These
people, my Grandma included had survived things that our generation wouldn't dream of. And that
story about the young boy who was blinded just brought admiration and inspiration to me. She was
right, he had proved them wrong. We'd been sitting there for forty minutes already by this point. We
watched as she relived thesememories and shared every second of them with us. Her passion for story-
tellingwasinspiring.Shewasinspiring.And of course,shedid know.
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My Grandmother's childhood house today
My Great-Grandfather’s farmhouse
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CHAPTER 2
“Another cake? Please, please. Are you sure? I will leave them here, do help yourselves. So,
erm, yes, what else did I want to tell you? Oh yes, I nearly forgot, we were bombed a second
time. This time it was on a Sunday, we were at church I remember now. That dreadful sound
of planes came from the distance, we were half way through the service, and before we knew
it they were above our heads. The whole place shook, it almost felt like an earthquake. That is
the only way to describe it. So we all leapt to the floor, hiding under the benches. There was
nowhere else to go this time. It was terrible. That aching feeling of not knowing what was
going to happen had come back. We were very lucky, they only flew over us to go a little
further away, but still not very far. Bombs hitting the ground, people frozen with fear. It was
close enough for us to feel in danger. It was such an awful feeling. You know your
Grandfather was further away at the time, on the other side of the river. He wasn't affected by
the bombings like we were. His family had a house on the outskirts. It was only because my
family lived so close to the train station that we were at risk, hence our parents making the
decision to evacuate us. We were lucky that our houses weren't occupied by Germans like
other places such as my cousin's house I mentioned earlier. I don't know about you but I think
it must be quite intimidating knowing that you are helping the enemy in some way. Well, I
know my Father wouldn't have been very happy. He probably would have refused. He wasn't
a very big fan of the Germans. In fact after Algeria's independence, all the soldiers were
relocated to Germany because the French, they didn't really like Algeria, the Algerians and
people born there. I mean we weren't from there but still. Your Granddad was an officer
during the war in Algeria as you know. So even when you Grandfather and I lived over in
Germany for a few years, all my Father said was that he was going to plot revenge. Can you
imagine? Haha. He was very proud of his country and did not like the Germans much, or at all
for that matter. For years and years after he would say silly things like that. We knew he didn't
mean it really but I am sure that somewhere deep down, he did. My Father was a very
protective man as I mentioned before. He would always tell us to watch out for ourselves and,
oh that reminds me of the time we had driven to La Roche sur Yon. We had been near,
actually near where you live in Champ St Père. We must have been picking up a car. There
were already refugees at the time too. Anyway, Mother had a cousin near there and Father had
bought the car off the man who was a prisoner then I think. They couldn't get the thing to start
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but eventually they managed to fire it up. This was earlier, right at the start of the war, when
the Germans had only just begun coming into France. 1939 that was. Anyway, all this to say,
what was I going to say? Ah yes, my Father had managed to do just that and we had driven up
to La Roche. Once we got there, I just remember him looking at us, my siblings and I and he
said 'Whatever you do, don't accept any sweets that the Germans give you. Nothing, don't take
anything if it is being offered by a German soldier'. We would smile, we knew he was only
trying to protect us, but this hate for the Germans became a bit of fun for us. But again, we
were extremely lucky to have someone as protective as he was but I will never forget the way
he felt about those Germans. Oh dear, yes, we did have a bit of a laugh about it. Can you just
imagine him in Germany plotting his revenge? Oh dear. I did love his bad sense of humour.
Of course, we knew he was probably right to tell us that. He had every reason to believe that
no good would have come from it. You know, men from the first war had really suffered. It is
difficult to imagine how they survived it. Father didn't show it but we knew that he had
endured a lot. In the trenches it was terrible. Obviously he never spoke about it. The fact that
we were constantly surrounded by soldiers, walking past the house probably brought back
some bad memories. We always had to be very cautious. After the Allied landings especially,
we would see, from one day to the next, German soldiers, then American soldiers, then maybe
Germans again. We never really knew who was going to be marching by next. I could see
them from the garden through the fence railings. I would just sit and watch. As I peered
through the gate I always asked myself what could possibly happen now, and more
importantly, when. The not knowing part was the worst. At just twelve years old I felt as if my
brothers and sisters and I already knew too much about the world. We were trapped. Yes,
trapped, at times that is how it felt. There was nothing we could do apart from hope for the
best. At least we were lucky, we still had the whole family at home. Those poor mothers who
had to watch all their sons go to the front-line. Talk about not knowing what is going to
happen. We had heard it all, sons being killed out there, husbands disappearing without any
news. Well, I wasn't supposed to have heard it, but we always eaves dropped. And I liked to
read the newspapers. How did those mothers cope? I'm not sure I could have dealt with that.
No, you are right, even the thought of it makes it seem unbearable. What they must have gone
through, well, I suppose I will never really know. We had neighbours who hadn't heard from
their sons in a while, their brothers. Yes, we were lucky and we had to be grateful. They knew
they had to let them go, but that didn't make it any easier. It was usually on a Sunday at
church that we younger ones noticed the absence the most. And as I told you earlier, even that
moment got taken away from us that one time. Church was supposed to be the time of peace,
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and somehow that had been interrupted by war and hatred with those damn planes. You know
we had our cousins up in Normandy, in St Laud, well at the time of the landings there was the
big farm house that they all lived in with a tower. Well, the farmer had said how about they all
took cover in there as that would mean more chance of the bombs going around the wall as
opposed to them hitting a straight wall. So, inside, they sat with their feet nearly touching.
One day it would have been the Americans giving them some food, the next day it may have
been Germans. Every now and again they got out, or one person got out to milk the cow.
There was even a young couple with a baby. No, we would have loved a written version of all
the stories, but my aunt never did.
Do you girls still go to church every now and again? Not as much anymore, I see. There is no
harm in that. We brought you up to decide what it was you wanted to do. This sort of thing
happens when you grow up, of course I understand. I am sure that you do what is best for
yourselves. That makes me think, I saw this article in the newspaper the other day and I
thought of you. If you reach behind you there, yes, just on that shelf there, you will find a
book. Yes, that's the one. I just thought of how much you love sewing, and wanted to get you
that book. It is very interesting the way that the pictures tell the story. And look, have a look
at the style of drawing. Isn't it wonderful? Yes, I thought of you and bought it straight away. I
hope that you will enjoy reading it, I know you don't always have time to read books other
than your school ones, but I enjoyed how different this one seemed.
I would always have a book by my bed. Yes, even from a young age. I remember sitting on
the front porch reading. I'm not entirely sure why I sat out there, but I did enjoy watching
people walk past. At a time like that there was not much to hope for, I suppose we simply had
to enjoy the little moments. I remember one of my younger sisters coming home from school
one day and she said that she was sad. She was worried that she was going to fail her year. I
placed my book on the lower step asking her to come and sit by me. Looking her right in the
eyes I reminded her 'Odile, you will be just fine. You are a smart and bright girl. You have
nothing to worry about, just keep believing that you will manage.'
Her little eyes looked straight up at me as she smiled. I watched her run into the house calling
for our parents. War time seemed to make everything so urgent. No matter what, I would
never have wanted anyone to feel as if they were failing. Even without knowing what was
going to happen later that day, let alone tomorrow, everyone deserved to see that they could
still achieve something good. Sorry? Oh yes, you are right, even with my own children and
grandchildren I was the same. I hope that I have always encouraged you all to do your best, as
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I am sure you will do the same with your own children. You have to work hard for what you
want, and I know that you do. It is lovely to hear about all the things you do. I am sure you
will have very successful careers, both of you. What we have to remember is that your
generation will never have to worry about another war in Europe. We will never fight against
the Spanish, the Germans, the British and God knows we have battled against the British! I
just wish the same could be said for the rest of the world. What is pitiful is those men
kidnapping all those young ladies claiming that they shouldn't have an education. Absolutely
disgraceful. God forbid anything like that should happen in Europe again.
Oh dear, where did that rain come from? It was such a lovely morning. You know, I really do
like this room, when I sit in my chair I have a very nice view onto the garden. I know there
isn't much of the garden itself, but this tree here, do you see it from where you are? It
blossoms so beautifully. Sometimes when I can't find the energy to go outside, I can just open
the window and it has just about the same effect. I have asked my physiotherapist to start
working on my legs again. I don't like not being able to get around as well as before. What's
that, sorry? Oh yes, I agree. I really do think it will help me to feel better too. I haven't been
feeling great lately, so I thought I should certainly try and get myself up and about again. It's
so lovely to know that you two are lovely and fit. And so you should be. All of you, your
cousins too, you are all so young. You have worked very hard to keep yourselves healthy, I
can tell. Back in the day so did I, but the years catch up with you eventually. I used to smoke
quite a bit do you remember? It has been a long time. I had to stop, after I had my stroke. I
thought it was time. But you needn't worry about that just yet. Oh, did you catch the smell in
the hallway? Aha, yes that is the lady in the room across the hall, just opposite mine. We
aren't allowed to smoke in our rooms, but she always sneaks one in. It is hilarious. She is older
than me and she just acts as if she can do what she wants because she assumes she is going to
die soon. It does make me laugh. She pretends that she doesn't when people ask. The smell is
sort of a giveaway. How are your grandparents by the way? I hope that they are well. It has
been years since I last saw them, - very respectable people indeed. They are younger than me
aren't they? Ah yes, that's it. About 10 years, yes. Well, do tell them that I send my regards. I
am glad you girls are doing so well at school. Do you have any exams coming up? I see, well
I hope all goes well. I know you will be fine. You always have been. You study hard. I hope
that you find some time to read a bit though. I have lots of books you can borrow if you feel
like it. I think of you both sometimes when I read books about Britain. There were some
fascinating people during the War weren't they. Churchill was a remarkable man indeed. I
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think I read something about the Queen too. Well anyway I am sure you know all about it. I
should probably think about getting ready for supper. But thank you so much for coming to
see me. I hope that all your exams go well for you both. I really do hope that you manage to
fit some reading in too. I do think that you would like a few of the books I have. Oh I forgot to
show you. I have been knitting this for Hannah. Look, isn't it sweet? I haven't quite finished
yet but I think that she will look very sweet in it. She is a beautiful little girl isn't she? Your
father gave me a picture of both her and your brother. I would love a picture of all four of you.
I do try to have pictures of all my grandchildren as you know. Yes I still have them over there,
look. I am proud of them, all of you. I like to show off to the other residents, what can I say. I
am a very lucky grandmother. If you could, yes, that would be great if you could send me
those pictures, thank you. Oh and say hi to your Mum for me would you. Well, very well. I
will see you very soon then girls. Bye girls. Bye, thank you for coming.”
She couldn't always stand to say goodbye anymore, but we knew she would always try. We moved
towards her, insisting she stay sitting. Once we had kissed her on both cheeks, we told her vaguely
when we would be visiting again. As wewalked away, onceagain we left feeling filled with new things.
Her harsh wrinkly face had lit up, as a proud grandmother's face should. It was true, she had always
been proud. We had stayed longer than usual. She had seemed more lively than usual too. The stories
just never stopped coming. It was nice to see her enjoying it so much. It was about one thing, then
another, then another but it was important to her that we know about her life. We had all grown up
around it. That is probably why we enjoyed it so much too. Next time she would tell us yet another
chunk.Little did weknow.
Wewalked backtothecarpark,passingthroughthecorridorsaswebreathed inthesmell of cigarette.
And then,Ismiled.
Word count: 6517
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Commentary
It is always difficult to come up with an idea for a story. I find it difficult anyway. We
are always tempted to think of our plot first. In short stories we were taught to know
our character before anything else and the rest will come. I had decided that I wanted
to write about something inspiring, something that would make the readers feel
inspired themselves. I began by thinking about stories I had been told over the years.
Both sides of my family always have exciting tales. My Mum reminded me of a story
about my Dad's mother. She told me that we still had a picture of a farmhouse that
used to belong to my great grandfather, in the north of France. She told me that most
of that house was occupied whilst they lived in it by German soldiers in World War II.
This gave me the brilliant idea of working on true events towards a creative non-
fiction piece.
After recording a conversation with my Grandmother about her time during World
War II, I felt very inspired to begin writing more of the story. I found out that the
picture was of her Grandfather's house indeed but that it was her cousin's house that
had been occupied by the Germans. Prior to our conversation, I had begun writing
bits here and there, not knowing about events much. It was more of a case of
deciding which person I wanted to write in too. I wrote two shorts potential beginnings
first in third person narrative then attempting to write that same bit all in the first
person. As I transferred the third person to first some arrangements had to be made
to make it seem more natural. I decided, for the time being, that I was going to use a
diary form to include first person narrative and then transfer back into third person.
What I did not realise straight away was that I did not have any form of dialogue once
I began speaking in the third person. I wrote 600 words on paper in one go, writing
what came to me, and only after did I realise none of it had any dialogue. I am not
sure if this was because of the scene I was writing or if the style of writing did not
need it. I thought I should attempt more dialogue to explore more styles.
After a little while I found myself bouncing backwards and forwards between first and
third person. I mentioned this at a presentation we had to do. We were to present,
just in a few words, our project and a few points that were going well and others not
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so much. I brought up the issue or not knowing which way to go with the narration. I
got some extremely helpful feedback, most saying just to keep writing and see which
one became more dominant.
I unfortunately received the news the day following this presentation that my
Grandmother in question had passed away. All I could think about was how this was
going to affect my writing. I was distraught by the news, pushing me to contact my
tutor straight away. I said that I did not know if this would bring more ideas or have a
completely negative effect on my writing. Naturally I was told to put my work aside
and focus on getting myself back on track.
Having spent some time with my family after the funeral, it occurred to me that maybe
this sudden change from third to first person was the natural way to write this story. In
fact, I began to think that instead of creating a new story out of all the little stories my
Grandmother had told us about her time in the war, why not tell the story of her telling
us.
This new challenge has created many obstacles as a writer. I found myself needing
to be true to her technique which has proved difficult in some ways. I have to
translate the story, as it were, all by keeping her little mannerisms or expressions.
I decided to simply write. If I could write as much as possible it would make the
stylising easier. I figured that it would be the easier way for me. I could then decide if
I felt like moving the passages around a little bit and play with the form and style of
the story.
Battling with the idea of using only her voice, I was trying to come up with a way to
translate all those small expressions of her own. Over Easter it was planned for me to
go to France. While I was there we went to Angers, her home town. As we walked
through the town I could picture it. It made it easier to imagine what it used to look
like. While we were there we attempted to find her old house. Unfortunately, we only
had a vague location rather than the exact number so we took pictures of three of
four houses that could have been hers. A few weeks later I got confirmation from the
archives of the city that we had in fact managed to guess which house it was. Using
all of this, I attempted to put more and more detail in the story. After doing this, by
accident I had finished one of my chapters with a few lines of narrative, giving that
extra little bit of detail. It made me think that maybe the way to include even the
slightest bit of narrative could be by featuring it right at the end of the chapters, as a
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sort of conclusion. It seemed a good way to lead into the next part.
I listened back to the recording of the conversation with my Grandmother. It was a
very strange experience. It certainly helped me to keep the feel of her telling the story.
I used her exact words in places, and then when I went to develop the story further, I
tried to keep in mind the type of thing she would say. It is important to me that the not
only the story stays true to itself, but that the intention of her words are exactly as
they were.
It gets difficult at times. I am nearly there, and yet I keep stopping. The memories are
flooding back, and sometimes that is a very good thing. Then, other times, it makes
me a little sad, so I move on and try and work on something else. At times, I need to
leave it, and simply stop thinking about it all together. I know exactly what I want to
achieve with this story, I just have to remain positive and confident that I can do it. I
think what is important is to keep it is real as possible, as I mentioned before. I have
tried to keep this constantly in mind. It is all taking a lot longer than planned by this
point. The deadline is approaching fast and I do not want to feel rushed. I decided
that I needed a little more research. Having emailed archives in the town that she
used to live in, I was given some information on her Father. That for me was
essential as her father plays a big part in the story. In fact, she seemed to mention
him a lot more than her mother. I am curious about that. The information about her
Dad gave me the opportunity to develop some events I had already written about.
Although I made up some of the links in the story, the main elements are all true. I
suppose I followed Gutkind's advice in his book about non-fiction, You can't make
this stuff up. He says it is necessary to create some parts to make a story but remain
true to the original story. That is what creative non-fiction is about. This made me feel
more comfortable making certain links up or using events from another time and
putting them in conjunction with the ones I already had. There is nothing wrong with
adapting.
I listened and listened to the recording, making sure I captured it all. When the last
few words were missing I decided to simply write the exact conversation that we had.
It was very emotional. There is something about the process that became all the
more important since she passed away. I wanted that to be translated through the
words in my story. I would say through my words, but that is the point, they are her
words.
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I had pieces of story, so I began putting them together. Soon I started to see a
pattern for chapters. Unsure about how many I wanted, I thought it wise to keep
writing and piecing together until the end of a chapter felt natural. I tried not to force
anything as I knew that I would feel uncomfortable with the outcome. I only ended up
with two chapters but that didn't seem an issue. I couldn't find a place to include a
third one, or split what I already had into chapter number three.
As I was attempting to complete the story, I thought even more research would do
the trick. If I was able to put more detail in, that would be key to making it authentic. I
looked up a few more events that had been mentioned, for example the Vel' D'hiv
Roundup. This was when the French were involved with the Germans, rounding up
the Jews. It was very hushed up and my Mum reminded me how my Grandma felt
about it. She had very strong opinions about the whole process and was appalled
when she first heard about it in 1995. Learning more about the event itself gave me
confidence about writing down the feelings she had regarding the sensitive subject.
The structure of the story is a challenge. I felt the need to make it more interesting.
When reading my work back a few months ago, it always seemed a little plain. I tried
to come up with a way to solve that. Using the first person, I attempted to make it as
if the questions were implied but never really asked. This was the biggest challenge. I
took out, but did not delete, the parts where I would comment. For example, there
was a point when I wanted to add that I saw myself in her for being sensitive about
the animals. Originally, it clearly said that. Then, as used my narrative at the end of
the chapter, I thought I could make the most of it to include a few more of my feelings
at that point. It all seemed rather complicated at the time, a little disorganised but I
raised my expectations and the stakes by doing so. Things began to clear up as I
structured the last paragraph of narrative. It seemed possible to then remove
permanently any narrative whilst my grandmother would be speaking. The use of
small words such as “yes”- that I avoided using too many times – was key to that
implication. As I was listening back to the recording I noted all those things that she
would say to link, agree or disagree and planted them in there. When I read back my
first draft using that method, I felt a lot better about the style and structure making the
story more creative and interesting. The use of different fonts had been suggested to
me by my tutor. He said that I could play around with that, the cover and why not add
some pictures in the body of the story itself. I decided to have a little bit of fun with
that. I didn't want to add too many pictures, but I thought it appropriate to use the
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ones about the houses I mention throughout the story. I took one of my
Grandmother's house as it is today, and the original picture of my Great-
Grandfather's farm, the one that originated the story.
I wanted to be creative with the title, however I have never been very good a
choosing them and that is the one thing that was not decided until the very end. I had
a few suggestions but I was told that they weren't what I were looking for, or they
were too simple. It would not be until a few hours before printing off the work that I
made a decision.
The excitement had begun to grow as I watched the words hit the page. I had a goal
and I was aiming high. However I preferred to have fewer words but a more precise
story. After all, I hit the word count, as that is a requirement for the project. However,
it didn't feel like work at times. Writing this story has been an honour, a challenge and
a journey of discovery. Even in the time I have had to work with the soul use of a
recording and previous stories, I felt as if I were learning more about my Grandma
still. I am now able to say that a portion of her stories will remain with me and my
family forever on paper. When I did my last word count, the tears just poured out. It
has been an emotional roller-coaster but I have enjoyed every second.
Word count: 2232
