Spoils of war

July 1945

Colette sauntered through the living room with a bottle of champagne and crystal coupe clutched in one hand, her silk kimono pinched in the other. She had a vibration to her, a simple unequivocal self-assuredness she carried, which could usually only be accomplished by a wealthy widow on her fifth husband. 

She walked barefoot into the library, her kimono wafted with each stride towards the grand piano. The crystal clinked on the shiny black surface as she poured the champagne to the brim, then bent over to drink the overflow of bubbles before it spilt.

She closed one eye, lifted the glass, peered through the sparkling fizz, and pretended it to be a magnifying glass. She surveyed the room, past the seemingly endless wall of books, over the solid wooden desk and honed in on a large portrait on the opposite wall. 

'Oh, if these walls could talk, darling, the works of Bram Stoker would seem modest.' she said, lifting her glass in salute. 

'Bottoms up.' She nearly inhaled the full glass, then topped it up again.

Cocksure, she moved towards the books behind the piano and glided her fingertips across the leather-bound covers. She propped her finger on the edge of a book, pulled back, and it dropped to the floor with a hard thump. A satisfied grin curved into the corner of her red lips. She moved on to the next book, then the next, creating a rhythm of gratified bangs onto the thick maroon carpet down the wall. 

She reached the globe bar in the corner, pulled the crystal stopper from the carafe and threw it over her shoulder. Nonchalantly, she picked up the bulky bottle and poured the whisky out over Europe.

2019

'Gran. Gran. Are you alright?' asked Hannah.

Out of her mused state, Colette returned to the present and smiled. 

'Just fine, darling. Daydreaming.'

Hannah squeezed her great-grandmother's shoulder and pushed the wheelchair past the old piano through the library. 

'Which books would you like to take with you, Gran?' 

'Love, if we have to do this, we will do it right. Where is my champagne?'  

'Really, now? It is not even ten in the morning yet?' said Hannah, surprised by her request. 

'Are you worried about my longevity? I'm almost certain champagne is why I am still one with my senses.'

Hannah pressed her lips together and raised an eyebrow at her Gran. 'I'll be right back, but mum's not gonna like it.'

'She doesn't need to know,' said Colette with a wink.

As soon as Hannah was out of sight, she flipped the wheelchair's foot pedals out of the way and took a few steps. She leaned onto the solid wooden desk and glided her crooked fingers across the smooth surface as she walked around it. Her frail hands rolled over the side, and she felt under the desktop for a familiar flat button she hadn't pressed in a long time. 

July 1945

Colette moved onto the desk and pulled the drawers slowly past their threshold. They flip onto the carpet, one after the other, in a sophisticated chaos, with her champagne in the air, careful not to spill a drop. She took another sip and winked at the portrait. 

'Clean enough for you now?.' 

The glass tinked as she placed it on the side of a marble bust under the portrait and made her way towards the fireplace. She points her index finger towards the fire pokers in a playful gist.

'Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy. Big house, little house, barn, pig-sty.' 

She leaned over and plucked the chosen poker from the stand. 

'That should do. What do you think, darling?' she said as she lifted the poker towards the painting. 

She smiled and ominously turned towards the glass cabinet filled with his golden trophies and sparkling awards.

'Now, darling, I might not be a professional, but I am sure I can swing a golf club. Let's see, shall we.' she said as she pulled the piano stool closer. Colette climbed onto the little sturdy chair, careful not to step on her silky garment. She blew away a few loose curls hanging over her left eye and leaned forward into the tee-off stance.

'Feet shoulder-width apart. Check. Eyes down. Check. Left arm straight. Check.' 

She curled her red nails perfectly around the poker.

'Fore!'

The crash of glass echoed through the library. Shards flew in a glittering dance through the room, a final explosion of contempt. A few fragments splinter away and embed themselves into her skin. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, accepting the pain as collateral damage. 

2019

The secret drawer clicked and slid open, still hidden underneath.

'Gran, what are you doing?' said Hannah as she walked back into the room, surprised to see Colette upright. She moved closer and placed the two glasses of champagne on the water-stained piano. 

'I need to find something, love.'

'Can I help, Gran?' Hannah tilted her head and moved in next to her. 

'In there. You should see an envelope in the little drawer.'

She bent down onto the threadbare carpet. 

'I see it,'

Hannah stood up and passed the worn-out envelope to her. Colette took it softly and held it close to her chest. 

'What is it?'

'I want to give this to you, but first, I have to tell you a story.'

June 1945

'I should have never brought you here. It was a mistake.' said Frank

Nancy cautiously leaned her head against the wall.

'You were not worth the trouble. Insignificant. I was blinded by our victory in the war.' he said. Discontent oozed in his slurred speech. 

'I should send you back before my family meets you. Back to your nothingness.'

A loud slap came from the room next to Nancy. She grabbed her mouth to smother her own reaction. 

Colette's constant cries were muted, but Nancy could still hear whispers through the wall. 

'I told you, don't call me DARLING! You disgust me!' Frank yelled out. 

Gargling sounds followed. 

Nancy stepped back but realised she had to act fast. She picked up the tea tray, carried it next door, and knocked loudly enough to startle herself. 

'Excuse me, sir,' she said in feigned confidence, 'the tea is ready.' 

A loud thud reverberated through the door. Nancy's eyes widened, expecting the worst. Keys rattled in the lock from the other side, and she dropped the tea tray in a crash to the floor. The door swung open. Colette stood jelly-like with blood-covered hands, clutching a letter opener. 

'Colette! Are you hurt?' Nancy yelled out. 

'I couldn't take it anymore. His hands were around my neck,' she said shakily. 'I had to.'

'Oh, Colette,' Nancy threw her arms around her in an attempt to calm her friend. Frank's body was spread face down across the desk, blood percolated from the gaping wound in his neck. 

'I will help you, don't you worry.' She took Colette by the shoulders and stared into her bloodshot eyes. 'We will make a plan. He deserved what he got. But first, you need to get cleaned up. Let me sort this out.'

A monstrous bang rang out through the room. The loud zinging sound echoed in her ears, and a heart-rending, muffled 'Nancy' broke from Colette's lips. Her eyes rolled back, away from Nancy's gaze, and she collapsed onto the floor. 

The pocket pistol dropped loudly onto the wooden desk, and a puff of smoke released along with Frank's last breath. 

2019

'I sat here, in the library, surrounded by pools of blood, my friend and her monster. She had no one, only me.'

'Gran, why are you telling me this. Such nonsense.' said Hannah. Horror framed her face, and disgust pulled at the corner of her mouth. 

'It took me three days to give her a dignified burial and clean the mess.' 

'No, wait. Gran. What do you mean by burial? Buried Colette? You mean Nancy, don't you?' 

She leaned back into her wheelchair and slowly shook her head from side to side. 

'During those three days, I realised what I needed to do. No one had met Colette yet, and the family was due to arrive. So I ransacked the house and left him on the desk. I also planted wildflowers and manoeuvred the bird baths over Colette's grave without disturbing the grass. Then, finally, I locked myself in the pantry before the family arrived.'

Hannah looked down into her shaking hands.

'What is in the envelope, Gran?'

'Open it.'

Hannah slowly unwrapped the large envelope folded around a booklet. She delicately opened it and read the identification certificate inside. 

'Nancy Shmidt. German'

Hannah stood statued into place, engrossed in a tidal wave of scandalous information.

'Gran, why didn't people look for Nancy, um, you?'

'It was the war. People disappeared.' 

'What do you want me to do with this?' Hannah held out the booklet as if it was contaminated. 

'Whatever you feel you need to do.' 

Hannah's eyes filled with tears. 

'Gran, is Colette buried in the raised plot behind the greenhouse?' 

'Yes.' 

'Where the builders are due to start tomorrow?' 

'Yes.'