Valentine Joe Read Free Page B

you,’ she said to Grandad.
    â€˜It means “please”,’ he explained. ‘Very important word. Useful when you want to ask for stuff. Biscuits, for example.’
    â€˜ Biscuits ?’
    â€˜Oh yes. Belgium’s famous for ’em. Everybody knows that.’
    â€˜How d’you say that word again?’
    Grandad checked his book and then repeated it, making it sound even more like a sneeze: ‘Alstublieft!’
    â€˜I’m never going to remember that.’
    Grandad looked pleased, as if he’d won an argument. ‘Told you it was a difficult language,’ he said.
    Rose sighed. Her knees were starting to hurt from crouching down by the dog. ‘They speak French here too, don’t they?’ she said as she stood up. ‘Maybe he’s a bilingual dog. I could say bonjour .’
    â€˜You could,’ said Grandad, putting on his most serious face. ‘But you might look a bit daft. Talking French to a dog.’ He grabbed the handle of his suitcase. ‘Come on. Let’s find our hotel.’
    â€˜Hang on, Grandad—’ Rose looked down at the dog. ‘Do you think he’s a stray?’
    Grandad paused. ‘No collar,’ he said. ‘But he looks healthy enough.’
    â€˜He’s a bit skinny. I could feel his bones when I was stroking him.’
    â€˜Tough-looking little chap, though, Cabbage. I reckon he can look after himself.’
    â€˜Maybe, but—’
    â€˜And we can hardly take him to the hotel with us, can we? I bet he belongs to someone. Probably lives round here.’
    Rose wasn’t sure. There was something about the dog that made her feel responsible for him. It wasn’t just that she was afraid he was a stray. It was the way he looked ather, as if he was trying to tell her something. But before she could say anything, he got up and trotted off with his tail in the air, casting a quick look back over his shoulder as he went. So that was that.
    Rose just stood there, watching him go, but Grandad struck a dramatic pose and called after him, waving.
    â€˜Vaarwel! Vaarwel, mijn vriend!’
    Rose stared at him, open-mouthed.
    â€˜Flemish for goodbye, Cabbage.’
    â€˜I guessed that much – farewell. What did the second bit mean?’
    â€˜What, the bit that sounded like “my friend”?’ He made a big show of looking in the book. ‘Ah yes, here it is. It means “my friend”.’
    Rose gritted her teeth. Sometimes Grandad could be quite annoying.
    He snapped the book shut and twinkled at her, thoroughly delighted with himself. ‘I’m not just a pretty face, you know.’
    Rose shook her head. He really was unbelievable.
    â€˜Right. What we need now is the map. Map map map . . .’
    He rummaged in his bag again and pulled out a single crumpled sheet of A4 that he’d printed out before they left. After studying it for a bit, then turning it the right way up and studying it some more, he announced, ‘This way!’ and they set off across the car park and into the city.
    Rose was nearly as tall as Grandad now, and he had a slight limp from having polio as a boy, but she still found it hard to keep up. He walked faster than anyone she knew.
    â€˜They rebuilt it after the war, you know, the city.’ Grandad had done his research before they left, and wasdetermined to share it. ‘Every brick, every stone, was put back, exactly as it had been. There was nothing left in 1918, not a thing. It had all been blasted to smithereens.’
    Rose looked along the street. It was neat and pretty, lined with houses built of light-coloured brick, quite unlike the warm red of the houses in Rose’s street back home. But there was something strange about it. It was almost too neat, too pretty, like the pond they’d seen from the train. Even the people seemed too perfect: the woman riding past on an old-fashioned bicycle with a bunch of flowers in