‘I’m not totally stupid, Grandad,’ I said.
Pop set up the chessboard and said nothing. When all the pieces were aligned, he regarded me across the board, one eye partially closed, like a strange and disturbing wink.
‘I never thought you were totally stupid, young Rob. Just partly stupid, like the rest of humanity.’ He put a hand out, palm raised, inviting me to start. I moved my king’s knight’s pawn forward one square.
‘Good example,’ he said. ‘What kind of dumb opening move is that?’
‘One I’ve never tried before,’ I replied. ‘All the others have led to defeat.’
‘And you think this won’t?’ said Grandad.
‘Oh, it probably will,’ I said. ‘But at least I will have found a different way to lose.’
Grandad grunted and moved his king’s pawn forward two spaces.
‘I think you were either conscripted or volunteered for the Vietnam War in the mid-nineteen sixties,’ I said. ‘I believe you fought in that war, possibly at the battle of Long Tan in 1966. Then you returned to Australia and met my grandmother in 1967. Maybe you were injured in the war. Or maybe you were simply allowed to come home. Am I close?’ I moved my queen’s knight’s pawn forward two spaces. ‘I looked up wars in the nineteen sixties,’ I added. ‘Ones involving Australians.’
Grandad was silent. I tried not to meet his eyes, but I couldn’t help noticing his right hand shook slightly. I resisted the urge to fill the silence.
‘I told you I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Grandad finally. ‘Is that really too much to ask?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It is. Now, I’m not asking for all the details, the things you saw, the horrors I imagine you witnessed. I just want some facts, Grandad. That’s all. Nice, uncomplicated facts about where you were. That can’t be difficult, can it? “Yes, I was in the Vietnam War. From 1965 to 1967. Okay, Rob? Fancy a cup of tea?” I’d be satisfied with that.’ I wasn’t sure if that was strictly true, but Grandad didn’t need to know it.
Pop stood and picked up his cane. He walked a few steps to the French windows and gazed out to the distant lake. Suddenly I was worried. Grandad never walked away from a chess game. Had I really touched a nerve I had no right to touch, simply to satisfy personal curiosity? Or was this a legitimate opportunity to fill in the gaps of my own background, my rightful inheritance?
‘Maybe you’re right, Rob,’ he said. His voice was so low I had to strain to catch the words. ‘Yes, I fought in the Vietnam War. I was stationed at Nui Dat in the province of Phuoc Tuy. Yes, I saw horrors, particularly at the battle of Long Tan. And most of the horrors, I committed myself. Is that what you wanted to hear? Am I excused now?’
My mouth had gone dry. It wasn’t so much the words Grandad used, as the tone. Not resigned – that’s not quite right. But … weary. So weary.
‘Grandad,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. You’re right. It’s none of my business.’
I wanted to get up and put a hand on his shoulder. No. I wanted to get up and hug him. But I was scared of what might happen next. What if he shuddered and pushed me away?
Pop stood against the bright backdrop of the window. Outside, the sun was falling towards the tops of the trees and the distant waters of the lake were kissed by gold. Grandad did shudder then. And he seemed to shrink in on himself. When he turned to face me, it was as if he’d aged years in the last two minutes.
‘Let’s play,’ he said. Was it my imagination, or were his steps back to the table more unsteady than normal? He sat and gazed at the board, moved a piece forward. Then he met my eyes. ‘Not your fault, Rob,’ he said. He smiled, but it was twisted somehow. ‘Not remotely your fault, okay?’
I nodded, but that didn’t mean I agreed with his words. I felt soaked in guilt.
‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, when you uncork a bottle and let the contents out, you can’t get them back in. Do you know what I mean?’
I nodded again.
‘I’ll tell you something about my time in Vietnam,’ he said, ‘because I think you deserve to know why your grandmother couldn’t stay with me. That part is your heritage and I guess you should know why you never had a grandma telling you bedtime stories, watching you grow up. But I won’t talk about it too much and when I’m done, I’m done, okay?’
I nodded.
He pointed to the board. ‘Your move,’ he said.