the bench on which his grandmother used to rest, when she was tired of pruning rose bushes and bougainvillaea. ‘Let’s just sit here,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to go inside.’ She sat beside him on the bench. It was March, and the mango tree was in blossom. A sweet, rather heavy fragrance drenched the garden. They were silent for some time. The man closed his eyes and remembered other times - the music of a piano, the chiming of a grandfather clock, the constant twitter of budgerigars on the veranda, his grandfather’s cranking up the old car.... ‘I used to climb the jackfruit tree,’ he said, opening his eyes. ‘I didn’t like the jackfruit, though. Do you?’ ‘It’s all right in pickles.’ ‘I suppose so…. The tree was easy to climb; I spent a lot of time in it.’ ‘Do you want to climb it again? My parents won’t mind.’ ‘No, no. Not after climbing the garden wall. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes and talk. I mention the jackfruit tree because it was my favourite place. Do you see that thick branch stretching out over the roof ? Half way along it there’s a small hollow in which I used to keep some of my treasures.’ ‘What kind of treasures?’ ‘Oh, nothing very valuable. Marbles I’d won. A book I wasn’t supposed to read. A few old coins I’d collected. Things came and went. I was a bit of a crow, you know, collecting bright things and putting them away. There was my grandfather’s Iron Cross. Well, not my grandfather’s exactly, because he was British and the Iron Cross’ was a German decoration awarded for bravery during the War - the first World War - when my grandfather fought in France. He got it from a German soldier.’ ‘Dead or alive?’ ‘I beg your pardon? Oh, you mean the German. I never asked. Dead, I suppose. Or perhaps he was a prisoner. I never asked Grandfather. Isn’t that strange?’ ‘And the Iron Cross? Do you still have it?’ ‘No’, he said, looking her in the eyes. ‘I left it in the jackfruit tree.’ ‘You left it in the tree?’ ‘Yes, I was so excited at the time, packing and saying goodbye to people and thinking about the ship I was going to sail on that I simply forgot all about it.’ She was silent, considering, her finger on her lips, her gaze fixed on the jackfruit tree. Then, quietly, she said, ‘It may still be there. In the hollow in the branch.’ ‘Yes’, he said. ‘It’s twenty-five years, but it may still be there. Unless someone else found it….’ ‘Would you like to go and look?’ ‘I can’t climb trees any more.’