Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and a fabulous 2015. Here is a little story I wrote a few years ago that might warm your heart.
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BACK HOME
Nursing the heroes at Passchendaele, she had
promised to get messages
to loved ones; people like these who had come to witness the homecoming of
the hospital ship. White
against a pewter sky,
the red cross of Geneva showed prominently on her hull, decked out in the neutral
colours of mercy and compassion, Gigantic signalled the end to hostilities.
Annie
felt a painful surge of all-embracing pride as the slow disembarkation of stretcher cases, urged
her to ease her pace and acknowledge these brave men. While the huge crowds
desperately waited for the
sight of injured loved-ones, she made her way from the dock.
`Carry yer bag Miss?’
Recognising the
keenness of the slightly-built young’un, she noted the too-large cap that hid a
lean look of hunger and decided not to take a seat on the overhead railway
today.
`I’ll take a hansom.’ Handing him the valise she
sadly noted his bare smacks, slapping the cobbled setts. `It can’t be
easy lugging cases on the cobbles, haven’t you got any boots?’ Nodding to his
grimy, chilblained feet, she hoped her tone didn’t sound condescending.
`I’ve
got a family to feed, Miss,’ he said stoically pushing back the rim of the outsized
flat cap `boots don’t come cheap, y’know, not when empty
plates need filling.’
Annie admired his obligation, knowing of young
battalions who would see no more clean plates,
and she was heartily glad
of the life in him.
`I’m a mermaid, don’t you know?’ The words,
which had been left unsaid for a long time, brought to mind the face of another
young lad, much like this one.
’Is
that so, Miss?’ His lopsided grin showed a healthy scepticism, melting her heart
and bringing back memories of days long gone… She slipped a florin into his
hand when they reached the hansom cab, and Annie watched him knock back his cap
even further, his eyes lighting at
the sight of the precious coin.
`Strike
me!’ He flicked it into the freezing air, `it’s not every day you meet a mermaid!’ Slipping the two-bob
bit into the pocket of a tattered waistcoat, he then slowly raised his eyes to
hers and in a tone thick with gratitude he said solemnly;
`This is `preciated very much, Miss… My ould
man caught the business end of a toffee-apple at the Somme... I’m the
bread-winner now...’ Annie silently acknowledged his admission with
an understanding nod.
`I’m sure your mother is relieved she’s still got you. Good on you, Lad.’ She had seen the devastation trench mortar bombs caused a body. She also understood that no more words were necessary as, tipping the cap that had probably belonged to his heroic father, the boy disappeared into the throng to earn another copper or two…
`I’m sure your mother is relieved she’s still got you. Good on you, Lad.’ She had seen the devastation trench mortar bombs caused a body. She also understood that no more words were necessary as, tipping the cap that had probably belonged to his heroic father, the boy disappeared into the throng to earn another copper or two…
The
rhythmic sway of the carriage lulled her as she travelled the uneven thoroughfare,
taking in the familiar landscape of corner shops and ale-houses. Her eyes
followed the line of stone-streaked cerulean sky to the warehouses and
dockyards hugging the river, once the forbidden playground of her brothers.
Sighing quietly she watched the first
snowflakes of winter begin to fall and dust the back-to-back terraced houses that
ribbed the backbone of the
dock road and her memories slipped to another time, another place. For certain
there were countless heroes,
and she knew some would remain nameless forever, taking care of business back
home...
© Sheila Riley
