Open Features: Open Day
A meeting which reminds Frank of a very special friend makes his day in this story by Eileen Perrin.
This year Richmond's Star and Garter Home Open Day had
attracted more visitors than ever. Frank sat in his wheelchair on the terrace, the evening sun still warm on his face. This afternoon the band from Kneller Hall had played out here. Pity it wasn't sunny then. The chill wind blowing up from the Thames had caused the visitors to scurry back inside for cakes and tea when the concert ended.
He had heard them, all of them, coming in. He loved to listen
to the chatter and to catch the childrens' voices. "Daddy, why has that man got...." "Can I have...?" and an insistent "Well, when can we go on the river?''
Frank was sixty-eight and had never married. He tried to
picture the ladies in their summery frocks and fancied he could still smell perfume that went with the 'cut-glass' accents, and heard again the warmth in the tones of friendly supporters who turned up once a year, every year, from far and wide. All nice company to have around, if only for a day.
A snatch of music, the 'Road to Mandalay', surfaced in his
memory. They played it this afternoon. It always affected him, calling him back to Burma, to the dark wet heat of the jungle, the stench of dank vegetation and insufferable humidity.
He could see it all. Eric leaning over him as he regained consciousness after the Jap ambush The grenade exploding... A searing pain in his shoulder.
Then stumbling along endless tracks cut by their Malay guides. Finally being carried by Eric, both of them covered in sweat and Frank's blood, to the banks of the Chindwin river.
Dimly aware of the relief in the whispered curses around him as they made their escape by boat.
Frank was woken from his reverie, as a wisp of cool evening
breeze found his neck.
Ah well, coming here had been a good thing, and now, after
thirty years of loving care, he wondered where the time had gone.
Time to go inside for supper. He pressed the button on his chair. Its movement was sluggish. He made a mental note to ask the Ghurka orderly about a new battery in the morning.
He caught the voices of his pals assembling in the dining hall. Familiar sounds and smells drifted in from the kitchens. Then
hands on the back of his chair took up the momentum as he was pushed towards his usual place near the servery. Probably Chrissie the Scots girl. She was on every weekend. Yes he knew it was Chrissie. She had a firm and steady push.
He felt the pressure transfer to the arm of his chair as Chrissie leant over. " You're quiet, Frank. How was the day? There's
been such a lot going on and they say we've had a surprising attendance.''
Frank smiled "Yes there was.''
He was picturing Eric's son, who had met for the first time.
