by John Kelly
The two elderly ladies were waiting expectantly at the front gate, dressed in their matching floral dresses and broad brimmed hats protecting them from the harsh sun. They looked every inch the twin sisters they were, and tugged at each other's arm as they noticed the car coming up the street. 'Here he comes,' Penelope said excitedly, to her sister Evelyn. The taxi driver swung the car into the driveway pulling up alongside them; the two women motioned forward and climbed into the back seat.
'Afternoon ladies. Where to?' the driver asked. 'We are off to Bundoora,' Penelope replied. 'To Coventry House. I'm sure you've heard of it?' 'Sorry,' he said. 'I haven't. What street?' 'It's at No. 5 Power Avenue,' Evelyn replied, reading from a scrap of paper she retrieved from her handbag. 'Okay,' the driver answered, satisfied they knew where they were going. 'That's fine. We'll get there I'm sure.' Thus the journey began, the driver performing a faultless u-turn in the driveway of the retirement centre and turning left out onto King Street. 'My sister and I are off to visit our brother at his new home,' Penelope volunteered. 'That's nice. I'll go along Grimshaw Street and you can direct me from there,' the driver replied. 'Oh, we've never been there,' she answered.
'No problem. I'll look it up,' the driver replied.
'I thought you would have heard of it. Coventry House, named after the famous general in the Army.'
'No,' the driver answered, 'never heard of him. Which war?' 'Oh I think it must have been the second.' 'Why?' 'I don't remember the first. Do you Evelyn?' 'Do I what?' 'Remember General Coventry.'
'No. Did we meet him recently?'
'No, he's dead. He was in the war. They named Coventry House after him.'
'Oh, that's where we are going now isn't it?'
The driver, fresh and alert, thought the two ladies a little loopy, and quickly decided they would be of no help whatsoever in helping him locate Power Avenue in Bundoora. As the traffic lights changed to red, he reached for his street directory and looked it up.
'Have some bad news for you ladies. There is no Power Avenue in Bundoora.'
'Oh, it must be Power Street then. Number 5.'
'Sorry, no Power Street either. No Power anything in Bundoora.'
'Oh dear, but I wrote it down on this paper.'
'Where did you get the information from?' the driver asked.
'From my teledex,' Evelyn replied.
'And from where did you get the information to write it in your teledex?' the driver asked, now somewhat uncertain whether the two passengers had the slightest idea where they were going.
'I can't remember,' she replied.
'That's funny,' her sister Penelope said. 'I always thought it was Pascoe Vale, not Bundoora.'
'Hold on a moment then,' the driver said, as he checked for Power Street in Pascoe Vale. 'No, nothing there either,' he said. 'I'd better stop and check with someone.'
They continued driving through the Greensborough shopping centre, onto Grimshaw Street. They passed the Police Station and the driver wondered if he should go back and check with the men in blue but dismissed the idea. As they continued along he thought to find a public telephone box and look up the address in the phone book. The only public phone he found revealed one trashed phone book. 'Vandals,' he thought. He decided to pull into the next service station. At least they would have a phone book and he could look up Coventry House, but there were no service stations along the route and he was fast approaching the T-intersection at Plenty Road when he noticed a Real Estate agent's office near the corner.
'I'll check here,' he said to the ladies as he pulled over. 'They'll know. Don't drive off and leave me stranded will you?' he joked. The two ladies in the back seat chuckled.
Inside the Real Estate office a pretty young lady sat behind the reception counter.
'Good afternoon,' the driver said. 'I need some help. I have two elderly ladies in my taxi who have no idea where they want to go. We are looking for Coventry House. It's supposed to be some kind of a Retirement Village or something like that.'
'Oh yes,' the young lady replied. 'I know where that is. Turn right here at the intersection go through the shopping centre and when you get to Greenhill's Drive, turn right. The place you want is just there.'
'Wonderful. Thank you,' the driver replied and returned to the car.
'All's well,' he said to his passengers. 'It's just down the road. No harm done.'
The journey through the shopping centre was quick and uneventful and as expected, when the driver arrived at Greenhill's Drive, just opposite, the sign read, 'Bundoora Retirement Centre.'
'Is this it?' Penelope asked.
'I think so,' replied the driver, 'although I don't see any sign that says Coventry House. You wait here and I'll go and check.'
After negotiating the security code, he entered the reception area and asked the lady in the office if this was Coventry house.
'No, I'm afraid you are at the wrong facility,' the manager replied.
'I have two elderly ladies in the cab and they have no idea where they want to go, except that it's a retirement village called Coventry House in Power Street, Bundoora. There is no Power Street in Bundoora and I don't know what else to do,' the driver pleaded.
'Coventry House is in Bower Street Bundoora, driver. It's just up the highway, back toward the city, on the right.'
'Bloody hell. Not even the local Real Estate office knew that. Thank you. I'll look it up in the Street Directory.'
The driver returned to the car, where the ladies waited patiently.
'Bower Street ladies! B for Bower, not P for Power! Write it down, so you can update your teledex.'
'Is it in Bundoora or Pascoe Vale?' Evelyn asked as she rifled through her handbag for a pencil and paper.
'Give me strength,' the driver muttered.
'You have been very helpful driver. My sister and I appreciate your concern and your effort. We are going to see our brother who has just moved in here,' Penelope volunteered.
'It's nothing,' the driver replied. 'You would be surprised how many times I pick up people who have no idea where they are going. But we generally work it out.'
The journey finally came to an end as the driver pulled into the portico of Coventry House.
'That'll be twenty eight dollars ladies.'
'I wonder, could you return in an hour and take us back home?' Evelyn asked.
'Er, yes fine, I can do that for you,' he answered.
'What is your name, driver?'
'My name is Costas,' he replied.
'Thank you Costas,' Evelyn said, as she handed him the money. 'We will see you here in an hour, then.'
Both women struggled out of the back seat, adjusted their dresses, straightened their hats, gave the driver a polite wave and entered the foyer of Coventry house.
With the help of the receptionist, Penelope and Evelyn Maclean found their way along the east corridor to their ageing brother's apartment and knocked on the door.
'Come in,' they heard him call, and entered to find Ronnie Maclean, resting in a comfortable armchair in front of the television set.
'Hello Ronnie, how are you? All unpacked and settled are you?' Evelyn asked. Ronnie shifted awkwardly in his chair, grimacing slightly as the pain increased.
'Hello, you two. Yes, I suppose so. Don't mind if I don't get up do you? Can you get me a glass of beer while you are up? It's in the fridge. The glasses are in the cupboard above the kitchen bench.'
'Yes that's all right. Leave it to us. Would you like a drink Penelope?' Evelyn asked. Penelope nodded as she leaned over to kiss her brother on the forehead.
'Have you heard anything from David?' Penelope asked.
'No, nothing yet. I doubt he would have had time to do much. He only left yesterday.'
'When does he arrive in Japan?' Evelyn asked.
'He'll be in Vietnam and Hong Kong for a while. Then he flies to Tokyo. He doesn't know the country well, and he has Margaret with him so it'll take him a while to get down to doing the business.'
; 'Well, he'll be fine, I'm sure,' Penelope said, confidently.
'I should be there with him,' Ronnie said, 'letting him do the heavy work but guiding him. I'm sure Quentin Avers is arranging something. If David doesn't get there first, Avers will claim it all, and you two and David will get nothing.'
'There, there,' Evelyn said, 'don't worry about that. We are all too old to be concerned about what we get. It's the justice of the matter that we care about, not the money.'
The three of them continued talking just as they did every other time the sisters visited their ailing brother. Now that Ronnie had been safely resettled in a facility providing 24 hour care, the sisters were relieved of much of the responsibility they had assumed over the past year and with it, the stress of caring for an aged relative. They were five years his junior, not young themselves, but in good health. Ronnie was a private person and over the years, had not spoken much about the past, about his overseas service in Japan as a member of the occupying forces.
It was not until a few months earlier, that his memories of the past were revived. While still at home one day, he received a large envelope in the mail. The envelope contained a journal with an anonymous account of certain events that occurred while he was in Japan in 1946. It was written by a fellow soldier, who, for reasons as yet unknown to Ronnie Maclean, chose not to identify himself. But the contents made it necessary that Ronnie discuss the matter with his sisters. When he read the journal, his fading memory found new life. Matters long ago consigned to the archives of the brain were suddenly dug up and thrust forward, motivating him to take action.
One hour later, the taxi driver, Costas, drove in underneath the portico at Coventry House where the two elderly ladies, Penelope and Evelyn were comfortably seated, and waiting outside.
'Oh thank you for being so prompt, Costas.' Evelyn said, recognizing the driver from one hour earlier. 'We were hoping you might come early, so we sat out here waiting.'
'Well, at least for this trip I don't have to ask where you are going, do I? See your brother all right then?' Costas asked.
'Yes, but he was very tired, and we had to let him sleep. It's been a very difficult time for him having to move. But at least he's settled now and won't have to worry about moving anymore.'
'In the nursing home is he?' Costas asked.
'No, he's in an apartment. But if he has to go to nursing care level, they have that available here, so we won't have to worry about moving him again.'
'How old is he?'
'He's eighty,' Evelyn answered.
'Not a bad age,' Costas replied.
'Yes, he's been through a lot and just getting this far is a blessing.'
'In the war was he?'
'It depends on which war you are talking about,' Penelope replied. 'He spent time in Japan, in the post-war period. He was also in Malaya and Vietnam.'
'Career soldier?'
'Yes. He was with the British Commonwealth Occupation Force in Japan. They were there to assist in the dismantling of all the Japanese weaponry. He was stationed near Hiroshima after they dropped the atom bomb.'
'Hiroshima! Wow! That would have been something to see,' Costas said.
'Yes, it was, and perhaps he saw too much of it.'
'What do you mean?'
'Our brother is dying of Leukaemia. We think he developed the disease from radiation exposure when he was there. He was planning to go back this year but decided it was too much. His son David, our nephew, and his wife are going there on holiday soon. They have a long list of places our brother has recommended they visit. We'll hear all about it when they return.'
3.