by Mark Stewart
LILLY RAN home. The moment she stepped onto the grass near the letterbox she fell to her knees, vomiting. She’d lost Jack to the pub. Lilly crawled towards the front door. She knew she didn’t have enough strength to stand and walk inside the house, so she sat, leaning against the door, sobbing. Lilly didn’t know old Mr. Hutchins watched her closely from the front porch of his house.
A determined stone-cold expression slowly swept the old man’s face. Hutchins didn’t take the time to explain to his wife where he planned to go; he walked off down the road, hobbling at a fairly quick pace.
When Mr. Hutchins saw the outside of the pub, he abruptly stopped to think about the warning his wife told him all those years ago, when he first stepped off the ship at the end of the First World War.
‘Don’t drown your sorrows in a beer glass.’
Her warning still rang crystal clear in his ears. It was as though she’d said the words yesterday.
Hutchins willed his mind to make his old legs and feet move faster. Pulling open the door he could hear the voices of the men talking over each other trying to be heard. They were trying to tell their hero stories. He knew they’d be saying them inside the pub all their lives. He threw his coat on a side table and closed the door.
The haze of cigarette smoke filled the room. At a guess, Hutchins estimated about forty soldiers and twenty sailors were standing around in small groups of five or six. He focused on the barman. The man didn’t have time to glance at the door; he needed to fill the empty glasses the men held before they swore at him for being slow. Further to his left Hutchins saw a small cleared area where a group of ten men was playing a game of Two-Up. Toss two pennies into the air and bet on what landed face up; heads or tails. He didn’t walk into the pub to play the illegal game or swap his stories about the war. Hutchins entered the room for one reason only.
The old man stood to full height, arching his back. A few bones clicked. He ignored the arthritis in those joints. Glancing to his right, Hutchins saw the man he came to find sitting by himself at a table near the window staring into the almost empty glass in front of him unperturbed at the noise in the room. A walking stick hung over the back of the chair. Hutchins snaked his way through the crowd. Hovering over the ex-sailor, Hutchins now looked a giant of a man. He coiled his fingers into tight fists and spoke in a tough voice.
“I didn’t have any trouble finding you.”
“What do you want?” growled Jack, glaring up at Hutchins.
“I’m here to talk some sense into you.”
“Forget it old man. I couldn’t care less about what you have to say,” snarled Jack.
“Okay, let me put it this way, I’m here to give you a warning.”
Jack snorted and gestured a flippant wave of his hand, easily dismissing the threat.
“Pull up a chair; we can shout each other a drink.”
“I’m not here to drink,” barked Hutchins.
“A man enters the pub for two reasons. He’s either here to have a drink, or he’s here to fight.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not here to have a drink,” jeered Hutchins.
Jack stared into his eyes. “I’ve killed people who came against me. I didn’t even know their names. Go home; you’re too old to fight.” Jack swallowed what remained of the white froth in the glass then refocused on the man glaring at him. “Are you still here?”
“So, you think I’m too old?” taunted Mr. Hutchins leaning his fists on the table. “Let me tell you something Jack boy; I can easily whip your arse. Stand up; I’ll prove it.”
Jack laughed sarcastically. He raised the empty glass and threw it down onto the floor. Wet glass fragments spewed across the room in a gush. Jack moved to stand.
“Scared old timer?”
“There’s no way I could ever be scared of you.”
The noise in the room instantly fell to a graveyard quiet.
Pushing his hands under the table Hutchins gave one mighty lift, sending the table flying through the air. A few soldiers were bowled off their feet. Hutchins stepped forward wearing the expression of a champion boxer. In one fast jab to Jack’s cheek, he sent him flying after the table. Jack slowly staggered to his feet glaring at the old man. Hutchins pointed his finger directly at Jack.
“I’ve seen Lilly cry for the last time. Get out of this place. Go to her. She’s been such a strong woman since the day you left. I told her you’d be arriving on the ship today. All night she was awake. She left the house in the dark so she could be early. She wanted to see the ship long before it docked. Let me tell you something, young fella; I know what you needed to do to survive the war. I did the same. My lovely wife found me drowning my sorrows in this place just like you. I’m telling you what she told me. If you want a happy future with a wonderful woman, go home. Never come in here again. If you do, you’ll never leave.”
“I killed people,” spat Jack. “They probably felt the same way I did. They didn’t want to go to war. They didn’t want to die. I looked into their eyes as they took their last breath. I saw them cry just before they died.”
“I did too,” admitted Hutchins. “Let me tell you a story. In the First World War, my job was to plant bombs on the beach. When the enemy on guard duty walked along the sand, I walked too. When he stopped, I stopped. You have no idea how much noise sand makes. I decided to go for a stroll a while back. I just happened to be walking past the factory where Lilly worked. I saw what she did. She’ll never say, and I’ll never tell her secret.”
Jack fell back onto the floor, crying for the first time in his life. He stared up into the old man’s eyes.
“I’ve hurt Lilly big time. I’ll be surprised if she ever takes me back or loves me like she did before I left.”
“You’ll be surprised what she is capable of doing.” Mr. Hutchins swiped Jack’s walking stick from off the floor, handing it over. “Come on Jack, let’s walk home together. What do you say?”
Jack took hold of his walking stick. Using his free hand, he grabbed Hutchins’ hand so he could stand. Jack allowed the old man to lead the way out of the pub. The bright sunshine made Jack’s face sting from the growing bruise.
Five minutes from the pub Jack stopped for a breather, looking at the back of Hutchins. When he turned around Jack spoke.
“Hutchins, is the story you told me about the sand true?”
“It sure is. The next time you’re at the beach take a walk. Listen to the noise the sand makes. You’ll be surprised at how loud it is.”
“I want to go home.”
“Good for you,” said Hutchins. “If it takes until dusk to get there, I’m sure the walk will do us both the world of good.”
“To pass the time do you want to tell another story about what you went through?”
“I tell you what we can do,” suggested Hutchins. “Seeing how it’ll probably take us longer than thirty minutes to get home we’ll take it in turns. Jack, you do realize if you want someone to talk to I live in the house next to yours.”
“Thanks,” responded Jack. “I’ll keep you to your promise.”
Slowly they made it home. Lilly saw Jack coming. She stood, straightening her clothes and drying her eyes. She ran her fingers through her long hair. Before Jack got to the front wire fence, he pushed his hand into his pocket. He took out the money Lilly gave him, thrusting it at her.
“I never used your money. I had a couple of pounds in my pocket they gave me when I left the ship. I’ve no right taking money from you. The money belongs to you.”
“The money is ours,” corrected Lilly smoothly.
Jack leaned against the fence looking directly into her eyes. “Please, I need you to forgive me. I promise never to raise my hand to you again.”
Lilly glanced at Mr. Hutchins. He nodded and continued his walk back to his house.
Stepping up to Jack, Lilly took hold of his hand. “How did you get a bruised cheek?”
“Mr. Hutchins is a strong man. He helped me to see reason.�
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Jack stopped Lilly from patting his red swollen cheek.
“I’ve felt worse,” he confessed. “Please, kiss me, Lilly.”
They both leaned into each other at the same time. The only thing between them, happened to be the low rusty chicken wire fence.
Lilly could feel Jack’s warm, soft lips pushing against hers. She wasn’t sure who might be crying the harder; her or Jack. She felt his arms wrap around her waist. Even though Jack relied on a walking stick, he certainly hadn’t lost his strength. He picked her up. Standing firm he held Lilly in his arms, kissing her.
Eventually, Jack allowed Lilly to stand on her own two feet. He lovingly stroked her long hair. “If you’ll have me I want to come home.”
“What about the pub?” Lilly questioned.
“I never want to see the inside of the place again. How can I ever begin to apologize for yelling at you or for raising my hand to hit you? I vow it will never happen again.” Using his index finger Jack gently touched Lilly’s lips. “Before you say anything I want to say I love you.”
“I love you too, Jack,” replied Lilly. “Welcome home.”
Once again Jack and Lilly cemented their lips together.
Mr. Hutchins watched the scene from his chair on the verandah of his house. Painting a grin on his face, he hobbled back inside his home and quietly shut the door. He walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his wife.
“Darling I love you,” he whispered. “Thanks for saving my life from the bottle.”
“I love you too,” she replied. “Where did you go? I was getting worried.”
“I went for a walk.”
“Where exactly did you go?”
“I guess I must to be honest.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I went to the pub.”
“Didn’t you promise me something when you came home from the First World War?”
Mr. Hutchins glanced at the unopened bottle of beer on the top shelf of the cupboard. A thick layer of dust still covered the neck of the bottle. He hadn’t touched it in years. He focused on his wife’s blue eyes, and smiled lovingly.
“Yes, I did promise you something.”
“Did you go to have a drink? Did you go mingle with the soldiers who have just now arrived back from their fight?”
“I saw the soldiers. There was a lot of noise. I also saw Jack.”
“He’s home.”
“Yes, he’s home to stay.”
“Did he ask you to have a drink?”
“Yes. Don’t look so concerned. I told Jack, no.”
“How did he take the news?”
Mr. Hutchins clenched his fist, lifting it to eye level. “I’m happy he saw reason in my words. My broken knuckle couldn’t take another pounding. I’ve lived up to what I promised you all those years ago. I will keep the promise until the day I inhale my last breath.”
The old man reeled his wife in tight, so he could kiss her.
Eventually, Jack and Lilly stopped for a breather.
“I believe you have something to show me?” questioned Jack.
Lilly reached out and took hold of his hand. Patiently she helped him to walk along the narrow path and into the backyard. The moment he turned the corner he stood staring at the Old Clunker.
“How on earth did you manage to get it here?”
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“You are indeed an amazing woman,” whispered Jack. “I’m lucky to be married to you.”
“I’d say it’s a blessing we’re both still here,” replied Lilly.
Jack flashed a caring, inquisitive look.
“Come sit. I’ll explain how I obtained the bullet making machine.” Lilly pushed her hand into her skirt pocket, pulling out the bag of sweets. “I saved you one.”
Jack tasted the lolly. His face expressed total enthusiasm. “Fantastic,” he admitted. “Have you thought up a name for your business?”
“Our business,” corrected Lilly. “Jack, we’re in this together.” She was about to say a name when she decided on another idea. “I thought I’d leave the name to you.”
“Can I sleep on it and tell you tomorrow?”
“Yes, you may.”
Jack ran his hands slowly across the surface of machine’s dome.
“It looks like you’ll have to teach me how to use it and how to fix the machine if it ever breaks down,” he blurted, choking on his words.
CHAPTER TWELVE