Jane Morgan - Second place
Peterborough u3a
East of England region
A Cup of Tea and a Kind Word
The elderly taxi driver leapt from his seat as the cab arrived at Waterloo Station. He opened the rear door and saluted as Alexander struggled from his seat to the ground, feeling in his pocket for money.
“No charge, guv. Never ask a hero for money. Too bloody grateful for what you did. Somme was it?”
The young man steadied himself and grunted his thanks before hobbling slowly into the main entrance. The concourse was thronged with people; the air thick with steam and smoke and the pungent aroma of fish being unloaded. Alexander ducked as a pigeon flew across at head height and winced as a running small child missed his bad leg by inches.
He picked his way to the free buffet and ordered a cup of weak tea and a rock cake. A couple were just leaving and Alexander took their place at a table by the window. An elderly woman appeared and asked if she could take the other spare seat. He nodded. However engrossed in his own troubles, the rules of politeness drummed into him by his father and prep school were automatic. He just hoped the old dear wouldn’t want to talk. Predictably she did,
“You all right, love?” The old lady didn’t wait for an answer. “Silly question. I can see you’re not. Painful is it? The leg?”
Alexander was startled. Even his mother had not been brave enough to ask that.
“Thought so. I was a nurse – way back before I was married. Nursed lots of legs I have. They don’t take so many off as they used to in the old days.”
“No I suppose not.”
“These new doctors are doing amazing things since the war started. That bloke who invented that splint. Hero he is – saved so many men with broken legs. Who’d have thought just attaching a broken leg to a bit of wood could have made so much difference. Yours broken was it?”
Alexander found himself drawn to this scruffy woman with the kind face and he began to talk. “Not broken. There’s a bit of shrapnel stuck behind the knee which stops it bending properly. Got caught out in no-man’s land and a shell went off close by. Killed a couple of my mates but I was lucky I suppose. Doc said it was safer to leave it where it is for now than to try and get it out.”
“He’s probably right. Who d’you see?”
“Dr Wheeler. Harley Street. I’m blessed with a rich uncle.”
“Lucky boy. Wheeler’s the best. If he says leave it, then leave it’s what you should do.”
“He said it might work its way to a place that’s easier to get to one day. In the meantime I’m stuck with this.” He indicated the crutch leaning on his chair.
“Gotta do whatever helps though.”
“I suppose so.”
“Keep you on somewhere else did they?” She indicated the uniform.
“Yes. Desk job. Aldershot.”
“There’s a thing. I grew up in Aldershot. Got a job in the hospital kitchen when I left school and ended up looking after the lads.”
“I imagine you were good at nursing.”
“I don’t know. The senior nurse used to say I would talk the patients to death! But I say that a cheerful face makes all the difference to their recovery.”
“I think you are right.” Alexander had a flash of memory of a pretty girl in the field hospital who had been very kind to him. Not that he stayed there long. He was quickly determined to have a blighty and evacuated to a huge hospital near Southampton. He had stayed there for several months before recuperating at home for several more. He smiled at his companion.
“I’m heading back to Aldershot now. Been home to see the folks for a day or two. Mummy hates seeing me like this.”
“I’ll bet she does. It’s hard for us mums you know. After all those sleepless nights and cooking and washing you sort of expect your child to be in good shape when they grow up. Able to get a job and keep you in your old age. At least I don’t need that now with the old age pension. It’s a lot of money – pays my rent and all the things I need. It even covers the odd cuppa at the station!” She raised her cup in a toast and Alexander laughed.
“That’s better,” she said. “You needed a cheer up. I could tell.”
“I did! I so did. I was feeling really sorry for myself when I came in.” Thank you.” He held out his hand. “Alexander Scott-Rees”
“Dora Thompson”
“Glad to meet you” Alexander looked at his watch. Listen my train is almost due. What time is yours?”
“Not for a while yet.”
“Can I fetch you another cup of tea?”
“That’s very kind. I won’t say no.” Alexander limped across to the counter. “Tea please and um... maybe a bun?”
“Are you taking it to Dora?” the assistant asked. “I saw you talking to her”
“Yes I am.”
“Thought as much. She is really partial to a cheese scone.” She laughed at his expression. “Dora’s here every day. She is on a mission to cheer up soldiers passing through. Its better then being at home and brooding.”
“Brooding?”
“About her family. She lost her husband and little daughter just before the war to an outbreak of typhoid. Her son Alf went down on the Queen Mary at Jutland and Walter died at Verdun. She is all alone in the world.”
Alexander looked across at the lady who had made him feel so much better. She had already moved to talk to another young man and was cheerfully engaging him in conversation. He felt guilt and admiration in equal measures. Guilt that he had made so much fuss about a painful knee when he still had his whole life before him; admiration for a woman who had been through so much and come up smiling. He fished in his pocket for a scrap of paper and pen and wrote on it two words, “Treat Yourself”. He extracted a £5 note from his wallet, folded the two pieces of paper together and asked the assistant for an empty plate. He then laid the notes between the two plates and took the tea and the scone to the table.
He gave Dora’s shoulder a squeeze as wished her goodbye and hurried off to platform 10 for the Aldershot train. Dora had taught him a valuable lesson and one he would never forget.
As he crossed the concourse, still smiling, Dora turned round in her chair in the tea bar and gave her daughter Sarah a wink and a thumbs up. From behind the counter Sarah smiled back. The team had done it again.