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“Let’s hope he does,” said Ralph in his most sincere voice.
Lieutenant Jackson nodded and said, “God help the man.”
Ralph didn’t believe in God, but decided he would hang around for a couple of hours or so before he reported back to the colonel that sadly Carrigan had not returned, and therefore the mission would have to be aborted.
An hour passed and there was no sign of Carrigan. Another fifteen minutes, still no sign. But Ralph remained huddled in a corner of the trench for another half hour before he allowed himself the suggestion of a smile.
“Damned fine effort,” he said to Lieutenant Jackson, who was peering through a pair of binoculars across the wooded landscape. “One couldn’t have asked more of Carrigan,” continued Ralph as he checked his watch. “Well, I’d better get back to HQ and let the colonel know that the advance will have to be delayed until we can make radio contact. Damn fine effort,” he repeated. “I’ll be recommending to the colonel that Carrigan is awarded the Military Medal for service above and beyond the call of duty. It’s the least he deserves,” he added before he began to crawl along the trench.
“Hang on, sir,” said Lieutenant Jackson. “I think I can see someone in the distance.”
Ralph crawled back, fearing the worst. “He’s about a hundred yards away,” added Jackson, “and heading straight for us.”
“Where?” said Ralph, leaping up and staring across the barren terrain.
“Get down, sir,” shouted the lieutenant, but he was too late, because the bullet hit Captain Ralph Dudley Dawson, Esq. in the forehead, and he sank back down into the mud just as Carrigan dived into the trench.
* * *
The Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry continued their advance toward Berlin at first light, while a coffin containing the body of Captain Dudley Dawson was shipped back to England, along with a letter of condolence from his commanding officer. The colonel was able to assure the grieving widow that her husband had sacrificed his life while serving his country on the front line.
The fifth battalion of the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry won a great battle that day, and a year later at a service held in Truro Cathedral, the name of Normandy was added to the regimental colors.
Among those seated in the congregation was Corporal Jamie Carrigan MM, along with his wife and two children, Rupert and Susie. Unfortunately, Ralph Dudley Dawson, Esq. hadn’t considered the possibility of mortality, and died intestate. His wife, being the next of kin, inherited a thousand-acre estate, ten thousand sheep, Nethercote Hall, and all his other worldly goods.
Jamie Carrigan never thought of himself as the local squire, just a farm manager who’d been lucky enough to marry the only woman he’d ever loved.
THE CAR PARK ATTENDANT
IT WOULD NEVER have happened if his uncle Bert hadn’t taken him to the zoo.
Joe Simpson wanted to play football for Manchester United, and when he was selected to captain Barnsford Secondary Modern, he was confident it could only be a matter of time before United’s chief scout would be standing on the touchline demanding to know his name. But by the time Joe walked onto the pitch for the last match of the season, not even the Barnsford Rovers coach had bothered to come and watch him, so with only one GCE (maths), he was at a bit of a loss to know what he was going to do for the rest of his life.
“You could always join Dad as a council car park attendant,” suggested his mum. “At
least the pay’s steady.”
“You must be joking,” said Joe.
It only took a month and seven job interviews for Joe to discover it was the council car park, or stacking shelves at the local supermarket. Joe was just about to sign on the dole and join what his dad called “the great unwashed” when he was offered a job at the Co-op.
Joe lasted ten days as a shelf stacker before he was shown the door, and he had to admit to his mum that perhaps it hadn’t helped when he put two hundred cans of Whiskas next to the prime cuts of beef.
“A vacancy’s come up at Lakeside Drive car park,” his father told him, “and if you want, lad, I could have a word with boss.”
“I’ll do it for a couple of weeks,” said Joe, “while I look for a real job.”
Joe wouldn’t admit to his father that he rather enjoyed being a car park attendant. He was out in the open air, meeting people and chatting to customers while working out how much to charge them once they’d told him how long they wanted to park; something his dad had never got the hang of, but then he hadn’t got an GCE in maths.
Joe quickly got to know several of the regulars, and the cars they drove. His favorite was Mr. Mason, who turned up in a different vehicle every day, which puzzled Joe, until his dad told him he was a second-hand car dealer, and he probably liked to know what he was selling.
“Your dad’s right,” Mr. Mason told him. “But it’s even more important to know what you’re buying. Why don’t you come over to the showroom sometime, and I’ll show you what I mean?”
The next time Joe had a day off, he decided to take up Mr. Mason’s offer and visit the car showroom. It was love at first sight when he saw the Jaguar XK120 in racing green, and second sight when he saw the boss’s bookkeeper in dashing red, but neither was available for a council car park attendant. Not least because Molly Stokes had seven GCEs and had also taken a bookkeeping course at Barnsford Polytechnic.
From that day on, Joe found any excuse to visit Mr. Mason, not to see the latest models, but to talk to the first girl he didn’t think was soppy. Molly finally gave in and agreed to go to the cinema with him to see John Wayne in The Quiet Man, not Molly’s first choice. The following week they went to see Spencer Tracy in Pat and Mike, her choice, and Joe accepted that was how it was going to be for the rest of their lives.
* * *
