Short Story From A Local Author - Two Turtle Doves
Local Author Neal James has kindly provided us with another one of his short stories.
Find out more about Neal on his profile page
Now sit back, relax and enjoy the story :)
“Want another?” Ted nodded at the empty cup in his wife’s hand.
“Please.” Alice smiled as she handed it across to him.
“You warm enough?”
“Oh yes.” She said, pulling the car rug more closely around her and tucking it down inside the wheelchair. “It’s lovely here for the time of year.”
Sitting on the seafront at Skegness had been one of their favourite ways of spending a day out, even when the children had been young. Now that their two were grown up and self-sufficient there was no need to scrimp on refreshments. Ted’s salary, and now his pension, had been more than a match for their comfortable lifestyle, and gone were the days of carrying bags full of provisions around the holiday resort. He got up from the bench at the side of the RNLI shop, eased off the brake on Alice’s wheelchair, and they headed off down to the line of refreshment stalls at the edge of the boating lake.
“Let’s go the whole hog, and have fish and chips as well.” She smiled up at him as he parked her at the side of one of the picnic tables. “Make mine a big one.”
Skegness – a resort to which they had been coming for many years. Ted Marsh and Alice Calladine had first spoken to each other at the Derbyshire Miners’ Holiday Camp on Winthorpe Avenue in 1963. Their fathers had worked at Ormonde Pit, his as a deputy and hers as a shotfirer. It had been normal practice for the ‘Overmen’ to go to Butlin’s on the other side of Roman Bank, but Sid Marsh had always insisted on taking his family on the same holiday as those of the men under him on the same shift. A committed Socialist and Labour Party member, he was a firm believer in ‘sticking with the boys’ as he put it. Ted had been 16, and although he had seen Alice around at home, it had not been until that year that he realised just how pretty she was. Now 14, and without the spots which had made her hide her face, she was fast becoming something of a stunner. She took his breath away.
Ted came back from the refreshment stall with a couple of hefty portions and two large steaming teas. After all these years, Alice still made his heart beat just that little bit faster every single time he clapped eyes on her. She smiled across the table at him and it was all that he could do to keep the tears from his eyes.
The appointment at the Derby Oncology Clinic had told the two of them more than they really wanted to know. The cancer which had reared its head during the summer of 2013 had now advanced, and was progressing more rapidly with each passing week. Taking a holiday at the height of summer, as had been their custom, was no longer an option. Time was fast running out, and the consultant’s opinion was that the disease would take its toll in no more than three months. That had been a fortnight ago, and with decreasing mobility looming, Ted had booked a weekend at the East Coast resort immediately. This was their first of those two days.
“You know, for late November we couldn’t have wished for a better day.” Alice paused between mouthfuls of her Grimsby haddock. “Back here, off the seafront, you could almost believe it was spring.”
Ted smiled again – there was no supressing the woman’s innate skill for making the best of a worsening situation, and for a moment he completely forgot the terrible sickness which was set to devastate their lives.
“We’ve had some grand times here.” He said. “All those years at the camp when the kids were little. What was the name of the Entertainments Manager? Mike, or Mick something.”
“Millington!” She laughed out loud. “My, he was a laugh, and all the children loved him. Remember when our Louise entered that talent competition that they ran each week?”
“Aye.” Ted replied. “She’d been practising that piano piece for weeks, and I told her she was going to win. Nine she was, and when Mick asked her what she was going to play, she said ‘The Dream of Olwyn’, and ‘All Through the Night.”
“And he told her…” Alice frowned slightly, trying to recall the words. She looked up and smiled once more. “He said ‘Well, you can play it all through the night if you want, young lady, but we’ve all got to go by ten o’clock.’ He was a right card.”
“His face soon changed when she hit those first two chords, though.” Ted pushed his shoulders back and a smile of pure pride lit up his face. “You could hear the silence in the whole theatre as she played that piece. Brought the house down when she finished, and there was still another to come.”
The two of them shook their heads at the memory and, over the course of the meal, further stories came back out of the past almost as fresh as the days when they took place. They laughed more over those fish and chips than they had since the first signs of the cancer began to herald the anguish to come. Ted wrapped up the chip trays, cups and forks in the paper and placed them in the rubbish bin as he wheeled his wife towards the town. Time for a piece of cake and another cuppa.
Making their way down Lumley Road, Ted steered the wheelchair along the left fork as the street veered off into what was, in the past, referred to as Chip Alley. The Salvation Army tea rooms was always a favourite haunt and, with Alice safely parked in the far corner, he made his way to the counter. Neither of them had spotted the party of three entering the tea room immediately behind them.
“You spoil me.” Alice laughed as her husband placed the tray on the table – she was lost for words at the size of the cakes. “What about my figure?”
“Get it down you, you daft sod.” He smiled. “What does it matter now?”
They ate in almost reverential silence as the cakes slowly disappeared to be followed by a pot of strong tea. Conversation naturally returned to reminiscences about holidays, the camp, and the children, and neither Ted nor Alice had been aware of the interest which it had aroused from a nearby table. A young woman leaned across and tapped Ted’s arm.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I just couldn’t help overhearing you talking about the camp.” She smiled, and the two of them automatically smiled back. “Would that have been the miners’ camp on Winthorpe Avenue?”
“Yes.” Said Alice. “It’s where Ted and I met properly for the first time.”
“I’m Michelle Pattinson.” She held out her hand. “This hunk is my husband and the little terror is Emma. My mum was Val Bowmer; she was head of housekeeping and I practically grew up at the place.”
With mutual interest now stirred, Michelle and her family pulled their chairs around the same table as conversation began in a more earnest manner about the history of the holiday camp, its staff, and the final demise in the early 1990s. As the daylight began to close in, clearing up operations commenced, and the group made its way to the door.
“How long are you here for?” Michelle asked, as they fastened their coats against the rapidly falling outside temperature.
“Just the weekend.” Alice said. “Ted and I have a hospital appointment on Monday afternoon.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.” Michelle’s face fell in horror as they told her of the reason for the visit, but Ted’s reassuring smile as he finished the story restored some of her composure.
At Michelle and Ian’s insistence, they agreed to meet up the following day before Ted and Alice made their way home to Derbyshire, and with darkness now wrapping it’s chilly cloak around the resort, both groups made their respective ways back to their lodgings.
Sunday brought bright, but chilly, weather and a weak, low sun shot dazzling ripples across the waves as the tide swept across the flat sands. With Alice wrapped up warmly against the stiff east coast wind, Ted pulled up the collar of his coat and pushed her along North Parade towards the pier, and some respite from a now biting wind. Inside the relative calm of the amusement arcade, he was unable to resist the lure of the slot machines; Alice shook her head in resignation as she recalled her inability, in years gone by, to pull him away from the things. She was saved from any attempt by the approach of the young couple from yesterday, accompanied by an indignant Emma who was desperately trying to pry twopence coins from the hand of her teasing father, Ian.
“Mummeee!” She bellowed. “He’s being horrid again!”
Ian released his grip on the treasure, acutely aware, as all fathers are, of the consequences of aggravating young children in the presence of their mothers.
“Here.” He said. “Go and show Ted how it’s done, and I’ll stand and laugh when they’re all gone.”
He was right, of course, and once the small fortune had been surrendered, all five of them braved the elements on the open end of the pier. Conversation inevitably returned to the subject of the camp, and no mention was made of Michelle’s earlier reference to matters of health. Their stay out in the cold did not last long, and with a Skegness reputation for ‘bracing’ weather well-recognised by all, a strategic retreat was made towards the nearest open café.
Half way down Lumley Road, something in one of the shops caught Alice’s eye, and Ted pulled the chair close to the window and pulled on the brake. The deep, guttural, sound of a car engine at high revs had heads turning on both sides of the street. What made Ted glance in the opposite direction was anyone’s guess, but the toddler in the centre of the road in pursuit of a runaway ball had him heading away from the shop window and out into the path of the speeding vehicle.
Alice turned and stared in horror at the sight of her husband, stretching out to reach the child, now frozen to the spot in fear. Ted reached out and swept the youngster out of the path of the car, but not in time to prevent a bone-shattering collision as the driver was unable to pull away. Amid a cacophony of shouting and screaming, he was catapulted head over heels across the opposite pavement and through a plate glass window. The momentary silence was deafening before those pedestrians out in the cold weather raced to the spot. It was too late, even to the untrained eye, and when paramedics arrived at the scene he was declared dead.
Alice Marsh sat alone in the July sunshine in the gardens of the former Miners’ Convalescent Home on Winthorpe Avenue. Eight months had passed since the fateful day when Ted had performed his heroic act in saving a small child from certain death. Eight months of tears and sadness. Even though he had only three months to live back in November, she had been denied even that short space of time by the tragic events of that day. They had taken the trip simply because he would not have been able to make the journey had they waited any longer. Her broken ankle, caused by a fall at home seven days prior to the weekend had almost kept them away – she had cursed herself many, many times in the intervening period for allowing him to persuade her to come to the coast. Too late for regrets now, though, as his cancer had been very aggressive and the pain each day was already increasing.
She looked up into a clear blue sky and smiled through the tears which were beginning to fall, cascading down her cheeks in tiny rivulets. She picked up the urn at the side of her, as the sound of footsteps stirred her from the trance into which she had slipped.
“All ready, then?” Michelle smiled, sadly.
“Are you sure this is alright?” Alice asked, looking over her young friend’s shoulder into the gardens which lay in splendour before the main entrance of the former convalescent home.
“Of course.” She replied. “Cleared at the highest level. “My mum’s ashes are just over there.” She pointed to a spot across the grassed area.
“Ted’s dad spent some time in there.” She nodded at the imposing building. “Slipped a disc down Ormonde Pit in the early sixties. Never went back on the face after that.”
“Come on.” Michelle said, putting a comforting arm around Alice’s shoulder. “There’s a nice quiet corner for him over here.”
In the shade of a rhododendron bush, a square hole had been carefully excavated, and Alice carefully placed the urn containing the ashes of her beloved Ted into it. Standing up and staring briefly out into the North Sea, she dug her hand deep into her skirt pocket, and came up with two white porcelain figures.
“What have you got there, Alice?” Michelle asked.
“Ted bought them for us in Spalls back in the seventies.” She opened her hand and Michelle gasped in surprise. “Two turtle doves, Michelle. He gave one to me and kept the other himself; said we should always keep them as memories of happy times. I’m going to give his back to him now – he wouldn’t want to be without it.”
Placing the pure white pottery bird carefully at the side of the urn, she turned to walk away as the gardener began the task of filling in the hole. There were no words to say – Ted would know.
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