Ben Garrison was occupying his normal window seat in the Grapes. After over forty years of nightly occupation, weather and health permitting, the locals called it Ben’s seat and woe betide any passing trade that decided to sit there. His pint was in front of him on the table and he was holding court with three of his pensioner cronies. With Granton village fete only weeks away there was only one subject worthy of their breath, namely the produce show.
Ben had a lot to say on the subject. “I’m not convinced about the judges. David Kent has won the cup for the last five years and I’m not convinced he always has the best group of vegetables. My entry looked every bit as good as his last year and so did yours Archie. I’m beginning to think that if his stuff looks OK they just award him the cup based on what he’s done before.”
There were nods of agreement around the table but before he could continue they were joined by two young men.
“Evening Grandad. We’ve put a pint behind the bar for you and the lads.”
“That’s nice of you Gary, and you Kenny. You all know my grandsons don’t you lads.” The nods and smiles confirmed that they did. Both twenty year olds were regulars in the pub and in their school days had been on the way to becoming infamous as the cause of every prank in the village. Both were now working and had quietened down to everybody’s benefit.
“It looked as though it was a very serious conversation Grandad. Is everything OK? Kenny was smiling as he asked.
Ben nodded. “It was serious. We’re not convinced we’re getting a fair crack of the whip in the produce judging at the fete. David Kent’s winning it too easily every time.”
The lads held up their hands in surrender and Gary spoke for both of them. “Not quite our scene Grandad, we’ll leave you to it.

The lads waved as the pensioners left en masse, shaking their heads as the door closed behind them.
“You wouldn’t believe they could get so worked up over a few vegetables would you,” said Gary with a smile.
Kenny shrugged. “I suppose it’s all they have to think about. Mind you, it would be nice if the old fella could lift the cup.” He looked thoughtful. “Could we give him a hand maybe?”
“You could write what I know about gardening on the head of a pin.” Gary was being honest.
“Me too but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“You’re not suggesting we damage Kent’s stuff are you?”
“Of course not.” Kenny sounded indignant. “But we go past the allotments on our way home and we’ve had four pints. We could do a bit of watering as we go past.”
Gary started to giggle and after another drink or two the idea was too good to ignore. As a result, David Kent’s onions and a few of his beans received a midnight watering.

The man in question visited his allotment every day and the footprints around his onions were instantly obvious to him. He’d had a visitor or two since yesterday but they hadn’t done any damage though there seemed to be a slight odour that he couldn’t place. He watered the ground well and raked out the footsteps, deciding to walk round early the next day to check his beds again.

Kent knew in seconds that his visitors had been back. The footprints proved it but once again there was no damage, just a faintly hoppy smell. It needed investigation and he knew exactly how to do it. Whoever it was they weren’t causing any harm. All the veg looked in great order so all he needed to know was who it was and what they were doing. His other hobby provided the solution. What he didn’t know about photography didn’t matter and setting up a camera in his shed, loaded with infra red film and a movement sensor to trigger it was the work of a couple of hours.

As he developed the prints, David Kent began to laugh. He recognised the lads and assumed he knew their motivations. He doubted Grandad had any clue as to what they had been doing and that made it even funnier. He’d been brought up in the country, in a cottage without flush toilets, and one of his jobs had been to help his father empty the privy bucket onto the garden. It hadn’t done their vegetables any harm and he doubted that the three pints a night that the lads were contributing would do other than help during a dry summer. It did remind him to wash his entry very carefully if only for the sake of the judges.

It was a lovely day and Granton turned out in force for the fete. The produce section was always popular and as he received the cup, David Kent got a well earned round of applause. It wasn’t his only prize of the day. The one that gave him the greatest pleasure was in the photographic section. It was for his darkly lit picture that left much to the imagination but not everything. It was entitled “IV’E GROWN BIGGER RADISHES.

© John Morris 2006

“Don’t you have any idea who it is mum?”
Sally’s mother shook her head. “Not a clue. I’ve never even seen the locket
before. It’s not Granddad. Your Gran didn’t wear it and she never showed it to
me. It’s a wonder we’ve found it if you think about it. I don’t think this drawer has
been opened in years.”
It was a sad time for the family. Gran Rawlins had passed away at the good
age of eighty one, leaving the cottage where she’d spent the majority of her life
exactly as it had been before her sudden death. It looked as though she would
walk back in at any minute. Rachel, her only daughter and mother to twenty year
old Sally, had the job of clearing the house since both her older brothers lived in
Australia. It was an unenviable task as every drawer and cupboard were chock
full of memories but now, in addition, a mystery.
The good looking dark haired young man who stared at them from the locket
was a complete stranger. His unsmiling face was typical of a long forgotten time
when photographs demanded stillness and formality, his uniform confirming that
he was a soldier. But even without a smile he was very handsome.
They’d found the silver locket in the bottom drawer of an old chest in Gran’s
spare bedroom. It was under a pile of towels and sheets and sealed in an
envelope. The weight of the linen had pressed the outline of the locket into the
paper or they probably wouldn’t have found it.
“Would anybody mind if I kept the locket mum?” Sally and her grandmother
had been close friends in spite of their age difference. Rachel smiled as
she recalled the numerous times a young Sally had used homilies that could only
have come from one source. Gran had been a great storyteller and the family
felt sure that she was the reason why Sally was now studying journalism. It was
a shame she wouldn’t see her graduate.
“Of course you can. Gran would have wanted you to have a keepsake and
your uncles won’t mind. I’ve got a chain at home that would fit if you want to
wear it.”
Sally smiled. “I’d like that mum. I shall really miss my times with Gran.”
“I know you will love. We all will. Anyway, we’d best get on. There’s a lot
more to do before we’re finished and you have to go back to university in a
couple of days.”

“Why do you keep stroking that locket Sally?”
Sally pulled her hand away almost guiltily as her friend Mandy posed the
question. They were having a cup of tea at the bus station, killing time before
their coaches were due and the summer holiday began in earnest. It was an
unconscious habit she’d developed since she’d been wearing the locket. She
laughed and pulled a face at her friend. “It’s just a habit Mandy. It must be Gran
reminding me of something.”
It was her friends turn to smile. “The sooner you get her message the better.
You’ll wear it out if you keep on rubbing it.”

Mandy’s words stayed in her mind and back home in her bedroom that night
she took off the locket, opened it and studied the young man inside. He was very
attractive and there had to be a story behind the picture. Not sure why, she
decided to remove it. It wasn’t easy because she didn’t want to damage it in any
way. It took her ages, but eventually, using her nail scissors, she managed to lift
it carefully out. It was worth every minute it had taken because there was a story
behind the picture.
The faint message on the back of the photograph was just readable. With all
my love was clear as was the signature, Richard. So now the young man had a
name. More revealing was the flimsy, carefully folded paper behind the photograph. It was very dry and the creases virtually permanent. Sally was
terrified it would disintegrate as she slowly opened it. Eventually she could read
it.
My darling Eleanor,
Ian is my sergeant and my right hand man in the company.
I hope he manages to pass on this small token of my
love whilst he’s back in England. We’re moving out shortly
and I’m not sure when I’ll be in touch again. You’re always
in my thoughts.
My love for ever,
Richard

Tears pricked Sally’s eyes as she read and re-read the note. A part of the
mystery was solved but now there was a bigger one. Her Gran was called
Eleanor and her Granddad’s name had been Ian. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew the rest of the story behind the locket.

“Where did you put that old trunk that Granddad’s uniform and papers were
stored in mum?”
Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “What in the world do you want that for?”
Sally wasn’t ready to tell her mum about the letter and had prepared herself for
the question.
“I think it’s because of clearing Gran’s bits and pieces at Easter. Granddad
died years ago and I feel as though I would like to remind myself of the pair of
them.”
“That’s a nice thought love. It’s in the loft and been there since he died.
It’s probably thick with dust but easy enough to reach if you just pull down the loft
ladder.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem mum.” Sally was already heading for the stairs.
The trapdoor and loft ladder were easy but her mum hadn’t been joking about
the dust. She lost track of the number of times she sneezed before she finally
opened the old trunk.
Her Granddad’s uniform topped the pile in the trunk and the three stripes on
the tunic clearly meant something. Underneath there were piles of papers and
photographs which Sally lifted out and spread on her bed and the floor. She was
beginning to read them when her Mum poked her head round the door.
“I can see you got it down alright. Is it interesting?”
“I’ve only just started to look at the papers Mum. What do these stripes mean
on his tunic?”
“He was a sergeant love. They’re the backbone of the British army if he was to
be believed. He was very proud of his rank and a credit to the uniform if his
friend’s comments meant anything.”
Sally’s ears pricked up. “Did you know some of his friends Mum?”
“I used to Sally. I drove him to several reunions years ago and he insisted on
introducing me to his mates. I’m not sure any of them will be left by now. It
was a long time ago. Dinner will be about an hour. I’ll leave you to it.”
Unknowingly her Mum had supplied another piece of the jigsaw. Granddad
had been a sergeant. Sally’s mind was racing. Was it too much to be
coincidental?
The trunk contained a detailed summary of Granddad’s ten years in the army,
from joining as an eighteen year old to his honourable discharge a year after the
Second World War ended. But it was the photographs that really caught Sally’s
attention. Her Granddad had been meticulous and every picture had a date and
location written neatly on the back. After sifting through the collection Sally had
three photographs set aside.
The first one showed a posed group of soldiers with an officer taking centre
stage. It was definitely Richard and at his right hand, exactly as described in the
flimsy letter, was Granddad. The date on the back said February 1940. The next
one showed a young Gran adorned in her best clothes and with a smile to match.
Her name was written on the back next to a date of April 1942. The last picture
was posed outside a church and Sally had seen the full sized one many times. It
was her grandparents wedding picture and this one was dated January 1944.
The chronology was a story in itself but there had to be more.
Sally was tempted to enlist her mother’s help but as she absentmindedly
rubbed the locket she knew deep down that the outcome of the search belonged
to her and Gran. The trunk had given her another lead, namely Granddad’s pay
book, and in five minutes on the web she had a telephone number for the
Staffordshire Regiment named on the book. It was remarkably easy after that.
One telephone call led to another and eventually to the curator of the regimental
museum. That was where Granddads name acted as an open Sesame.
“That’s amazing. My old man served with Ian Rawlins.” Ex-RSM Ben
Cavendish was only too pleased to talk to her and more importantly to search for
more pieces to the jigsaw. It took a few days but when he ‘phoned her back the
facts he added were fascinating.
Captain Richard Barnett had been posted as missing in action in Belgium in
1941 and due to memory loss had remained missing until he was repatriated at
the end of the war. After another year in various hospitals he’d returned to his
family home in Walsgrave, near Northampton, where he lived for the remainder
of his life. He was buried in the churchyard there.

Sally couldn’t leave it at that and two weeks later she found herself standing in
front of an attractive old church with a square Norman tower. It was surrounded
by mature oaks and as she followed the gravelled path around the church, Gran
was firmly in her mind. The bunch of white lilies in her hand were Gran’s
favourites and she was about to do what she was sure her Grandmother was
trying to tell her to do.
The cemetery behind the church was fairly small and immaculately kept. It
took her a few minutes to find the stone she was seeking and she stood quietly
reading the inscription before stepping forward to lay the flowers. In her mind
she was talking to Gran and hoped somehow that the old lady knew what she
was doing. The quiet words, spoken from behind startled her. They were
followed by an apology.
“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just saying thank you
for the flowers.” The tall smartly dressed man was smiling as he spoke. “My
father would be thrilled. Lilies were his favourite. It’s just that I don’t think I know
you so the flowers are quite a surprise.”
Sally was getting over her shock but wasn’t sure what to say. Then it seemed
obvious.
“It’s a long story but in essence my Grandmother was close to Richard during
the war and she died recently. I just felt she’d like me to leave him some flowers
for old time’s sake.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Was your Grandmother called Eleanor by any
chance?”
Sally, shocked by the question, could only nod.
“In that case I’m delighted to meet you. I’m John Barnett and if you have the
time I’d love to talk to you. We live just down the road and you’d be very
welcome to have a cup of tea with my wife and I whilst we talk.”
Sally nodded again. “I have a little time but I must get back to Northampton in
time for my coach.”
Barnett smiled. “I’ll make sure you don’t miss your coach. Let’s go and get
that tea.”
It only took a few minutes to walk down to the double fronted Victorian house
set back from the road. John Barnett opened the door to let Sally in and followed
her into the hall calling to his wife as he did.
“We’ve got a visitor you’ll be delighted to meet Maggie.?”
He ushered Sally into a comfortably furnished sitting room where they were
quickly joined by his wife, the question on her face obvious when she saw their
guest. Her husband was smiling as he introduced Sally.
“Maggie, meet Sally.” He paused. “She’s Eleanor’s granddaughter.”
It took a second to register and then his wife put her hand to her mouth.
“Good heavens.” She apologised instantly. “Please excuse me Sally. It’s such
a surprise. Eleanor has been a part of our lives for so long.”
It was Sally’s turn to register surprise. “I don’t understand.”
John took charge. “Let’s get a cup of tea and then talk. I think we have a lot
to share.
A few minutes later they were settled in big armchairs with cups of tea to
hand. “Shall I start?” John was smiling and it suited Sally who simply nodded.
Well, it’s a long story but I’ll give you the short version. When dad came back
from the war he spent a long time in hospital and his memory came back a bit at
a time. That said he never regained it completely. There were gaps and he was
constantly asking for Eleanor during the first few months. The nurse who looked
after him eventually became his wife and my mother. It was obvious that Eleanor
had been important in his life and Mum was always interested in who she was.
We all grew up wondering but he could never give us the whole picture. It was
lost in the war so to speak.”
Maggie stood up. “Give me a minute.” So saying she left the room and Sally
could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs. She was back in a few minutes with
something in her hand. “When Dad died and we cleared out his house we found
an old kitbag in the loft with his army uniform inside. It must have been sent back
to his parents when he was reported missing. We don’t think they ever opened
it. Since we were having a clear out we went through it and we found this
wrapped in his dress shirts.” She was holding out a box.
Sally took it, not sure what to say.
“Have a look inside Sally.”
She opened it carefully to reveal a beautiful diamond solitaire ring. There were
tears in her eyes when she looked up again. She knew who it had been bought
for.
John Barnett was first to speak. “We’ve been calling it Eleanor’s ring ever
since we found it. It has to be more than chance that we’ve met you. I
can’t help thinking it was meant to be.” He glanced at his wife who nodded to his
unspoken question. “We’d like you to have the ring Sally. I’m sure it’s what Dad
would have wanted.”
“I couldn’t take it. You should keep it. It’s been in your family for a long time.
Let me tell you how I came to be here.”
It only took a few minutes to tell the story of the locket and to show them the
picture. They all sat quietly when Sally finished, wrapped up in their own
thoughts until Sally looked at her watch. “I’ll have to be going to catch my bus.”
She was standing as she spoke, noticing the picture on the window sill as she
did. It was the same handsome dark haired officer she’d looked at so often.
She pointed. “That’s the picture of your father that’s in my locket?”
They both laughed and it was Maggie who spoke. “Not quite Sally. His
name is Richard though and they do look like twins, but he’s our son. He’s just
completed his officer training. Talk of the devil,” was said as they heard the
outside door open and a shouted hello. Sally could only stare at the young man
who walked into the sitting room. To her eyes, he was the man in her and Gran’s
locket.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” He smiled and Sally’s heart
skipped a beat.
“I’m sorry. You look so much like your Granddad that it’s uncanny.”
His look of surprise disappeared as they told him the story. He was
shaking his head when they finished. “They say that truth is stranger than fiction.
What’s marvellous is that Richard and Eleanor both had wonderful lives after the
war. Even better, we’ve all become privy to their tale and met each other. I can’t
help thinking they’d both be pleased about it.”
Everybody was nodding and Sally suddenly remembered her bus. “I shall
have to fly. I must make sure I don’t miss the last bus.”
John looked at his watch. “We are cutting it a bit fine.”
It was then that Richard took a hand. “Where do you live Sally?”
“Solihull, if you know it.”
“Yes, I’ve played rugby there. No problem then. Why don’t you stay and have
tea with us and I’ll run you back.”
“I couldn’t impose on you.” Even as she said the words, Sally knew she didn’t
mean them.
“Yes you can. I insist.”
And that was what they did.

The drive was long enough to give Sally and Richard the chance to get to
know each other better and they were friends by the time they got back to Sally’s
home. Unsurprisingly, her parents were delighted to meet Richard and moved by
the story that unfolded.
It was late when Sally walked out to the car with Richard. Neither knew
quite how to say goodbye. They felt they knew each other too well for a
handshake and settled for a peck on the cheek. Sally knew there was something
else she had to do before he left and took the ring box out of her pocket where
Richard’s mother had placed it.
“Please give this back to your mother Richard. I’d be much happier if she kept
it.”
After a hesitation he took the box and went to get into the car. He paused
before he did and turned back. “Can I see you again Sally?”
“I’d like that.” She could barely get the words out quickly enough.
Richard smiled and the kiss that followed carried a promise for their future.
“If I bring the ring every time I come to see you, will you eventually keep it?”
Sally’s heart leapt. She’d finally got Gran’s message.

THE LOCKET by John Morris © 2006