The Story Part 4
Another 28 days of H365 and this time I felt no compulsion to go to find the 365 group. Strangely I felt incredibly confident that wherever I was the next 28 tasks would arrive in time for the next session. So on the day when I normally would have been twitching to get away to the coast I started work early and at midmorning started out to my coffee shop to have a late breakfast. As I turned towards the street in which it was I changed my mind and decided I would go back to the coffee shop I had forsaken all those weeks ago resulting in my meeting Tom Botteril. I felt that a change was as good as a rest.
As I approached the old favourite I saw that they’d had a bit of a makeover it was freshly painted and had changed its name from Coffee on the Run to The Traveller. As I entered I saw that they had changed everything including the tables, chairs and colour scheme which was bright and cheerful. As I turned to find a seat I stopped suddenly as I saw a familiar face.
“Hello!” I exclaimed, “What a coincidence.” The beautiful young girl who I had first seen curled up in the armchair by the fire in the hotel with the 365 group was sitting in my coffee shop. Then I laughed as I realised that a coincidence this certainly wasn’t but she didn’t smile she looked up with tears in her eyes. I remember I looked away because I couldn’t cope with the wave of emotion that flooded over me. I looked at her cup on the table in front of her, it had a tea bag label dangling over the lip the name was immediately familiar to me. As children we used to drive past the tea factory on the way to the hospital and my father would cry out cheerily ‘Breathe in, smell the Orient!!’ Anything to lighten the heavy gloom.
All that changed after Lucy died, all that changed.
“Oh I’m so glad you came I’ve got some bad news, I’m sorry.” Her voice broke with tears, I looked back at her face and sat down immediately filled with concern she was usually so light and happy it was a shock to see her like this.
“What on earth..?” I started to say.
“It’s Bernard, he’s dead.”
Bernard…dead. Bernard couldn’t be dead he was so full of life so full of hopes and dreams and goals. Bernard was going to live the most wonderful life imaginable.
“What on earth happened? How? I can’t believe it…” I started.
She interrupted me, “He was coming back to London from the coast, a truck swerved over the carriageway he was in his beloved Ferrari he hadn’t a chance.”
I remembered the news item.
“That was him? I’m so sorry had you known him long?”
“Forever. He was my brother.”
I stopped and looked at her suddenly I had had no idea, how little I knew of these people.
I looked back at the tea label. How strange that I should have Lucy’s death in my mind at that moment.
The waitress came over and I ordered coffee, black and strong.
“I’m so sorry but strangely I do know what you’re going through.” I reached across the table offering my hand but she did not take it, I pulled it back lamely.
“I know,” she replied,” that’s why I came to meet you.” She paused, “Does it get any better?”
I looked at her, 15 years since Lucy. How did she know? It didn’t seem right to ask her just then.
“It changes, you think of them less but when the memories come it isn’t any less painful. My sister Lucy was 17 she took six months to die of leukaemia not like Bernard I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, to be prepared or not. There’s no easy way of suddenly being without them.”
I paused. Here was I helping her, one of the 365 group, the complete, the all wise, I was giving back. I felt an enormous relief, I could help her because I’d passed this way before. I knew the pain of the death of a sibling I could understand her pain.
“I’m not sure if knowing it’s going to happen or it just happening makes it any better but I know that every day I am grateful that I knew her, Bernard was an inspiration to us all. Let’s not waste his life let’s rejoice in having known him”
She looked up at me and smiled wanly “You are one of us then, I’m so glad.”
What a strange comment I thought. She got up and gathered her coat and bag.
“Thank you, you’ve helped me a lot. I’ll see you again soon,” she said and left. I had stood up and as I returned to my seat I pushed to one side the old dogeared paperback book I had brought out with me. A brown envelope was marking my place, I didn’t remember putting that in there. I opened it at the page where the envelope had been put, on it was the last paragraph of a piece by a traveller called Bernard Murray.
Having been kidnapped by rebels in the Middle East he summed up his reaction to being released:
“It was not my captors who created my prison, I did that myself. We are our own jailors allowing ourselves to be trapped within our past experiences and not opening the door to release ourselves to the future. I was lucky to survive my captivity but if I hadn’t then it just would have been my time – I cannot dwell on what might have been, I survived to live now not in the past.”
I opened the brown envelope inside were the next 28 tasks.
As I approached the old favourite I saw that they’d had a bit of a makeover it was freshly painted and had changed its name from Coffee on the Run to The Traveller. As I entered I saw that they had changed everything including the tables, chairs and colour scheme which was bright and cheerful. As I turned to find a seat I stopped suddenly as I saw a familiar face.
“Hello!” I exclaimed, “What a coincidence.” The beautiful young girl who I had first seen curled up in the armchair by the fire in the hotel with the 365 group was sitting in my coffee shop. Then I laughed as I realised that a coincidence this certainly wasn’t but she didn’t smile she looked up with tears in her eyes. I remember I looked away because I couldn’t cope with the wave of emotion that flooded over me. I looked at her cup on the table in front of her, it had a tea bag label dangling over the lip the name was immediately familiar to me. As children we used to drive past the tea factory on the way to the hospital and my father would cry out cheerily ‘Breathe in, smell the Orient!!’ Anything to lighten the heavy gloom.
All that changed after Lucy died, all that changed.
“Oh I’m so glad you came I’ve got some bad news, I’m sorry.” Her voice broke with tears, I looked back at her face and sat down immediately filled with concern she was usually so light and happy it was a shock to see her like this.
“What on earth..?” I started to say.
“It’s Bernard, he’s dead.”
Bernard…dead. Bernard couldn’t be dead he was so full of life so full of hopes and dreams and goals. Bernard was going to live the most wonderful life imaginable.
“What on earth happened? How? I can’t believe it…” I started.
She interrupted me, “He was coming back to London from the coast, a truck swerved over the carriageway he was in his beloved Ferrari he hadn’t a chance.”
I remembered the news item.
“That was him? I’m so sorry had you known him long?”
“Forever. He was my brother.”
I stopped and looked at her suddenly I had had no idea, how little I knew of these people.
I looked back at the tea label. How strange that I should have Lucy’s death in my mind at that moment.
The waitress came over and I ordered coffee, black and strong.
“I’m so sorry but strangely I do know what you’re going through.” I reached across the table offering my hand but she did not take it, I pulled it back lamely.
“I know,” she replied,” that’s why I came to meet you.” She paused, “Does it get any better?”
I looked at her, 15 years since Lucy. How did she know? It didn’t seem right to ask her just then.
“It changes, you think of them less but when the memories come it isn’t any less painful. My sister Lucy was 17 she took six months to die of leukaemia not like Bernard I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, to be prepared or not. There’s no easy way of suddenly being without them.”
I paused. Here was I helping her, one of the 365 group, the complete, the all wise, I was giving back. I felt an enormous relief, I could help her because I’d passed this way before. I knew the pain of the death of a sibling I could understand her pain.
“I’m not sure if knowing it’s going to happen or it just happening makes it any better but I know that every day I am grateful that I knew her, Bernard was an inspiration to us all. Let’s not waste his life let’s rejoice in having known him”
She looked up at me and smiled wanly “You are one of us then, I’m so glad.”
What a strange comment I thought. She got up and gathered her coat and bag.
“Thank you, you’ve helped me a lot. I’ll see you again soon,” she said and left. I had stood up and as I returned to my seat I pushed to one side the old dogeared paperback book I had brought out with me. A brown envelope was marking my place, I didn’t remember putting that in there. I opened it at the page where the envelope had been put, on it was the last paragraph of a piece by a traveller called Bernard Murray.
Having been kidnapped by rebels in the Middle East he summed up his reaction to being released:
“It was not my captors who created my prison, I did that myself. We are our own jailors allowing ourselves to be trapped within our past experiences and not opening the door to release ourselves to the future. I was lucky to survive my captivity but if I hadn’t then it just would have been my time – I cannot dwell on what might have been, I survived to live now not in the past.”
I opened the brown envelope inside were the next 28 tasks.
