Free Haunt Dead Wrong by Curtis Jobling

of love shifting to sadness. ‘Josh was a good man. Too good for me.’
    ‘Too good? Why would you say that?’
    ‘Because I couldn’t give him what he really deserved.’
    ‘You were married, weren’t you?’
    She stifled a tear, her smile slack as she looked across the room. We followed her gaze to a faded photo above the fireplace. I stepped over to better see it; the American and his bride a vision
in sepia, stood in front of the very recognisable St Mary’s church.
    ‘We were husband and wife for fifty-two years. Can you believe that?’
    ‘Why you would say Mr Hershey was too good for you?’ repeated Dougie, where he knelt beside her chair.
    ‘He deserved better,’ said Ruby with a peg-toothed smile. ‘I gave him fifty-two years as his faithful wife. I gave him two children. They gave us grandchildren and more. And
they’re all gone now, too. My son lives in Australia, while my daughter moved to London thirty years ago. And Josh is gone, God bless him. Gone, but not forgotten. He was a good man. But I
could never truly give him my love.’
    ‘Why’s that?’ asked Dougie, though we knew the answer.
    ‘My heart belonged to another,’ Ruby whispered.
    ‘So,’ said Dougie, inching inexorably toward the tricky subject, ‘what happened? The one you loved – why didn’t you marry him?’
    ‘The base took a lucky hit, or an unlucky one as the case might be,’ she said bitterly. ‘A Luftwaffe bomber on its way home from a blitz over Liverpool. They reckoned it was
ditching its payload, dropping whatever it hadn’t unloaded over us. A dozen died in all. One chap held on until they got him to the hospital . . .’
    ‘That’s how he died,’ I whispered. To see this woman sat before us, clearly still hurting after all these apparently
loveless
years was heartbreaking. ‘We should
go,’ I said, and Dougie nodded in agreement.
    ‘Mrs Hershey,’ my friend said. ‘Thank you for letting me speak with you today, I really do appreciate it. Would you mind awfully if I returned? There’s a few things
I’d like to investigate further. Your story’s fascinating.’
    The nurse stepped through the door into the back room, as Dougie deftly hid the dictaphone back in his pocket.
    ‘Aw,’ she said. ‘What a lovely surprise, such a smashing kid coming round to see you, eh? You’ve got a cracking great-grandchild there! You should be very
proud.’
    ‘I am,’ said Ruby, untucking a handkerchief from her cardigan sleeve and drying her eyes. ‘I’m very lucky.’
    ‘Sorry if I upset you,’ said Dougie.
    ‘Don’t mind me, lovely,’ sniffed Ruby. ‘These are happy tears. You’ve made an old lady very happy today. It’s nice to reminisce. Nobody asks to hear these
stories any more. I don’t get many visitors, as you might imagine.’
    Dougie rose and said his goodbyes, keeping the charade going with the district nurse until we were out of the bungalow and earshot. Each of us was numb. We walked along the road in silence for a
while, lost in our own thoughts. I finally broke the deadlock.
    ‘What do we do? Do we tell the Major that she’s loved him all this time?’
    ‘I honestly can’t say. It seems that’s what we’re supposed to do. But how can telling a friend something so cruel be the right thing?’
    I couldn’t answer his question. Who could? The sun was shining high overhead, the summer sky blue and unspoiled, but dark clouds gathered in our minds.

TWELVE
Pride and Joy
    It’s fair to say that Dougie and I had been on an emotional rollercoaster of late. Our friendship had experienced its ups and downs, falling apart in the face of
accusation and anger. Slowly it was recovering, our trust gradually returning as we faced adversity side by side. Other friendships would have fallen to the wayside, but not Dougie and I. That
said, I still wasn’t going to hang around in the bathroom while he showered. We were friends, but there were limits.
    I waited on the landing as Dougie