A TRUE STORY - LOST IN TIME 

By Tessa Harvey

    The years passed and the boy grew. At first he played only with Maureen and Mary, the little girls from next door. Mrs. Keefe always welcomed him warmly and he was sometimes allowed to stay over after school until nearly bedtime. 

    Gradually Jim made friends with other boys and they would kick balls around the long street. If there was trouble, Jim looked so young he was never thought to be a willing participant. Years later, he would laugh about that with his own daughter.

    As a teen, he would go out with his mates. Now he towered over his small mother, but he always respected his parents. His mum would call after him as he went to the pictures or to dances: "Be good! Have a nice time!" Naughtily, he would yell back "Make up your mind," and laugh as the lace curtains twitched up and down the street, their owners watching, listening, smiling or frowning. And away he would whistle.

    The years came with war. The little granddaughter hopped up the steps just as her father had done. Her brother followed her.

    One night there was a terrible storm. The thunder was like explosions, the lightning arched broken across the black sky in jagged, blinding flashes. Grandad took the children out to the top step to watch. Even as an old lady, the child would remember that storm as the worst she had ever seen. They were stiff with fear and relieved when lashing rain washed them into the front room. The house amazed the children. There was a large glass-fronted cabinet right next to the front door. Grandad had war medals just for being places like the Somme in World War 2, he said. He tried to tell them about war.

    There were many tack marks around the street window, so tall and narrow, where the blackout curtains were fastened at night. In a drawer near the fireplace there was even red sealing wax used to fasten letters long ago!