Path: news.nzbot.com!spool1.sonic-news.com!news-out.sonic-news.com!not.news-service.com!not.alt.net!not.highwinds-media.com!t4!artnm!t3!feeder.news-service.com!news.astraweb.com!border5.a.newsrouter.astraweb.com!not-for-mail
From: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.prettyboy
Subject: The Old Toffee Tin, Chapter 10
Date: Mon, 20 Dec 2010 10:04:58 -0700
Message-ID: <913vg6dg8sgq7pijqli5ijtkkvks3i9cqe@4ax.com>
X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 4.2/32.1118
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Lines: 111
Organization: Unlimited download news at news.astraweb.com
NNTP-Posting-Host: 35af3f9a.news.astraweb.com
X-Trace: DXC=?HlLOPcZbGf=3UWcM[dT7dL?0kYOcDh@jHOa\hSP`mDfSF8_SUETGcoYQf14IcFVEaJ4nI_kcnSga0l5SM4jc\]aOG6]^WbI:Sg36IOac:VKRh
Xref: news.nzbot.com alt.fan.prettyboy:13956
Chapter 10
A Benediction
"Herman!" Mrs. Whitby shouted from her large green loveseat set in the
parlour, where she had been napping in front of the garden window.
"There's someone knocking at the door. Could you get it?"
She closed the old photo album in her lap and removed her reading
glasses so she could peer across the darkened parlour to the foyer.
The garishly overlarge loveseat very nearly swallowed the little
woman, so she had to stretch her neck a bit to see.
"Herman!" she yelled, clutching the album to her breast. "Somebody's
at the door!"
Presently Herman's feet came thumping down the stairs.
"Yes, yes. I'm coming. Don' see why you can't get up and open it
"Well, I don't want to see anyone this morning," Agnes replied,
gazing out the window. "I'm in a mood today."
Agnes heard Herman open the door. He greeted someone, and the old
woman perceived a muddled discussion between her husband and a woman.
After a moment, there seemed to be some consternation. The tone of
the discussion had taken an emotional turn, and she could have sworn
she heard her husband utter the words, "Oh, my dear boy."
So naturally Mrs. Whitby turned from the window and scooted herself
around to peek over the back of her arm chair to see what was afoot.
She was startled to see Herman standing right next to her, clearly
upset. He was wearily stooped over, and behind his glasses, his eyes
were moist and rimmed in red. And his voice, usually so booming and
self-assured, quavered a bit when he finally spoke.
And he nodded back towards the door, where Angela stood, her hands
resting lightly on her little boy Nigel's shoulders.
Agnes Whitby was confused as to what it all meant, but when Herman
held up the ancient toffee tin, her mind stripped away the corrosion
of years and she saw it for what it was, and as it had been that day
at Hyde Park; new and shiny and gaily painted, and in Tommy's hands
once more. And once more her little boy flashed a smile up at her as
he opened the tin and fished out a toffee.
"You're such a sweet heart," Agnes found herself smiling and
She reached out as if to take the candy and Herman gently took her
withered hand and sat down close beside her. He set the toffee tin in
her lap. Anticipating something momentous, Nigel and Mum drew closer,
and Angela lowered to one knee and put an arm comfortingly,
protectively around her little boy.
No one knew what might happen.
Mrs. Whitby nodded her head toward the toffee tin and lifted the lid.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the old handkerchief. Mr.
Whitby laid his head against his wife's cheek and pressed her against
his shoulder. Meticulously, almost business-like, Agnes laid the
handkerchief on her knee, smoothing out every wrinkle, then very
another and another. She knew them all, the diaper baby, the
xylophone kitty, the camel and elephant, and Mickey Mouse . . . and
the derby man, too, that she'd accidently discovered in Tommy's
corduroys pocket and had sworn to never say a thing about it.
She laid each of them softly on the lap of her dress and as she did
so, the stout years that had buried her grief began to slowly crumble.
with the word "mail" still emblazoned on the wings. It had been
Tommy's favourite.
The wall collapsed and her emotions flooded out.
"Oh, no! Tommy! Oh!" Mrs. Whitby cried and, clenching her fists,
collapsed into tears.
"Oh, Tommy!"
And she was swept up in wave after wave of the most agonizing anguish,
as if her heart had been utterly shattered.
withered hands, "God, I just wanted to die!"
Herman pressed her closer.
stroking her hair. "That's a good lass. Have a cry."
At last the gale was spent, and the distraught woman buried her face
in his coat lapels.
"It's alright, pet," Herman whispered, "He's got them now. He's got
them now."
HMSVV2010
|
|