LITMIR.BIZ

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helped bring you into the world.” Gran pauses and wipes her tired old eyes on a corner of her apron, “I bought him his first typewriter, didn’t I, Roger?”

      “Yes, a Remington portable from Whiteleys department store at Bayswater, Gran. It was an expensive gift, thank you.”

      Gran continues, “Took him to playgrounds in the Kensington parks when he was only young, and you remember how we cooked all those wonderful fresh mussels, whelks and brown crabs back in our little scullery kitchen?”

      “Just so many good things to remember and it all seems now such a long time ago in another lifetime even,” Gramps wheezes.

      In this instance “good” is not enough, Roger thinks.

      Roger wants to remember them the way they had always been, not old and sickly as they are now. The emotion is filling him from the toes up.

      Gramps hugs Roger. Tears are beginning to gather. Gramps’ eyes, are changing from the faded blue of old china to bloodshot but his voice is steady and strong now. “It’s been a privilege to be your Gramps every day of every year since you were born, Son.”

      Tears well up in Roger’s eyes with the sorrow of leaving them. He is struggling to recover his emotions that might rob him of speech in his shrinking world.

      “Remember, Sue,” Gramps advises, “don’t let fear hold you back, fear is like an invisible dragon. And sometimes you just need to say move aside dragon, you’re blocking my path.”

      After a few more tears from Gran and Sue, they leave feeling sad and buoyed up at the same time.

      Their ride home is a silent one, each lost in their own grave thoughts. James is sleeping and Jayne is looking out the window, obviously on one of her own adventures.

      “My tummy’s doing flip flops, Sue.”

      “You’re probably upset after our parting with your grandparents. Do you want to stop somewhere?”

      At home, Roger and Sue break open a bottle of money-be-damned Red wine.

      On the advice of their newly found friends at Australia House, they decide to leave most electrical appliances behind, the choice made for them by neighbours wanting to buy them at bargain prices. They are adamant, however, about taking their almost brand new state-of-the-art, electric kitchen stove. They are assured this should go, as for some reason cookers or electric ranges are in short supply, in the land of upside down. The lucky appliance is set aside for a sea voyage.

      Appropriate forms completed in quadruplicate, personal possessions finalised, they are ready to pack and go.

      Roger makes his final visit to Boss Man who throws a faltering smile.

      “I’d be pleased if you’d change your mind and stay. Particularly as I’m having trouble finding a suitable replacement for you. There are plenty of applicants but none who want to move to this area.”

      The accusatory tone of Boss Man implies that by leaving Roger is a dog turd.

      With a half-hearted handshake they part.

      At home, sitting as close as possible to their heater, Sue and Roger take stock of their situation.

      “The only things left to do is pack and get to Heathrow in time to board our flight,” Roger announces smiling.

      The next day their home telephone rattles. It is a call from Mrs Doolittle the veterinary surgeon’s wife. “Do you have papers for Fred?” she asks Sue.

      Sue shifts her weight, looks belligerent, and goes into Rhino mode before handing the telephone to Roger. She whispers, “They want Fred’s papers. Can you believe it? A week after he’s, he’s, …. and they call wanting the papers!”

      Frowning Roger takes the call. “We have papers somewhere but I’ll have to dig them out.”

      Allegedly, Dr Doolittle wants Fred’s papers so he can complete his befuddling paperwork for putting him down.

      “I know I’m no sharper than a butter knife, Sue, but I find that very hard to believe.”

      Sue sets her teeth. It is as if wisps of steam are curling from her ears.

      “With what he charges, I’d expect him to walk on water and have a direct line to pet heaven.”

      “Never mind, if there’s the slimmest chance for Fred, that he might go to a loving home instead of getting a sharp green needle…”

      “But to have been told the truth and spared the costs of euthanasia, would have been nice.”

      “Agreed, I’ll take the papers down tomorrow.”

      Roger turns up to the surgery where Mrs Doolittle advises her husband the vet is out on a house call. She takes the papers from Roger, gushing as she does so with admiration of their transatlantic move to the colonies.

      Roger leaves feeling confused. He is hoping that pure bred canine Fred has found a more or less legit home with the Doolittle family.

      Chapter 5

      THE LAST FAREWELL

      Friday, 12th March, 1971.

      The house sale has fallen through at the last moment, whatever will we do, Roger?”

      Roger is beside himself. Fretsaw’s words echo in his mind. Government rules state everything has to be sold and finalised before they leave. That is a cardinal rule, no loose ends, no unfinished business.

      “I refuse to let this stop us, Sue; and there’s another thing.”

      “What?”

      “Well, if migrants have been known to disappear to Australia leaving debts behind, why wait until the damned house is sold? Maybe we should get a move on!”

      Unwilling to put the kibosh on their plans at the eleventh hour, they leave the house and unsold contents in the hands of the local estate agent.

      “What if we get caught out?” A worried Sue asks Roger.

      “Pounds to Pesos I don’t see how they can. Not unless we tell them.”

      “Okay,” Sue takes a deep breath but her look is one of relief.

      “History shows we shouldn’t take governments too seriously. After all the best way of creating a famine, surely, would be putting any government department in charge of agriculture.”

      They arrive in London the day before their departure with limited time to do last minute shopping, sightseeing, and people watching prior to their big event. They find the city too noisy, too crowded. Amid horns blaring, they took in multiple deep breaths of diesel fumes.

      “Even Lord Nelson looks pensive in Trafalgar Square, stood on his giant granite shaft.”

      “Worried because of all those damned pigeons crapping all over him,” Sue replies. “He’s wearing a wig of bird poo that’s visible from down here.”

      At the Telecom Tower, boredom settles around them like a thick coat. There Roger plays with Jayne by pretending to be a lift operator.

      The lift is a rocket, even too fast to bother with music.

      “Going up,” he announces, “25th floor Ladies lingerie, Men’s apparel and Children’s shoes.” Jayne giggles. Sue smiles. James grunts.

      The distraction with their children helps to take Roger’s mind off his fear of heights. He looks to Sue for sympathy.

      “It’s hereditary,” he explains, “it always amazed me how my Dad could climb up into a Lancaster bomber, let alone fly one.”

      As they hurtle skyward he tries behaving as normal while the pulses in his neck threaten to burst out over the lift walls. His legs and feet begin to tingle and lose feeling; all he wants to do is sit in the foetal position on the floor in a dark corner

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