Tomorrow's ghost

It was after the first war, he was talking about - sixty years ago, nearly! She was going to have to watch her time-scale, thought Frances. He was dredging back into his memory, already prepared by Paul's questions of the day before, telling her what he thought she wanted to know.

'Top of the Corporation Park, luv - you know it. Where the tennis courts are now.'

The hand fastened on her ankle, which dangled just over the edge of the bed beside him.

'Top of the Corporation Park.'

* * *

The Corporation Park.

Dripping, dripping, dripping wet. Under the umbrella, but everything dripping - the wet mist in her face.

She had walked alongside Brian. She had pushed the child's push-chair which he had provided, the mist fogging her glasses until she'd been forced to stop in a shop doorway and substitute her contact lenses for the glasses; and he'd made her take her green raincoat off and put on the beige-coloured one he'd produced from inside the push- chair; and also a head-scarf instead of the umbrella (not Mrs Bates' umbrella, but a smaller, useless feminine one, which he'd collapsed into an eight-inch cylinder and stuffed back into his pocket; Brian knew a thing or two about tailing a target, and was prepared to change their profile on the assumption that Colonel Butler knew a thing or two about being tailed).

* * *

'Yes, I know Corporation Park.'

'Well, I remember that, then.' He squeezed the ankle encouragingly. 'And Blackburn Rovers won the Cup - in 1927 or 1928 ... 1928, it was. And then, before the war - the other war. Hitler's War - Lancashire won the county championship three years in succession.

That was under the* captaincy of Leonard Green - Colonel Leonard Green, he was a friend of the General's, of course.... He lived at Worley, where we used to play an annual match. The Lancashire players in those days ... there was Ted MacDonald, the most marvellous bowler of all time - and George Duckworth kept wicket - '

Frances closed her eyes. They were on to cricket now - cricket was Colonel Butler's game, so it wasn't surprising that it had also been Sands' game and the General's. But Rifleman Sands was also on to her calf and a different game now.

* * *

She had seen better with her contact lenses, blinking the rain out of her eyes, although she still couldn't see one hell of a lot of the Corporation Park.

But she could hear the ducks away to her left in the murk, enjoying the weather. The very sound of them frightened her.

Where was Colonel Butler going? He'd been to the shops, and bought flowers and a large parcel from the confectioner's. But now he was walking in the rain, very straight and purposeful, as though he knew where he was going. Flowers and parcel had already been delivered to St. Luke's - Frances and Brian had huddled under the inadequate umbrella at the end of the road for twenty minutes; then Brian had taken the lead, but at the gate to the Park she had moved past him to keep the broad back, the deer-stalker (of all utterly ridiculous headgear, a deer-stalker!) and the multi-coloured golfing umbrella in view - if he's set out to be obvious he couldn't have done better, so it wasn't difficult; but it was exceptionally wet and uncomfortable.

(All the same, she'd been glad about St. Luke's. That had been exactly, almost uncannily, what she'd been expecting, against hope.)

* * *

Perhaps he'd moved up from her ankle to her calf because her feet were still wet.

No way! He'd moved up because that was the way to her knee: This is Number Three (they'd sung at Robbie's battalion seven-a-side rugby contest, within earshot of the battalion ladies) and my hand is on her knee!

And Rifleman Sands had reached Number Three. But at least, if he was genuinely bed-ridden, he couldn't manage Number Four, Frances felt entitled to hope.

But just in case ... and in any case, she had to keep his mind on her job.

She moved her leg warningly. He held on grimly.

'I saw Colonel Butler in the Park today, Mr Sands.'

The hand relaxed - it didn't move away, but it relaxed.

'Oh ah? Been to see me today, has the Colonel - ' He stared at her suddenly, as though she was not an ankle and a knee, but potentially something more, a human being. 'There was a man came to see me not long ago.'

'He's been to see you?' Frances pounced on what she wanted.

'From the newspaper, aye,' Rifleman Sands nodded. 'He was a good-looking lad, but a bit too pleased with hisself.' He nodded again. 'Mind you, he knew about the war, I'll give 'im that. Ypres, he knew Ypres - ' he winked at Frances ' - 'Wipers' what we called, he knew that. And Bapaume and Albert, with the old Virgin...'

The old Virgin? That sounded like a contradiction in terms with young Rifleman Sands about.

'And Beaumont Hamel - he's been there. And he saw the Lone Tree!' Rifleman Sands shook his head in wonder. 'He actually saw the Lone Tree! It's still there - I wouldn't have believed it, but he's seen it with his own eyes! After all this time! And it was dead when I knew it. But he's seen it!'

Frances winced at the sudden pressure on her leg, just above the knee.