‘I’m sorry, Devon. We’ve lost Mr Matthews.’ 

The words hung momentarily in the air, melted and disappeared like a vapour trail.  

‘Uncle David?’ whispered Devon.  

‘A heart attack last week. If you need to talk….’   

The social worker began but Devon was already at the door.  In his room, he cried into his pillow.  

Alice sat in her kitchen, the events of the last few weeks tumbling through her mind  like a series of snapshots in a photograph album. It began as a routine day walking Spangles, her beloved cockapoo, around the little lake in the park. The picnic bench was her mid-walk stopping point and a chance to enjoy the vista over the lake.  A man was seated, watching the wild life. She would not disturb him. But just as she approached, there was a terrific commotion. The male swan was marking its territory with a tremendous flapping of wings and a deep throated quacking sound as it flew the length of the small lake, gliding in to land just in front of the picnic bench. The man stood up and looked at Alice.  

‘Wow, what a display!’ 

Alice hesitated and then confided. 

‘I call him Trubshaw’.  

He looked puzzled.  

‘Wait – ah yes – I see.  He was the Concorde test pilot’. 

Alice smiled.  

This is my first time in the park. Must say, I’m impressed.  

Alice’s phone rang.  

‘Sorry! I’ll be there in 10 mins.’ 

‘My friend is waiting for me.  Bye. Oh! Nice meeting you.’ 

That night it rained and turned colder.  

Next day Alice put on her boots and waxed jacket. Even in the dampness, the park was beautiful. She thought about the man from  the previous day.  So many millions of people in the world but you only get to be friends with a handful in your lifetime.  She rounded the corner. Someone was sitting at the bench.   He turned and smiled. 

‘Hello’, he said, ‘I wondered if I’d see you.’ 

‘Oh, I’m here most days.’ 

Even in this dreary weather, the wild flowers look fantastic. Wish I knew what they were called.  

‘Which ones?’ 

‘There’s masses of those yellow dandelion things. What are they?’ 

‘That’s Rough Hawksbeard’. 

And then Alice lost control of her tongue.  

‘Why don’t we walk round the lake,  and I’ll point out some more plants.’ 

Without hesitation he stood up.  

“I’m Alice.’ 

‘And I’m David.’ 

They met and chatted every day.  They discussed their interests. David told her about his coin collection and she talked about  art and books. The weather brightened and once again, Alice lost control of her tongue. 

‘Why don’t we have a picnic tomorrow’. 

‘That’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time.  I’ll bring the wine.’ 

In years to come Alice would remember how happy she had been in her kitchen preparing spicy lamb kebabs.  Two little tubs of fresh fruit salad and two slices of homemade chocolate cake. The sun came out, the temperature rose to 25 degrees. It was calm, cloudless and simply glorious.  

David poured wine into two plastic cups. Alice spread out the food and handed him a napkin.  

‘I feel as if I’m on holiday,’ said David 

‘Have you travelled much?’ asked Alice 

‘Yes.  I’m an engineer and I used to be part of an international team that carried out independent checks on major constructions.’ 

‘And yourself?’ 

‘Before Bill, my husband, died – we did quite a few cruises and managed to see some interesting places.’  

‘And are your travelling days over?’ 

‘Not sure. After an inner ear infection, I feel dizzy at the very thought of flying.’ 

‘Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?’ 

‘Yes. I have a younger sister, married and living in New England.  I would love to go and meet her friends and family.’ 

‘I guess you could go by ship.’ 

‘Yes but it takes so long and it’s very expensive.’ 

‘My daughters tell me that I should just go but- well I’m cautious with money.’ 

‘How many daughters do you have?’ 

‘Two. And you?’ 

‘Two stepsons. I married late in life. It didn’t work out and her sons weren’t really interested in getting to know me.’  

They packed up, agreed that it had been a lovely, relaxed afternoon  and before he left, David said. 

‘I won’t be here tomorrow as I have some things to attend to but I hope to see you soon.’  

Several days passed and there was no sign of David. Alice felt irritated. She missed him but she didn’t want this complication in her life. So much pain when Bill died so how stupid was she now to allow feelings to become attached to someone she hardly knew. On the other hand she thought,  ‘Well I’m still alive. Why shouldn’t I have feelings? ‘ 

Two weeks passed and there was no sign of David. She felt a sadness every time she walked past the picnic bench. 

As she stood  beside the teasels, she recalled his conversation  about his work for a charity called Talking to Teens. Over the years he had spent time with troubled teenagers, most of whom had no parental support and all of whom were in institutions.  

‘It wasn’t easy. It was very difficult to reach them and if you did, the chances were  they heaped their anger and disappointment on you.’ 

‘So why did you do it?’ 

‘I was and still am passionate about helping these young people. They did not deserve what happened to them. And there was reward. I took them out to concerts and sports venues and the cinema and the seaside. I feel that I contributed something. Quite a few of them remain in touch with me.’ 

‘And are you still involved?’ 

David looked pensive.  

‘As it happens I am currently mentoring a lad called Devon. He is of mixed race and his father returned to his homeland when he was still a baby. His mother became an alcoholic and died not long afterwards. He is a wonderful person. He’s enthusiastic, joyful and very grateful. When I asked him why he wasn’t angry and difficult, his reply was simply amazing. He said he had worked out that the whole world is a reflection of yourself and that, if you are resentful, miserable and angry – then that’s the world you live in.’ 

‘Alice, how could a boy in his circumstances have formulated such a philosophy?’ 

Two weeks later when the summer heat was beginning to subside, she rounded the corner. Her heart rate increased.  There was a man sitting alone on the picnic bench.   He turned around. It wasn’t David.  However, he stood up and looked directly at her.  

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘ are you, by any chance Alice?’ 

She hesitated, then nodded slightly.   

‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m David’s brother. Won’t you sit down?’ 

She sat down.  

‘I recognise you from my brother’s description.’  

He paused and then said.  

‘Im afraid I have some bad news. My brother died a month ago.  First a stroke and then a massive heart attack.’ 

There was a rush of sadness.  Emotions flooded into her. Anger collided with pain and disappointment.  

‘Are you ok?’  

She nodded. 

‘ I’m Nigel, David’s younger brother.’ 

‘David communicated to me that finally something – someone good had happened to him. He told me that in you he had found a kindred soul, for the first time in his life. He said he knew with absolute certainty that, if he survived, he would want to be with you for the rest of his life.  

There is something else. 

She stood up.  

‘Please, this is important. My brother has bequeathed you his coin collection. There is value in the collection and he wants you to use the money to visit your sister in America.’  

Alice remained standing and quiet.  

‘Look – I hardly knew your brother.’ 

‘Alice – he begged me – it was his dying wish.’ 

He handed her a letter.  

‘Here are the details.’ 

‘I have consulted a dealer in London and  we have agreed a price. When you have decided what you want to do, ring me, my contact details are in the letter.’ 

‘Nigel, do you know about a boy called Devon?’ 

‘Yes, I do.’ 

‘Can you help me find him?’ 

Two years later Alice was on board a liner crossing the Atlantic. Beside her 16 year old Devon held a running commentary on everything – the other passengers, the décor, the pianist.  For the umpteenth time he asked Alice about the relatives she was going to see.  

‘So Janet is your sister which means that you are auntie to her children.’ 

Devon was thoughtful.  

‘I had an uncle once.  Uncle David. He was ace. Only he wasn’t my real uncle.’ 

He stopped.  

‘Probably better than a real uncle.  I think you knew him.’ 

‘Alice, do you ever think about Uncle David?’ 

‘I do, replied Alice. ‘Without him I would never have found you.’ 

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