The Last Train Home by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: .ISBNincl, Horror, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780692727942
Publisher: James Ward Kirk Publishing
Published: 2016-06-02T05:00:00+00:00

A Quick Turnaround

Walter was a young 82, too young to be shoved into an old folk’s home by his son, Charlie, anyway. But that was more to do with Charlie’s desire to move his growing family into his father’s huge rambling house than it was to do with Walter’s wellbeing.

True the old man had had a fall and spent the night on the kitchen floor, stuck there till his carer turned up the next day. But that was more to do with the half a bottle of whisky he’d had as a bedtime drink rather than his angina.

‘Don’t fuss. I can manage,’ snapped Walter as his son practically yanked him out of the passenger seat of the car.

‘I’m only trying to help for God’s sake Dad.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Walter, ‘You want to get me dumped here so you can go off and play footie with your mates.’

‘You know I have five-a-side on Saturdays Dad,’ said Charlie in a rare moment of honesty, taking Walter by the elbow and heading for the entrance, one pace ahead of his father every step.

It didn’t help matters when they reached the front door of ‘The Retreat’ and had to wait while undertakers insensitively removed a coffin from inside the building through the front entrance to the waiting hearse outside.

‘Look,’ said Walter to his son, ‘That’ll be me in a few weeks, carried out feet first.’

‘You’ve got plenty of years left in you yet Dad,’ said Charlie, hoping the opposite. The windfall from the old man’s death would far outweigh the dubious pleasure he got from spending an evening a week listening to the old duffer reminiscing about days gone by.

‘And you are…?’ asked the pinch faced bag of fat at the reception desk.

‘…condemned to death,’ answered Walter.

‘Shut up Dad,’ hissed his son, ‘Walter Cribbs.’

She looked down the list on her desk.

‘Yes,’ she said looking up with what served her as a smile, a look similar to that any normal person would have after biting into a lemon, ‘You’re in Mr Abanuku’s room.’

Walter looked at her blank faced. She regarded him as if he was an idiot.

‘Mr Abanuku.’ She nodded at the coffin being clattered through the stiffly sprung front door, ‘We’re at capacity. You’re lucky to get in Mr Cribbs.’

‘The bed might still be warm,’ said Walter under his breath.

There was a minute or two of paperwork that Charlie huffed and puffed through, then he was off. He didn’t know how to say goodbye to his father, so he gave him a brief, weak hug, the sort of hug you’d give a tramp that had just saved your life.

‘I’ll pop back and check you’ve settled in okay in a week or two,’ he said as the front door snapped closed behind him.

No he wouldn’t. It was a lie. They both knew that. Walter was flying solo now till his proverbial clogs popped.

Mr Abanuku’s old room turned out to be quite cosy, sparsely furnished, but what was there was comfortable enough. There was a single bed, wardrobe and drawers, en suite, a little TV and hot drinks equipment.

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