The pavilion had an air of
subdued quietness as everyone got dressed in their street gear.
Feeling uncomfortable, Trevor changed quickly and set off
home.
From a distance Trevor
could see someone sitting on his doorstep. He thought it was Paul
come to explain what had happened. Trevor couldn’t help it, his
steps quickened. He’d been given a second chance to help, and there
was no way he would squander it. However, as he drew closer, he
could see it wasn’t Paul. It wasn’t until he’d reached the house
next door but one, and the man had spotted him coming and stood up,
that Trevor realised who it was.
His steps faltered. It
couldn’t be. Then after giving himself a mental shake he began
walking again, his heart beating more rapidly. He opened his garden
gate and made his way up the short path.
“Trevor, me old
mate.”
That well-remembered grin
did something to Trevor’s insides, leaving him weak and in a fog.