Heather Never Blooms in Israel

Paul Kelly

Description

This fantastic new eBook from well-known author Paul Kelly will make an excellent addition to any fiction-lover's digital shelf. Featuring strong characters and plots which draws you into Kelly's worlds, reviewers have been recommending his titles for years. This latest addition to his catalogue of successes is sure to be another winner.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 12 mars 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781781661437
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page

HEATHER NEVER BLOOMS IN ISRAEL

First sequel to ‘A Billy or a Dan or an Old Tin Can





By
Paul Kelly




Publisher Information

Heather Never Blooms In Israel
Published in 2011 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright © Paul Kelly

The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Chapter One

THE DRIVE TO MANCHESTER was rather tedious and Willie was bored just looking at the country side. He was glad when eventually he arrived at the Y.M.C.A and parked his car, intending to have an early night as he felt very tired after the journey. The following morning he awoke, feeling very much fresher and more inclined to drive further on the long road to London and he packed the little he had taken from his suitcase the night before and carried it to the elevator, from his third floor room. He enjoyed a good breakfast in the ground floor dining room and was contentedly sipping his second cup of delicious coffee when it happened . . .
“Oh! I am sorry Mate … really sorry.” Willie’s coffee went all over the table and down his trousers and he jumped up quickly. “I really am sorry Cobber. I must have caught your shoulder with my rucksack.”
Willie pulled out his handkerchief and tried to dab his trousers dry, hoping he wouldn’t have to change as everything was already packed in his case and stacked by the front entrance, ready for the journey. He looked about for the toilet. Maybe he could do something, if there was a towel in there …
“The ‘place’ is just round the corner there. Can I help you at all?” The culprit enquired tactfully, obviously trying to make amends.
“No thanks. No trouble done. I’ll just be off then,” said Willie as he made his way into the men’s toilet and fortunately was able to clean himself up, sufficiently to continue on his journey. The coffee was only surface wet and looked worse than it actually was and as he returned to the Reception Desk to settle his account and give back his room key, he was met again by the young man who was still wearing his rucksack. Willie made as if to walk around him carefully, hoping that nothing else would happen to delay him.
“I hope you had an enjoyable stay, Sir.” The Receptionist called out as he handed Willie his receipt. “Are you travelling far?”
“Yes, I did thanks and … well, only to London.”
“Nice day for travelling. Have a safe journey and come again … perhaps on your way back to Scotland, eh?”
Willie smiled as he took the receipt. There was no hiding the accent and he knew that most people could smell the heather whenever he opened his mouth.
“I won’t be going back for some time, I don’t think,” . . . he hesitated as he pondered for a few seconds and stared into space, “but thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh! I should have asked you before. Can I get you some sandwiches or something for the journey down?” enquired the Receptionist, but before Willie could answer yes or no, the Receptionist continued, “Of course. I’ll see to it straight away,” and banged a bell on his desk with his fist as Willie went to gather his luggage.
“I say Sport …”
Willie turned round to see the rucksack chappie staring at him.
“Yes?”
“I know it’s a bloody liberty to ask you … I mean, having drenched you with coffee an’ all, but I heard you say you were travelling to London . . .”
Willie had a fair guess what was to come next and anticipated the request.
“Yes O.K I’ll give you a lift, but please,” Willie pointed to the pack on the man’s back, “put that in the boot, will you? …and’ I’m leaving in five minutes.”
“Great …just great … I’ll be waiting in the forecourt for you.”
The two young men set off in the warm sunshine. The car behaved beautifully and Willie was pleased.
“My name’s Roger …Roger Smith … common name isn’t it? I’m from Australia, What’s yours?”
The Aussie stuck out his hand and grinned as he introduced himself.
“Blair … Willie Blair. I’m from Scotland.”
“I thought you might have come down from Scotland, Cobber. The accent, you know, but no offence. As a matter of fact I rather like it. Glad to make your acquaintance, Willie Blair. Have you been to London before?”
“No, this is my first visit.”
“Me too … well apart from a few days last month, that is. I came over from Melbourne to join the army, but they wouldn’t have me. No Sir, just wouldn’t have me … They turned me down flat.”
“But couldn’t you have joined the army in Australia?”
“Yea, sure ah could, but I wanted to see a bit of the world an’ I thought they’d welcome me in Britain, bein’ from the Commonwealth, you know?”
Willie felt that his new companion considered himself to be quite somebody, from the way he spoke, but then he remembered someone had told him that most Ausie’s had a large chip on their shoulder and he was curious, but reluctant to ask why he had been turned down by His Majesty’s Government, however his curiosity was soon satisfied.
“Flat feet.” said the Australian.
“What?”
“Flat feet mate. Would you believe it? I come all the way from Melbourne and they tell me I’ve got flat feet and that I can just toddle off back home again.”
Willie wanted to laugh. His friend sounded just like a duck.
“But how does that affect your suitability to join the forces?” he asked as the Australian squirmed and cocked an eyebrow.
“Can’t march, Can I? Can’t march with flat feet,” he commented as he pulled his leg into the air and kicked the dashboard. “Cor, I seem to be accident prone this morning … but would you notice that I had flat feet, Cobber?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Willie still wishing for an excuse to laugh and the Australian innocently obliged.
“They tell me I walk like a pregnant duck, Sport,” he said and Willie was glad of the pun as he laughed heartily and his companion joined him. “Do you have a Sheila back in Scotland, Willie?”
“What’s a Sheila?” Willie looked puzzled as he stared into space.
“A Sheila …why that’s a skirt …a girl”
Willie wanted to say ‘yes’ but it would have raised further questions that he did not want to answer.
“No, I haven’t got a Sheila,” he answered quietly.
“Nor me, Mate. I find most Sheila’s are a pain in the ass. Some are O.K. of course. My mother’s O.K. and my sister’s O.K. but only up to a point, if you get my drift. They always want somethin’ . . . Never satisfied.”
Willie found this new philosophy from down under to be rather interesting, if somewhat novel, as he drove on, hour after hour listening to the tireless chatter of his companion and to the stories of his Australian lifestyle. He learned that Roger had two brothers, both of whom had been killed in the war and a sister who farmed a few acres of land with the help of his widowed mother, but he didn’t volunteer any information about himself, even if Willie could have got a word in edgeways or any other way for that matter, between Roger’s family history.
“We’re coming into London now,” Willie looked at his watched as he munched one of the Y.M.C.A. corned beef sandwiches.
“Can you spare one of those, Mate?”
“Yes of course. I’m sorry I should have offered.”
The Australian leaned forward and undid the sandwich box.
“I’m always hungry,” he said as he devoured greedily
“You can finish them off if you like. I won’t want any more.”
“Thanks Mate, Good on ya.”
Roger needed no second invitation. He consumed the lot and lay back to have a nap, crossing his legs and snoring contentedly as his head fell forward onto his chest.
“I’ll call you when we arrive,” Willie assured his travelling companion as he drove on in valued silence, except for the Australian snores that followed.

***

He parked the car and woke his companion when they arrived at the outskirts of London “Well, we’re here now. I don’t know where you want to go in London?” asked Willie as he sat for some time in the car examining the street map. “I’ll need to get a newspaper and have a look at the ‘Rooms to Let’ column.”
Roger stretched himself and yawned like a rhinoceros.
“Suits me… I’ll just get me rucksack from the boot. I’ll need to find a place to lay me weary head too, Mate. I guess I’ll just stroll along behind you … that is if you don’t mind?”
Willie got the paper and they walked together along the embankment for some little way before they sat down.
“I’ll have to watch where I parked the car. It was up there, wasn’t it … or was it up there … or? Oh, Id better to go back and study the vacancies there. I’ll need to find my way anyway.”
“Suits me,” said Roger and strolled along behind Willie as he promised he would . . .
“Look that’s your car there isn’t it, Willie?
Willie looked to where Roger was pointing and he saw the vehicle only a few yards from the seat on the embankment where he had intended to sit.
“That’s strange. I would have sworn I parked it farther away than that. I must have come down one street and up another. Is that the Strand up there?” He looked at his map as, turning it in various angles as he spoke. “Yes,