Several flowers were laid by the townspeople after a minute of silence passed and only the sound of the wind rustling the trees and the Stratford train churning to a halt echoed through the town. The Avenue of Honour was truly beautiful and the trees stood tall and proud, like many of our soldiers did. Darcy ran his hand across the groves of the plaque letting a tear escape past his cheeks. In honour of Andy Lansell, 1899 -1918.
“Andy-boy, you were a darn good mate, the best I tell ya,” his quiet voice cracked and he swallowed it all back, “I wish we never went, you know, to war because if it weren’t for those bloody Fritz you would still be right ‘ere today.”
Andy didn’t deserve this; he had so much ahead of him and some unfinished business.
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He stood back, Bob by his side, and with several large breaths the door unbolted and they were greeted with Cecelia’s pastel soft face. The corners of her mouth were curled ever so slightly, her eyes shooting concern. Darcy knew that she was expecting them.
“We’ve been meaning to talk to ya, Cecelia, it’s about time ya know they whole story,” Darcy said, receiving only a hesitant nod as a response. Knowing, by her behaviour, that she had read the letters that Andy had been sending her during the war Bob continued.
“The girl’s name is Frances-Jane. Ya know, the lady that helped at the fundraising. She’s been living in Bendigo for the past 4 ‘er 5 months now,” Bob inhaled before resuming “me and Darce have been sending her money since we’ve gotten back, to help her raise the baby and all.” Disgust fell upon Cecelia’s face. It was as if the tiny tear already made within her heart has now torn leaving a gaping hole, empty and unable to be fixed. Her emotions had changed like a flash of light, and before Darcy knew it he was blinded by the sweltering rays of the sun. He considered what it would be like if Andy was here to handle all of this. He was always excellent with women and he seemed to have a carefully thought out