A Ticket to Happiness
and other short stories
by
Richard Cudlow
Copyright 2012 Richard Cudlow
Table of Contents
A Ticket To Happiness
Can I Have Anything...Mummy?
Socrates And The Triple Filter
Spiritual Justice
Per Ardua Ad Astra-or-The Longest Night Of The Year
The Ballad Of Karen’s Driving Test
Beverley Wins First Prize
About the Author
A Ticket to Happiness
I’ll never understand the human race. People are always saying things like ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ and ‘you should never judge a book by its cover’. Of course, they judge things by their appearance all the time. To hear most people talk it is more a question of every silver lining has a cloud. If only people would realise that life is what you make it.
Now, take Arthur, Arthur Lewis. I’m his best friend yet at times I could shake him by the neck. He tells me everything, really confides in me. I show him where he goes wrong as best I can but does he listen to me? No!
Arthur’s a traffic warden and there’s nothing wrong with that, I hear you say, but he really is his own worst enemy. His uniform is always immaculate and when he walks his beat I can’t help but feel proud of how smart he looks. Of course, the rest of the human race can’t stand him but it’s his own fault. His job comes first with him and if he sees an infringement of the Traffic Law, he’ll pounce. He’s issued tickets to Doctors, Fire Engines and once, and this made the local paper, to a wheel chair while the occupant was still in it! You can imagine what people call him.
I remember being with him in the park once and within earshot of two old men sitting on a bench. Bear in mind that they were talking about the chap I look up to and I heard one say that if he’d been in Germany in the 1930’s he would have given the SS a bad name. Naturally, I shouted at them but to no avail, people just seem to ignore everything I say.
Of course, they don’t know Arthur like I do. They don’t know that when his wife died part of the kind, amiable man that I knew died with her. I remember that the letter advising him of his appointment as a Traffic Warden arrived on the day he lost her. I tried to comfort him but he rejected any attempt by me or anyone else for that matter. It was as if he’d built a wall around himself from the day he put on his uniform. The only things that seemed to matter were the job and our friendship. Of course, I was flattered but there was no way I could replace the things he’d lost. I don’t think anyone could. Then came that day last week, that’s when it all started, although I didn’t know it at the time.
He came home after work as usual but ignored me completely. He walked into the kitchen, slumped into the chair and put his head in his hands. I watched him for a few minutes, but there was nothing I could do or say. I guessed he’d tell me what was up in his own time. I turned and walked into the front room and waited. Later that evening we went for a walk and that was when he opened up to me. He must have talked for an hour and we went much further than we meant to.
He began by talking about his wife, Sarah. They’d been trying for a child for years and when she did finally become pregnant they were overjoyed. It was the miscarriage that led to her death and turned Arthur so bitter. The one thing in life he did have a soft spot for, was children. He would have made a wonderful father. Then he started to tell me what happened that day and the reason for his despair.
At the morning briefing the Inspector had picked him out and ordered him to make sure he was around the school in Elmwood Road when the parents picked up their children. I suppose that with all the cars and kids there was an accident just waiting to happen and if anyone could avert it, it was Arthur. He arrived at the school just before the last bell would signal the children’s exodus.
Almost immediately he spotted the car parked right in the middle of the zig-zag lines by the gate. With a deep intake of breath Arthur reached into his breast pocket for the ticket pad. With an efficiency for which he had become famous, Arthur slid the ticket under the wiper and stepped back toward the gate as he returned his pad to his pocket.
The bell sounded and Arthur pictured the scene from his own school days, the rush to the cloakroom, the grabbing of bags, hats and coats and the pushing for the doors. Arthur smiled to himself when he noticed a group of children approaching the gates. One lad, of about ten, was surrounded by others who were listening intently to him.
"Me and my Dad went to the country on Sunday to see his friend who's a farmer."
"Cor", responded a little girl, "was there a lot of animals?"
"Yeah", he replied, "horses, cows and pigs. But the best thing was that they let me drive the tractor. I couldn't reach the pedals but I sat on my Dad's lap and did all the steering and changed the gear lever".
Arthur smiled at the lad's obvious pleasure, feeling a warmth that few people would believe he could feel. One slightly older boy then confronted him.
"You're a liar, Richard, I've been to your house and you ain't got a Dad"
The group fell silent and Arthur watched as the boy hung his head. Quietly, but with crystal clarity, Arthur heard him say,
"I know I ain't, but I like to talk as if I ‘ave.”
Defiantly, Richard looked the boy in the eye.
“Anyway, that’s what we would’ve done if 'e 'adn't died".
Arthur could hardly breathe with the lump in his throat. Without another sound the children drifted off leaving Richard alone.
"Did you do this?" the angry voice jolted Arthur back to reality. "Two minutes I was in that shop, couldn’t you give me two minutes?"
The irate woman waved the ticket in Arthur's face.
"I only came here to pick up my child, I can't afford this".
Arthur immediately reverted to his reputation.
"I'm sorry, Madam", he replied while trying to regain his composure, "You are illegally parked. You can appeal, but my advice would be to pay it and park more carefully in future".
"Come on Richard, get in the car" she said and grabbed the boy's hand. He struggled to keep up as she hurried to the car and Arthur couldn't help but notice how totally dejected he looked. As the car sped away, he couldn’t take his eyes off the rear window, through which the boy stared at him.
Arthur told me that he just couldn’t stop thinking about the boy and what he’d been through. His thoughts of the mother softened too.
“I suppose,” he said dejectedly, “if she’s bringing him up on her own that fine will hit her hard.”
“It’s not your fault,” I replied but it seemed to make no difference.
“Come on”, he said and we walked home in silence, not even stopping for our usual drink at the Kings Head.
The next morning I was pleased to see that he arose in a much better mood. It was as if he couldn’t wait to go to work and I felt quite relieved as I saw him stroll off with his head held high. I felt so proud when he later told me what he did that day.
Arthur had planned his beat so that he was outside the school again just as the bell signalled the end of the day. He waited for the children to spill out of the building and was there some time before he saw Richard finally appear. He was walking alone and, as he approached the gate, Arthur moved to meet him.
"Richard", he called, the boy stopped and looked at him warily.
"Do you remember me?" he said, "I was here when your Mum picked you up yesterday. Please give her this for me".
Arthur reached into his tunic pocket and held out the envelope. The boy said nothing but eventually put out his hand and took it. Arthur turned and hurried through the gates as the battered Escort pulled up.
That evening he took m
e to the pub, a sure sign that he was feeling better. I was looking forward to the next instalment the following day and Arthur didn’t disappoint me.
Walking his beat the following afternoon Arthur was startled by a voice behind him.
"Excuse me", he turned and was surprised to see Richard's mother.
She smiled nervously and was holding the envelope in her hand.
"I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to shout like that the other day and I certainly didn't expect this.”
She held out the envelope. It had contained four £20 notes and a message from Arthur. He had explained that while he couldn't cancel the ticket he could remove the hardship it would cause. Any change, he'd said, was for a treat for Richard.
"I wish I could say that I couldn't accept it", she said, "but if you're really sure I would be so grateful".
Arthur explained to the boy’s mother what he’d overheard the previous day and her eye’s filled with tears.
“When that lad spoke to him like that, I could have throttled him.”
She looked sad as the memories came flooding back. Arthur just stood awkwardly, not sure what to do.
“It’s been two years since the accident when Richard lost his father.”
Arthur thought she was going to cry but she somehow regained her composure.
“If it wasn’t for Richard, I don’t know how I’d have coped,” she said.
Arthur felt a pang of regret at having no child to help him get over Sarah.
“I know what you mean,” he said, “my wife died before we could have any children.”
They looked at each other in silence for a while until Arthur felt a little embarrassed.
“Tell you what,” he said, struggling to appear at ease, “Richard will be coming out of school soon, why don’t we take him somewhere for his tea. My treat.”
She nodded and, smiling to themselves, they slowly made their way towards the school.
Well, the day has finally arrived, Arthur has talked about nothing but Richard and Joyce, I finally got to hear her name, for days. Today I’m to meet them too and I can’t wait. We’re meeting them in the park and then they’re coming back here for tea. I tell you, he’s been a different person lately, much more like the Arthur of old.
“Come on, boy,” he called.
I jumped straight out of my basket and with tail wagging for all its worth, stood impatiently while he attached my lead.
“Can I have Anything,... Mummy?