It was a quiet affair, Arthur`s funeral. Well he wasn`t one for socialising, and all his old workmates are either dead or living on the Costa Brava. I never fancied that much, living in Spain, all that funny food and waiters pinchin` your bum all the time.
    It was pourin` down when I woke up this morning. I lay there listening to the rain beatin` against the window and for a moment I swear I heard him, wheezing up the stairs, the tea cups clanking around on the bloomin`tray. Mondays and Thursdays. They were his mornings for what he called the `tea run`. He always asked me the same question before he climbed out of bed. `Toast or cereal lass?` Never waited for an answer either, just struggled into his manky old dressing gown before disappearing through the bedroom door.
    The vicar came round to see me, ask me a few questions about Arthur, where he`d worked, what his hobbies were, things like that. I told him about him making shoes at Ward`s factory and the medal he`d won in the Great war for bringing wounded soldiers back from the front line in his lorry. Arthur never talked about it much, but he did tell me once that if he`d been an Officer he would have got the Military Cross instead of just the Military medal. Mind I think he was still proud that he`d won it. I showed the vicar his medal before giving him a cup of tea out of the china teapot that Arthur`s workmates had given us for a wedding present. Quite dusty it was but I soon had it looking sparkling again. He wanted coffee but I had to tell him neither of us touched the stuff. I said I could go round to Daisy`s next door `cos I knew she was one for her Nescafe, but he just smiled and said tea would be fine. He seemed quite a nice young man but I couldn`t help noticing he had this funny little twitch and he kept glancing at his watch. Me and Arthur, well we`d never been much on church going, except when our Peter and Beverly got married. Arthur was what he called a `lapsed Catholic` on account of him falling out with his local Parish Priest when he was a young man. Ever so handsome he was, when he was a teenager. I`ve got this picture of him in boxing gloves, all squared up and rugged he looks. Anyway this thing with the Priest was something to do with doctrine Arthur said, although I never really understood and it was rarely mentioned. 
    Lovely day it was, Peter`s wedding. Blue sky and sun shining like it somehow knew it was someone`s special day. Beverley looked stunning in her dress, which to be honest was a bit of a surprise. Well she`d never been one for dressing up you see, liked to slop around in jeans and baggy sweaters most of the time. She changed though after the wedding, sort of spruced herself up if you know what I mean. I suppose that`s why I noticed she was getting so thin. To be honest I was a bit cross `cos I thought she was on one of those fancy diet things and she`d always been such a bonny lass, specially after the twins were born. It took me ages to forgive Peter for not saying anything. He told us afterwards she hadn`t wanted anybody to know how ill she was. She didn`t want anybody making a fuss, he said. The boys took it bad even though they were still toddlers. Me and Arthur helped all we could of course by having them two or three times a week whilst Peter was at work. It wasn`t easy though, what with Arthur`s breathing and my gammy leg. To be honest they were quite a handful, but I think it was mainly because they missed their mam. Peter took them to Australia in the end. New start and a new life, he said.
    The nurses were ever so good to Arthur in Hospital, `cept one. I came to see him one morning and there she was, all sour-faced and and lifting his head up ever so abrupt whilst she plumped up his pillow. I didn`t say nothin` `cos I don`t like to make a fuss and I`m sure she could tell by the way I glared at her that I wasn`t happy with what I`d just seen. That was the morning he was quite poorly. All straw coloured and sweaty he was and calling out the boys` names. He never said nothin` but I know he missed them a lot. Peter kept asking us to go and see them down under but Arthur wouldn`t go. Scared of flying you see, ever since we had a bad experience coming back from a holiday in Malta. Terrible thunderstorm it was, reminded me of when I was a nipper on one of  them roller coaster rides at Blackpool. Anyway Arthur was sick as a dog and swore he`d never set foot on an aeroplane again. Peter said why didn`t I go and leave the silly old sod at home, but I said I couldn`t do that, him an` me not havin` spent a night apart since we got wed.
     Pneumonia and something else medical it said on his death certificate. He was quite disturbed at the end, muttering something about fires and damnation. One of the nurses asked me if he was a religious person and I told him about the lapsed Catholic thing. She said she`d try and find a clergyman for him. About an hour later one turned up by his bed and I think seeing his dog-collar and everything calmed him down. Anyway soon after I was having a coffee in the tea bar when the nurse came to tell me he`d passed away quite peacefully. I`m sorry I wasn`t there when he went but my throat was that parched....
     I`m thinking of getting myself one of those computer machines. Peter says I can fix a camera to it and then we`ll be able to see live pictures of each other. Betty up at the surgery says she went to a special class for old folk to learn all about how to use a computer. She gave me a leaflet with number to ring if I want to have a go. Arthur was never one for gadgets. His wheelbarrow for fetching stuff from his allotment was the nearest he got to anything mechanical. I can see him now, trundling that squeaky old barrow down the street, clouds of smoke from his mucky old pipe billowing out behind him like some creaky old steam engine. The boys use to love it when it was time to pick the veg, `specially the broad beans. They`d burst into the kitchen waving a freshly picked bean in each hand and half an hour later we`d all be sitting down to their favourite meal of broad beans and bacon smothered in rich tomato sauce!
     The church was quite cold. I sat on the front row with Daisy and Mr Bilton from the Post Office. Peter was really sorry that he couldn`t make it, but what with his job and both boys down with the measles... The vicar was ever so good, said how Arthur had got his medal in the First war as well as being a fire warden in the last one. He said how Arthur was a quiet, reserved man who loved his grandchildren and how he missed them `cos they were thousands of miles away. What he didn`t say was that he could sometimes be a bit of an old stick-in-the-mud and if I`m honest it was probably Arthur what drove Peter to take off to the other side of the world in the first place. He never really let Peter grow up you see, always saw him as this little boy who needed to be constantly chided, even when he went off to University and later when he married Beverley. But then none of us are perfect are we, and some things are best left unsaid...

     My ticket arrived this morning. I`m feeling a bit nervous, flying all that way, but it will be worth it just to see Peter and the boys after such a long time. Peter`s got a new lady friend now and he says the boys have really taken to her. I`ve kept up with them of course, via the internet. They look such handsome lads now with Beverley`s blonde curly hair and their dad`s  toothy grin. Peter says they`re going to make me a special meal for when I arrive. Perhaps it will be new broad beans and bacon smothered in lots of lovely tomato sauce...