Diamonds in the Dust by Beryl Matthews Page B

somehow. It fitted perfectly, as if the box had been made for it.’
    ‘I agree.’ Reg stood up and tucked the bundle of letters in his pocket. ‘I’ll go through these again tonight in case we missed something. You take it easy tomorrow.’
    Stan pulled a face, making Reg laugh. ‘Daft thing to tell you, isn’t it?’
     
    The next morning, Stan was ready early for his visit to the jeweller’s in Bond Street. He would have to go by train, and the journey would be impossible using just a stick. Loath as he was to use the crutches, he knew he didn’t have any choice. His leg would never stand up to everything he wanted to do today. He would have to keep as much pressure off it as he could, and that would mean using the blasted things. The problem was that they put a strain on his back, but he’d just have to put up with that.
    He retrieved them from the shed and set off for the station.
    ‘Watch it!’ Stan swayed and nearly lost his balance when a young boy of around seven ran straight into him. He struggled to stay upright and avoid the indignity of ending up flat out on the pavement.
    ‘Jimmy!’ A woman rushed up and grabbed hold of Stan to support him. ‘Come here and apologise to the gentleman.’
    The boy crept back, looking downcast. ‘Sorry sir, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
    ‘You all right?’ the woman asked. ‘I hope my boy didn’t hurt you?’
    ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Stan lied. The boy had given hisinjured leg a sharp kick as he’d sped by, and the pain was excruciating. He gritted his teeth and continued up the road. Nothing was going to stop him doing what he’d planned today. Nothing!
    By the time he reached the station and bought his ticket, the pain was bearable. He found a bench and sat down to wait for his train. The platform was quite crowded with men going to work, women with children, and young girls. There weren’t many young men, as nearly a whole generation had been slaughtered in the war. As Stan watched people laughing and talking, he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of loneliness. He was still a young man, but what kind of a life did he have in front of him? No girl in her right mind would want to marry him. He would never be able to take her out walking or dancing – never have a family of his own …
    As the feeling of emptiness engulfed him, he swore under his breath, took out a cigarette and lit it, drawing on it deeply and blowing the smoke into the air. Damn it! He’d accepted all this. Why did the regrets have to rear their ugly head again? When he’d first returned home he’d tried to drown the pain and hopelessness in whisky, but had soon found out that it didn’t help – only made him feel worse. He’d come to terms with the restrictions by reminding himself that he was alive and a lot better off than many other poor devils, and that included his older brother. God, that still hurt, but he was damned if he was going to allow himself to become a bitter man, and a burden to his family.
    The train puffed into the station, and Stan hauled himself up.
    ‘You need a hand?’ a middle-aged man asked.
    ‘I can manage.’ But Stan smiled his thanks when the man held the train door open for him.
    Stan was about to sit down when he saw a young man having difficulty getting into the carriage. He recognised the condition immediately, and holding the door he reached out. ‘All right, mate. You take your time.’
    With the help of the middle-aged man, they pulled him in and settled him in a corner seat so he could look out of the window. Stan sat beside him, lit a cigarette and placed it in the young man’s mouth.
    ‘Shell shock,’ the other man muttered grimly. ‘Bloody war. What about you, son? Have you lost your leg?’
    ‘No, I’ve still got it, but it’s not much use.’ Stan turned to the young man. ‘Where you going, mate?’
    With a great deal of difficulty the young man took a piece of paper out of his pocket. It bore the address of the