Farewell - Michael Byrne
In Th’Farewell Tavern (its name stemmin’ from bein’ th’last pub in teawn back in Napoleon times) Robert Caysbie sat in ‘is usual cheear wi’ a pint uv bitter an’ wondered if today wud be th’day thut ‘e sis ‘is owd friend.
Robert, or Bobby t’is pals back in th’Fusiliers, is gerrin' on a bit neaw. Nay longer thut breet eyed daft lad who signed up t’shoot other breet eyed daft lads wi’ silly accents. Aye, theer's nowt left uv ‘is dark hair an’ wheet nashers, an’ whol ‘e used t'be built leek ‘e waur left in th’growing bag uv’erneet, neawadays ‘is muscle semd t’av buggered off; just levin’ a pooer owd codger. Th’type ‘e wud si as a lad an’ think ‘e cud na’er become.
But leeust e’d ‘ad th’chance to ged owd an’ dithery unleek ‘em other lads ‘e joined up wi’. Most uv 'em wud never geet th’chance to know wod arthritis wod feel leek. Tho the’d know pain alreet. Too mich ut such a young age. Bobby oft’ askt hissell if it bin woth th’sacrifice when lookin’ ut th’ruffins in th’pub, mooast bein’ th’age ‘e waur when ‘e went t’war. Gulpin’ deawn booze an’ effin' an’ jeffin’, an’ scrappin’ awe’l th’time t’boot.
Surely ‘e waur never thut gruff, ‘e thowt. Mind you, they left ‘im on ‘is tod an’ dint mither ‘im non. Nowe one ever tarked t’Bobby in fact, an’ thut's th’way ‘e leekt it. Even ‘is pint semd t’appear wi’out a werd sed. ‘Andy thut, sin’ as barten’er ignored ‘im when ‘e tried t’order.
Rough tho th’pub wor, back when ‘e waur young it wor otogether a different type uv fooak thut came bi, an’ it wor one patron in p’ticular thut Bobby ‘ad started comin’ back fer neaw. It wor th’only reesin bobby put up wi’place to tell trooth. Bobby wod av’ leek t’leave Farwell an no’ come back but thowt uv missin’ th’person e’d come t’si wor enoo to kep ‘im sat don. An so Bobby kept up ‘is vigil for longer than ‘e cud recall. It awe’l started when ‘e ‘eard rumour thut Th’Farewell waur haunted.
People towd uv a fella bein’ eighed on ‘is aewn in’t shadows, glimpses catched bi fooak ‘efore e’d vanish when they tried si ‘im futher. Appen it waur a trick uv th'mind some sed, but awe’l who'd sen ‘im swore blind it wor a reel apparition, dressed as it wor in a sowjer’s uniform from th’second world war. Bobby knowed uv one lad in ‘is regiment who used t’frequent Th'Farewell often an’ ‘ad ‘is last pint theer an’ all. Mark Laycock waur a fresh recruit an’ lots, includin’ Bobby, thowt ‘e waur younger than ‘e sed ‘e waur. E'd a bet awe’l th’tay in China thut Mark waurn't owder than seventeen. Mind you, e’d pult th'wool uv’er boowuth army recruiters an’ landlord aleek so theer wor nowt stoppin’ th’lad avin’ a pint an’ goin’ t’war. An’ as ‘e sipt ‘is last sup ‘e bid ta-ra to ‘is loved ones an’ promised em' e’d be back in nowe time. ‘E waurn't wrang. Second day uv action an’ our Mark catched a bullet. ‘E wor whoam in pine box next week.
Fer Bobby th’fact ghost wor suppost t’be fresh faced an’ in ‘is army clooas an’ chose this as ‘is place uv haunt wor too mich uv a coincidence. It just ‘ad to be Mark. An’ sooa Bobby, as ‘is actin’ sergeant ut time uv is gettin’ deaded, owed it to ‘im t’help ‘im cross t'other side. If any uv this tall tale waur true thut is, an’ t’be honest Bobby wor beginnin’ to doubt. Bobby ‘ad not sin owt or nowt resemblin’ Mark, an’ tho ‘e still ‘eared th’boozers tark uv a ghost ‘e wondered if they waur awe’l just pullin’ each other's legs.
But today wor different. Coz while last neet th’pub wor filled wi’ smook uv hundreds uv ciggies (swirlin’ leek moidered spirits themssells) today th’whole place wor crisp an’ clear. Bobby sken th’signs remindin’ people to nod leet up an’ ‘eard th’mitherin’ uv fooak ut this new law they’d just pas’d. This clarity uv vision (an’ th’fact sum patrons ‘ad stayed away in disgusd) meant thut Bobby cud si th’whole pub withowt bother. Despite this it wor still wi’ sum surprise thut Bobby cud si sumone lookin’ back ut ‘im across th’room. Expectin’ fleetin’ glimpses thut ‘e cud dismiss reet off, Bobby instead wor lookin’ ut a smilin’ sowjer, dressed in a grand uniform. Theer wor nowe mistakin’ it fer anyone but Mark. An’ rather than bein’ sum si throwe spectre, Mark wor as solid an’ lifleek as anyone else theer. Bold as brass ‘e wor. Bobby’s hands waur shekkin’ as ‘e drank sum uv ‘is beer before noddin’ t’Mark and Mark retunned th’gesture, as if ‘e knowed who Bobby waur despite ‘is owd appearance. Flummoxed, Bobby watched as Mark stood from ‘is table an’ warked eawtside. Sced thut loysin’ seet uv Mark wod mean ‘im disappearin’ fur good, Bobby scarpered after ‘im.
Bobby felt cowd in th’street, even tho th’sun wor still settin’ an’ a long summer ‘ad kept evenin’s warum. But seein’ Mark ahed uv ‘im med ‘im forgged abeawt th’weather. An’ so ‘e went up behind th’familiar fella who stood lookin’ at th’sunset.
“Amust be gooin’ loopy!” Bobby sed, ‘is voice tremblin’.
“Ow do, Bobby?” came Marks voyce, peaceful leek still watter.
“Christ it relly is thee I’nt it!”
Mark gave a nod an’ Bobby struggled not to gooa jelly legged. Regainin’ ‘is nouses ‘e askt another question.
“Con anyone else si thee?”
“If a wanted em too, aye. But only thee con si meh reet neaw.”
Bobby laffed. “Weel tha’s not bin too careful, Mark lad. Th’ole pubs bin talkin’ abeawt a ghost. Matter o’ fact it’s why ‘am ‘ere. An’ even tho a fel leek pinchin’ mesell in case ‘am dremin’ I still want t’tell thee thut is alreet t’mov on. T’relieve thee uv duty so t’speek.” But Mark shook ‘is ‘ead.
“Not me, Sarge. Fust time av’ bin ‘ere in a lang time. I only came t’si thee.” Bobby wor th’face uv puzzlement.
“But pub tarks uv a young lad in ‘is army best snekin abeawt th’place.”
Mark lookt oer to th’pub.
“They tark sum rot in these ‘ere pubs nowadays, eh? Not leek it used t’be.”
Bobby fownd hissell distracted bi th’question.
“Aye tha’s reet. A lonely place filled wi’ fooak is Farewell.”
“Why not come fer a wark wi’ meh?” Mark sed “A con tell thee wheer av’ bin sin’ me stint in th’army went arse uppard.”
Bobby chuckled but wor a might feartful.
“A wark?”
But Mark just kept smilin’ before beckonin’ Bobby to ‘is side. It wor then thut Bobby felt a rush uv understannin’, ‘is heart dooin’ th’Charleston in ‘is chest.
“Nowt ferus ‘ere anymore, Sarge.” Mark whispered an’ Bobby ‘ad t’agree, starrin’ as ‘e wor ut th’sight uv a young sowjer reflected back ut hissell throwe th’pub window. A sowjer thut lost ‘is wife three yer back an ‘ad no other family t’spake of.
“Aye,” sed Bobby, cottonin’ on it wor ‘is own refection ‘e eighed, “A wark seawnds grand.”
In th’fadin’ leet from a sleepin’ sun they seet off to’ard back uv th’terraces across from th’pub, ‘til they got t’a gate thut led t’woodland on th’edge uv teawn wheer they warked into th’shade uv th’trees. Laughin’ to thissell’s thinkin’ abeawt th’good ol days. ‘Til eventually the voyces mingled wi’ th’sound of nature abeawt ‘em ‘efore all thut was ‘eard wor nowt but th’breeze and th’song o’ roostin’ burds.
Bobby Waur fon’ deaded in ‘is whoam th’next day. Six month e’d bin theer. Deed abeawt sam’ time as th’ghost began turnin’ up in th’pub, or so they reckon. Th’locals still peddled th’ghost story leek but theer wor nowt in it neaw thut nebody eighed it anymore. Not since Bobby an’ Mark took thut wark they took. Before lon’ sed locals left teawn when th’jobs dreed up. Or took th’same wark as Bobby an’ Mark when th’time wor reet. ‘Til eventually foalk forgod theer ever waur tark uv a ghost in th’furst place.
Farewell stonds empty these days, boarded up an’ glum. It’ll be turned int’flats soon enoo.
Michael Byrne 2024
Robert, or Bobby t’is pals back in th’Fusiliers, is gerrin' on a bit neaw. Nay longer thut breet eyed daft lad who signed up t’shoot other breet eyed daft lads wi’ silly accents. Aye, theer's nowt left uv ‘is dark hair an’ wheet nashers, an’ whol ‘e used t'be built leek ‘e waur left in th’growing bag uv’erneet, neawadays ‘is muscle semd t’av buggered off; just levin’ a pooer owd codger. Th’type ‘e wud si as a lad an’ think ‘e cud na’er become.
But leeust e’d ‘ad th’chance to ged owd an’ dithery unleek ‘em other lads ‘e joined up wi’. Most uv 'em wud never geet th’chance to know wod arthritis wod feel leek. Tho the’d know pain alreet. Too mich ut such a young age. Bobby oft’ askt hissell if it bin woth th’sacrifice when lookin’ ut th’ruffins in th’pub, mooast bein’ th’age ‘e waur when ‘e went t’war. Gulpin’ deawn booze an’ effin' an’ jeffin’, an’ scrappin’ awe’l th’time t’boot.
Surely ‘e waur never thut gruff, ‘e thowt. Mind you, they left ‘im on ‘is tod an’ dint mither ‘im non. Nowe one ever tarked t’Bobby in fact, an’ thut's th’way ‘e leekt it. Even ‘is pint semd t’appear wi’out a werd sed. ‘Andy thut, sin’ as barten’er ignored ‘im when ‘e tried t’order.
Rough tho th’pub wor, back when ‘e waur young it wor otogether a different type uv fooak thut came bi, an’ it wor one patron in p’ticular thut Bobby ‘ad started comin’ back fer neaw. It wor th’only reesin bobby put up wi’place to tell trooth. Bobby wod av’ leek t’leave Farwell an no’ come back but thowt uv missin’ th’person e’d come t’si wor enoo to kep ‘im sat don. An so Bobby kept up ‘is vigil for longer than ‘e cud recall. It awe’l started when ‘e ‘eard rumour thut Th’Farewell waur haunted.
People towd uv a fella bein’ eighed on ‘is aewn in’t shadows, glimpses catched bi fooak ‘efore e’d vanish when they tried si ‘im futher. Appen it waur a trick uv th'mind some sed, but awe’l who'd sen ‘im swore blind it wor a reel apparition, dressed as it wor in a sowjer’s uniform from th’second world war. Bobby knowed uv one lad in ‘is regiment who used t’frequent Th'Farewell often an’ ‘ad ‘is last pint theer an’ all. Mark Laycock waur a fresh recruit an’ lots, includin’ Bobby, thowt ‘e waur younger than ‘e sed ‘e waur. E'd a bet awe’l th’tay in China thut Mark waurn't owder than seventeen. Mind you, e’d pult th'wool uv’er boowuth army recruiters an’ landlord aleek so theer wor nowt stoppin’ th’lad avin’ a pint an’ goin’ t’war. An’ as ‘e sipt ‘is last sup ‘e bid ta-ra to ‘is loved ones an’ promised em' e’d be back in nowe time. ‘E waurn't wrang. Second day uv action an’ our Mark catched a bullet. ‘E wor whoam in pine box next week.
Fer Bobby th’fact ghost wor suppost t’be fresh faced an’ in ‘is army clooas an’ chose this as ‘is place uv haunt wor too mich uv a coincidence. It just ‘ad to be Mark. An’ sooa Bobby, as ‘is actin’ sergeant ut time uv is gettin’ deaded, owed it to ‘im t’help ‘im cross t'other side. If any uv this tall tale waur true thut is, an’ t’be honest Bobby wor beginnin’ to doubt. Bobby ‘ad not sin owt or nowt resemblin’ Mark, an’ tho ‘e still ‘eared th’boozers tark uv a ghost ‘e wondered if they waur awe’l just pullin’ each other's legs.
But today wor different. Coz while last neet th’pub wor filled wi’ smook uv hundreds uv ciggies (swirlin’ leek moidered spirits themssells) today th’whole place wor crisp an’ clear. Bobby sken th’signs remindin’ people to nod leet up an’ ‘eard th’mitherin’ uv fooak ut this new law they’d just pas’d. This clarity uv vision (an’ th’fact sum patrons ‘ad stayed away in disgusd) meant thut Bobby cud si th’whole pub withowt bother. Despite this it wor still wi’ sum surprise thut Bobby cud si sumone lookin’ back ut ‘im across th’room. Expectin’ fleetin’ glimpses thut ‘e cud dismiss reet off, Bobby instead wor lookin’ ut a smilin’ sowjer, dressed in a grand uniform. Theer wor nowe mistakin’ it fer anyone but Mark. An’ rather than bein’ sum si throwe spectre, Mark wor as solid an’ lifleek as anyone else theer. Bold as brass ‘e wor. Bobby’s hands waur shekkin’ as ‘e drank sum uv ‘is beer before noddin’ t’Mark and Mark retunned th’gesture, as if ‘e knowed who Bobby waur despite ‘is owd appearance. Flummoxed, Bobby watched as Mark stood from ‘is table an’ warked eawtside. Sced thut loysin’ seet uv Mark wod mean ‘im disappearin’ fur good, Bobby scarpered after ‘im.
Bobby felt cowd in th’street, even tho th’sun wor still settin’ an’ a long summer ‘ad kept evenin’s warum. But seein’ Mark ahed uv ‘im med ‘im forgged abeawt th’weather. An’ so ‘e went up behind th’familiar fella who stood lookin’ at th’sunset.
“Amust be gooin’ loopy!” Bobby sed, ‘is voice tremblin’.
“Ow do, Bobby?” came Marks voyce, peaceful leek still watter.
“Christ it relly is thee I’nt it!”
Mark gave a nod an’ Bobby struggled not to gooa jelly legged. Regainin’ ‘is nouses ‘e askt another question.
“Con anyone else si thee?”
“If a wanted em too, aye. But only thee con si meh reet neaw.”
Bobby laffed. “Weel tha’s not bin too careful, Mark lad. Th’ole pubs bin talkin’ abeawt a ghost. Matter o’ fact it’s why ‘am ‘ere. An’ even tho a fel leek pinchin’ mesell in case ‘am dremin’ I still want t’tell thee thut is alreet t’mov on. T’relieve thee uv duty so t’speek.” But Mark shook ‘is ‘ead.
“Not me, Sarge. Fust time av’ bin ‘ere in a lang time. I only came t’si thee.” Bobby wor th’face uv puzzlement.
“But pub tarks uv a young lad in ‘is army best snekin abeawt th’place.”
Mark lookt oer to th’pub.
“They tark sum rot in these ‘ere pubs nowadays, eh? Not leek it used t’be.”
Bobby fownd hissell distracted bi th’question.
“Aye tha’s reet. A lonely place filled wi’ fooak is Farewell.”
“Why not come fer a wark wi’ meh?” Mark sed “A con tell thee wheer av’ bin sin’ me stint in th’army went arse uppard.”
Bobby chuckled but wor a might feartful.
“A wark?”
But Mark just kept smilin’ before beckonin’ Bobby to ‘is side. It wor then thut Bobby felt a rush uv understannin’, ‘is heart dooin’ th’Charleston in ‘is chest.
“Nowt ferus ‘ere anymore, Sarge.” Mark whispered an’ Bobby ‘ad t’agree, starrin’ as ‘e wor ut th’sight uv a young sowjer reflected back ut hissell throwe th’pub window. A sowjer thut lost ‘is wife three yer back an ‘ad no other family t’spake of.
“Aye,” sed Bobby, cottonin’ on it wor ‘is own refection ‘e eighed, “A wark seawnds grand.”
In th’fadin’ leet from a sleepin’ sun they seet off to’ard back uv th’terraces across from th’pub, ‘til they got t’a gate thut led t’woodland on th’edge uv teawn wheer they warked into th’shade uv th’trees. Laughin’ to thissell’s thinkin’ abeawt th’good ol days. ‘Til eventually the voyces mingled wi’ th’sound of nature abeawt ‘em ‘efore all thut was ‘eard wor nowt but th’breeze and th’song o’ roostin’ burds.
Bobby Waur fon’ deaded in ‘is whoam th’next day. Six month e’d bin theer. Deed abeawt sam’ time as th’ghost began turnin’ up in th’pub, or so they reckon. Th’locals still peddled th’ghost story leek but theer wor nowt in it neaw thut nebody eighed it anymore. Not since Bobby an’ Mark took thut wark they took. Before lon’ sed locals left teawn when th’jobs dreed up. Or took th’same wark as Bobby an’ Mark when th’time wor reet. ‘Til eventually foalk forgod theer ever waur tark uv a ghost in th’furst place.
Farewell stonds empty these days, boarded up an’ glum. It’ll be turned int’flats soon enoo.
Michael Byrne 2024