by Brritski
Was there a story about William Brown's later years?

Perhaps it went something like this:



The old man woke up with a start. That loud and tuneless
whistle reminded him of something. He looked round the unfamiliar surroundings
of the nursing home that he'd been moved to earlier that afternoon.
Another old man was being hustled along by the senior nurse. He was
wearing baggy khaki shorts that were held up by red braces. His bandy
legs disappeared into shapeless grey socks that had gathered round his
ankles above muddy shoes. Despite the shorts he was wearing a blazer
and a salmon and cucumber tie that was slightly off-centre.

"Right Bill, you sit here until tea-time"
"Jolly good Matron, what're we havin' ?"
"You'll find out when it gets here."
As she settled him into the chair she tugged off his beret
tousling the already untidy hair that surrounded his bald crown. 

"Hello old man, just arrived ?"
"Yes, I'm Henry."
"William Brown."
Henry looked at him, recognition slowly growing. he knew he'd
heard that whistle before.

"William ? Good God, it must be 50 years !"
"Have we met old man ? Good Lord yes, Henry and it's been
*more* than 50 years. Wonderful to see you."
"And you too William." Henry nodded at the retreating back of
the nurse, "Trouble ?"
"Oh that" said William scornfully, "not really. Dot said that
she needed a little Easter outin' so I jus' took her for a walk. It wasn't
my fault that the brakes on her ol' wheelchair weren't workin'. But
the pond wasn't very deep, just a bit muddy is all. And Dot said she
enjoyed the paddle."
Henry grinned.
"Sounds like old times. Do you ever see any of the other
Outlaws or the rest of the crowd ?"
William sighed and offered Henry a pear drop.
"No, not for a long time. I heard Douglas became a secretary
somewhere foreign and writes ol' thrillers now. We lost touch though.
Ginger died early in the war. His Group Captain wrote to me, Johns I
think his name was, said what a brave chap Ginger had been and how
fond he'd been of another officer who died on the same raid.
Buggersworth or something. Joan and I met the C/O a few months later."
"You stayed in touch with Joan Crewe all that time ?"
"Oh yes" William smiled sadly "we stayed together orlright, as
long as we could. That RAF chappie was bad luck for the Outlaws though. He
dropped Joan and I into Occupied France and she was captured. I never
saw her again."
Henry thought back to that lovely, slender little girl and how
much she'd adored William, but without ever being soppy about it. She was
the only girl who was ever allowed to join the Outlaws.
"I'm very to sorry to hear that, Joan was wonderful, much
nicer than that silly girl at the big house."
William looked at him, grinning "Vi ? Oh we met up at the end
of the war. V.E. day was aptly named. Well V.E. night actually. Don't look so
embarrassed old man, you weren't to know. She grew up into a fine
woman. Had speech therapy for the lisp and saw real life driving an
ambulance in the East End all through the Blitz. We had many happy
years together." William's voice trailed off and he looked down.
"What happened ?" asked Henry.
"Cancer. She had a very painful end. She screamed and
screamed. She was very sick.
They sat in silence for a while.
William looked at his watch.
"Time for tea Henry, come on I'll show you the way, and
afterwards we'll go down to the woods. No gamekeepers now chasin' us an' all."
"And no Jumble either." 
William looked at his old school friend, tears in his rheumy
old eyes.
"No, they're all gone. Jus' us two left, but they'll always be
with us."
The old men shuffled into the dining room, arm in arm. They
picked at the sandwiches and cake, and completely ignored the jelly. Henry fell
asleep again. William got up quietly and left him. He walked out of
the home and down the lane to the woods, hands in his pockets,
whistlin' tunelessly.