Michael Morpurgo - My Friend Walter

It was a little difficult to know quite what to do. I mean, no one had ever kissed my hand before. I felt suddenly like a queen or a princess and, to be honest, I liked it. He took my hand and helped me down from the bed.

‘I think I’d better be going now,’ I said. He looked a bit upset at this and I hated myself for my clumsiness. ‘It’s my Aunty Ellie,’ I tried to explain. ‘She’ll be waiting for me down on Tower Green. She’ll be wondering where I’ve got to and if I don’t go soon she’ll come looking for me. We’ve got to go all the way back to Devon tonight. It’s a long way.’

‘Devon?’ said Sir Walter Raleigh, his eyes suddenly lighting up. ‘Did you say Devon?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We’ve got a farm down in Devon, Exeter way it is, not far from Honiton. That’s where I live.’ He took his cloak off my shoulders and folded it over his arm. As we walked together towards the door he said nothing. He seemed deep in thought. ‘I know Devon well. In truth I am, or I was, a Devon man,’ he said. ‘When I was a boy – and that was indeed hundreds of years ago – when I was a boy I too lived on a farm in Devon. I have dreamed of that place ever since. Perchance you know it, cousin. They call it Hayes, Hayes Barton. It lies within the parish of East Budleigh, not many miles from the sea. There never was a place more beautiful in all the world. And I should know, cousin, for I have travelled far and wide on this earth and never have I found a more pleasant place. Had I but lived out my life at Hayes, I might have kept my head on my shoulders and I might now be at peace with my soul. But what’s done cannot be undone.’ He stopped and put his hand on my shoulder. When I turned round and looked up, his eyes were pleading. ‘Dear cousin Bess, I would I could see those green fields once again and the cows and the sheep in the meadows. I would fish once more in the silver streams and ride over the hills with the wind in my face salty from the sea. Prithee, good cousin, take me with you back to Devon. I would not trouble you for long, for a few days perhaps.’ He looked around him. ‘Dear God, how I tire of these grim grey walls. They were a prison for me in my life and they have been my prison ever since. There is no comfort here for my troubled spirit.’

‘Bess! Bess Throckmorton!’ Aunty Ellie’s voice was calling from below. She was angry. She always used my surname when she was angry.

‘I’ve really got to go,’ I said and reached out to open the door. But when I turned and saw him standing alone in that cold bleak room I knew I could not leave him behind.

‘Bess Throckmorton!’ – Aunty Ellie again.

I opened the door. ‘I’m coming!’ I called out. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think anyone at home would like the idea of a ghost in the house. They wouldn’t understand, and my Gran’s got a bad heart. If she gets upset she has one of her turns, so you’ve got to promise you won’t ever show yourself. It’ll be a secret, just you and me, no one else.’

‘I would not have it any other way, dear cousin,’ said Walter Raleigh, his face beaming with joy. ‘We shall bind ourselves now in a solemn promise. I shall not reveal myself to anyone except to you and in return you shall tell no one of this meeting or of your cousin Walter. They would only think you mad – and I would not have anyone believe that of you. I will be your true and secret friend, dear Bess, for as long as you have need of me. You have my word on it.’

‘Bess Throckmorton!’

‘I shall follow you, cousin. You will not always see me, for I find it tires me to show myself for too long, but rest assured that I shall be at your side.’

As I came down the steps I noticed that Aunty Ellie and Miss Soper were talking to the same Beefeater I had seen showing the tourists round the Bloody Tower. I called out to Aunty Ellie because I had a sudden terrible sinking feeling that she might not be able to see me, that no one would ever see me again. I was quite relieved when she looked up and saw me. ‘Bess!’ she cried, rushing towards me. ‘Bess Throckmorton! Whatever have you been up to? Where have you been?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, shrugging my shoulders. ‘Nowhere.’

‘I was just telling this gentleman here how I left you up there and he swore blue murder there was no one else up there.’ The Beefeater she was talking about came over to join us. ‘You see,’ Aunty Ellie said to him pointedly. ‘She was up there, just like I said. I told you, didn’t I?’

The Beefeater looked at me and frowned. He was more than a little puzzled. ‘Well, I just don’t understand it, lady,’ he protested. ‘I don’t understand it at all. I was up there not five minutes ago and I’m telling you there was no one up there. Hiding under the bed were you? You’re not s’posed to go near that bed. They do that, these kids, sometimes. Got no discipline these days.’

‘I was out on Raleigh’s Walk,’ I said. ‘Down the end.’

‘I never seen you,’ said the Beefeater.

‘Well wherever you were you took a mighty long time about it,’ said Aunty Ellie. ‘Worried me sick, you did. And Winnie has very likely caught a cold waiting out here for you. Most inconsiderate, Bess Throckmorton. I’m surprised at you. Now come along. We’ve to drop Winnie off at her hotel and then we must get back to Devon. I promised your mother I’d have you back home by midnight.’

And so we were. I sat in the front all the way but I could not resist looking over my shoulder into the back seat. Sir Walter Raleigh was there. I could not see him but I knew he was there. Somehow I could feel him, and more than once Aunty Ellie had to open a window. ‘I smell cigarette smoke,’ she said, tutting and shaking her head. ‘Must’ve been Winnie. I never knew she smoked. It clings to the clothes, you know. Filthy habit. Never smoke, Bessy dear, you hear me, never. Can’t think why anyone ever invented the filthy habit.’

Mother noticed it too, as I climbed into bed that night. ‘Better wash your hair tomorrow,’ she said as she kissed me goodnight. ‘It smells of cigarette smoke. ’Spect there were lots of people smoking at the party, were there?’ I nodded. ‘Did you meet anyone interesting?’ Mindful of who was probably listening, I replied: ‘Just one.’

‘Who was he?’

‘He’s called Walter,’ I said. And Mother went out. I heard her talking to Father in the passage outside the bathroom later. ‘She met a friend called Walter,’ she said.

‘Boyfriends already,’ said Father. ‘Funny name, Walter,’ and their bedroom door closed.

‘Are you there, Sir Walter?’ I whispered.

‘I’m here.’ The voice came first, then the cloaked figure appeared sitting in the chair under the mantelpiece where I kept my collection of china owls.

‘Where you going to sleep?’ I asked.

‘Like your owls, ghosts don’t sleep much,’ he said. He leaned heavily on his cane and stood up. ‘Good night, dear cousin, and may God bless you always for your kindness to me. I shall not forget it.’ And he came over to my bed, took my hand and kissed it gently.

‘Goodnight, Sir Walter,’ I said.

‘I am called Walter to my friends and family. You are indeed my family and I trust you will always be my friend.’

‘Yes,’ I said. And my friend Walter walked out through the door and was gone as suddenly as he had come. Downstairs Humph began to bark furiously and to scratch at the back door, and only I knew it wasn’t the fox he was after.

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