“Who was that love said Patricia, Robert’s wife?
“It was the solicitor ringing to tell me my father has died and that they want me to come down to London tomorrow to discuss his will. Patricia had packed an overnight bag for him in case he had to stay.
Robert ate a light breakfast then set off by taxi to the train station.
He hoped the lift was working as he kissed his wife at the door then walked along the corridor where the lift was situated. He didn’t fancy walking down umpteen flights of stairs to the bottom of the tower block.
The kids were always setting off the fire alarm and the whole building had to be evacuated and then when the check was done they would be allowed to go back to their homes. If the lift wasn’t working it was a pain having to walk all the way back up stairs. The caretaker was forever chasing gangs of kids and alcoholics who used the lift as a urinal.
The taxi pulled in at the station and Robert paid him then hurried for his train that was at platform two.
He placed his holdall in the rack above his head after taking out “The Tower of Babel” by Morris L West about two terrorists one who is a statesman the other a criminal in a tale of Middle Eastern politics and a game of cat and mouse in an explosive world.
He went into his jacket pocket and took out his reading glasses and slipped them over his nose. Robert was a handsome looking man even now his hair was just turning grey at his sideburns but he had a full head of wavy hair.
Both of his sons had inherited the same wavy hair, both had shoulder length hair these days because of the fashion change. His deep blue eyes and square jaw gave him an athletic look. He had actually played rugby for his county and East Kilbride as a professional until he tore his ligaments in his right knee and his career was cut short at the age of only twenty three. He met Patricia during his rugby playing days in his local pub the Celtic Piper. She was only five feet six and had to stand on tip toe to kiss him as he was six feet two. They were going out for two and a half years before Robert popped the question.
Patricia was a strawberry blonde; she was very slim but full breasted with blue eyes. His team mate Andrew Blacklock introduced them as it was his sister.
He bought her a drink and they seemed to hit it off immediately. He took her to the cinema every Saturday night after the match. They were married at St Mary’s Church on July the 5th 1942.
Because of his knee injury he failed the medical for the army and worked in the Clyde Ship Yard as a welder.
Robert opened the page where he had left off the night before. He would have plenty of time to read the book as the journey would take some four and a half hours.