text: Can You Keep A Secret? I shared this bench every Thursday lunchtime with the same little old man for months now and apart from the usual hello, lovely day, we had never really spoken to each other. I would sit, enjoying the sunshine on my face, munching my sandwich, relishing not being in the office for an hour and he would sit at the other end of the bench, enjoying a repast of blackened bananas. At first the smell of over ripe banana was a bit off putting but he ate them with such obvious enjoyment that I soon got used to it. At his question I turned to look at him, surprised at such a strange query. I didn’t know whether I did actually want to know, who knows what evil.... etc. etc. but he seemed such a quiet, refined little man it seemed silly not to answer. As he turned towards me I noticed how pale he looked - but he always looked pale, it went with his baldness and lack of eyebrows, so that seemed no different than usual. His thick glasses, with the one eye glass blacked out, was as usual, too. I had often wondered how he rode the bicycle he always came on. I had never asked him if he lived close by - he must, I would think, to get to the park unscathed by city traffic. Smiling, his one eye twinkling he said “I am so glad I am old. There, I’ve said it out loud. I know that’s something you’re not supposed to admit to but I am - so glad.” He sat back on the bench, reached in his knapsack for another banana and started to peel it. “But why,” I asked “Are you ill?” He smiled and set his banana skin aside to join the others in the little pile on the bench. “No, I don’t think so, although once you get to my age things tend to creep up on you and before you know it, you’re dead!” He said this almost gleefully, which I found a little odd but then this whole conversation seemed a little odd. “No, it’s just how the world has changed so fast in the last few decades, I can’t keep up. I love my little bookshop but books have gone by the by. Phones are so strange I can’t even use them. There are so many channels on my television I don’t even know what to watch, anymore! My children seem to think I should want to live forever but to be frank that holds little appeal.” “You own a bookshop!” I exclaimed. “Books are my favourite things, above all else. Not everyone wants to read on their e readers - I don’t. I love paper books. You are so lucky to be surrounded by words! I envy you - I work in an office, I’m on a computer all day.” I finished off my sandwich, rolling up the bag to stuff in my backpack, “My name is Helen, by the way.” He inclined his head as though receiving a gift and offered his own. “I am Horace Walter. I beg you to call me Walter as I dislike Horace. What relative my parents were placating by naming a poor, innocent babe Horace, I have no idea.” He said, chuckling. “Helen, very nice to meet you.” He held out out his hand. I shook it, smiling, standing and gathering up my backpack for my trek back to work. “ Hope to see you again, next week, Walter. Enjoy your ride home. Your secret is safe with me.” The next Thursday it rained so I ate my lunch in the lunchroom. Yuck, just saying. But the following week it was a lovely, sunshiny day and I found myself walking a little faster than usual to see if Walter was sitting on our bench. I smiled when I saw his old bike chained to the rack by the road and saw him unloading his bag of bananas. “Hello, Walter, any more secrets to divulge?” I whipped out my sandwich, a thing of beauty I might add, and sat down, first checking for bird poop as seagulls are great that way. Coast was clear so I sat and opened up my lunch. He chewed for a moment and said, thoughtfully, “I wish I could tell you how quickly time flies. How one minute you’re in your prime with a lifetime ahead of you and the next minute you’re at the pointy end and it’s almost over. I can’t, of course, because that’s how the human mind works. It takes the knowledge of our own ending and slides it out of our thoughts so we don’t dwell on it. I don’t mean to sound maudlin. I think it’s incredibly sad that you have to get old to figure that out.” Munching and swallowing, I replied. “I do try to enjoy each day, to find something good, even on the rainy ones when I have to eat in the lunchroom.” I must have sounded glum because he laughed at that and nodded his head. “Good. That’s a great way to do it.” We chewed side by side for awhile and then I heard him sigh. “What?” “I enjoyed my life. I grew up in Birmingham, England, poor, but as they say - if everybody is in the same boat you don’t even know you are! “ He paused to reach for another banana, peeling it carefully. “ I was an infantryman for a couple of years but was honourably discharged when I became ill. I wasn’t really soldier material. Too short, too small. Lost all my hair when I was sick, even my eyebrows, so you could really say I came back from war a changed man!” Chuckling, he turned towards me and winked. “What did you do then?” I asked, smiling. “ Became a tea salesman for a while. Travelled round Warwickshire signing up stores and tea shops. Great way to see the countryside and meet young ladies.” That eye of his had no trouble twinkling for two and I laughed at his expression. If he had any eye brows he’d be wiggling them. “I worked my way up to superintendent at the telephone exchange, back when phones were landlines and people actually spoke to one another. Texting.” He said, shaking his head. I laughed, nodding “I hate texting, my last boyfriend actually broke up with me that way. Not even a phone call!” Walter grimaced. “Ouch, that must have hurt your feelings.” “Actually, I was happy to see him go but jeez louise, I thought I deserved a phone call!” “How did you end up here, Walter, in Victoria?” I asked, shooing away a sea gull wanting to share my sandwich. “I wanted an adventure. I saved up my money, packed up my bike and came via Quebec. Boy, those custom guys there made me so angry. They took apart the crate holding my bicycle and just left it, in pieces, on the floor. I had hardly any time to get to the train station to catch the cross Canada train so I just left the crate there and cycled away!” He said, grinning. His obvious enjoyment of that memory had me grinning, too. “Bet they weren’t too happy about that.” “I made it to the train with minutes to spare and loaded my bike on with me. Then every time I saw a part of the country that looked interesting I got off, rode for a day or two, and got back on at the next station. It was a great way to see Canada. What a beautiful country! “ He added to his banana skin pile, turning back to face me, his face solemn. “You will never know how lucky you are to live here, Helen, trust me on that. It was the best decision I made in my whole life - to come here.” He tipped back his head, closing his eye, letting the sun warm his face. I gathered up all my garbage, hiking up my backpack, touching him on the shoulder as I turned to go. “Well, I’m very glad you came here Walter, otherwise I’d never have met you!” He smiled, keeping his eye closed against the glare of the sun, and I returned to the cubicle that is my life. Thursday again and I am so looking forward to seeing Walter . I googled his book shop and I want to ask him if he has some of the authors I’m looking for. I could go out on Saturday on the bus. I don’t see his bike and when I get to our bench someone else is sitting on it. Maybe he moved to another one, I thought, looking around. Nope, no Walter as far as the eye can see. Oh, well, maybe he had something else to do. There’s always next week, I tell myself as I choose another bench. I looked for him every Thursday for months but I never saw him again. I couldn’t believe how much I missed our little lunch time chats. I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to enjoy every day as he advised me to do. I’m hoping he’s sitting on a bench somewhere, in the sunshine, giving another nugget of wisdom to a lucky someone. Maybe he’ll tell them a secret.