William the OAP
In an early version of Social Media in 2001 somebody wrote:
> There was a rather pleasant play about Richmal Crompton on R4 thisafternoon. I was surprised to hear she was in the middle of a new William story when she died after the war, but I’m sure I’ve heard/read a piece (not by her) in which William and the Outlaws were grown up and participating in said war. A meringue ? Anyone remember such a work ?
Which was the inspiration for this story for my Creative Writing class.
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 bacon and egg 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 ol’ 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.
© Roger Tilbury 2001
rtilbury 
This was written almost a quarter of a century ago, so a few explanations are in order for younger people who have never heard of Just William (Brown) who was an anarchic schoolboy who featured in a huge number of very funny books with his friends.
They called themselves the Outlaws and comprised William and Henry as mentioned in the story and Douglas (who I hint was Douglas Hurd who became Foreign Secretary and did indeed write thrillers when he retired).
The fourth member was Ginger, which was also the name of the main sidekick of Biggles – Sqdn. Ldr James Bigglesworth of the RFC and then RAF in another series of books that I loved as a child, written by Grp. Capt. WE Johns so I imagined them as the same people.
Joan was as described and the other girl featured was Violet-Elizabeth Bott, the spoiled brat daughter of a nouveau-riche family. Whenever she could not get her way she would lisp “I’ll thcream and I’ll thcream til I make mythelf thick”.
VE day was the day the war ended and we had Victory in Europe.
The author of these stories was a Ms Richmal Crompton who lived just round the corner from Vib’s Mum and Dad in Chislehurst and I often think that the place that Jumble (the mongrel dog) and the Outlaws roamed in was Petts Wood that we walked in many times.
The old man described at the very start was based heavily on Vib’s Dad, George Clark OBE, who did indeed wear khaki shorts held up with braces and had grey socks and invariably muddy shoes from his latest walk. The only embellishment was the egg and bacon tie as George was not an MCC member.