Written by local resident, Heather Cole
The early morning frost crunched beneath Elizabeth’s feet as she made her way to the top of Wotton Hill and admired the view. As usual, it was breathtaking, the patchwork of fields and villages among the rolling hills and valleys stretching down to the silvery River Severn, snaking its way along the Vale.
Then she saw him, his tall, ever handsome frame sitting on their favourite bench looking out towards Kingswood. She quickened her step, almost running in her haste to be with him.
“Hello Lizzie, I am so pleased you came.”
“Hello Tom,” she replied, her voice slightly unsteady. “I haven’t seen you for ages. It’s good to see you too.” She paused and added quietly, “Nobody knows I am here. They wouldn’t understand.”
“I know Lizzie. It’s okay.”
They sat silently together, appreciating each other’s company as the sun rose steadily through the blue sky.
“It’s always so beautiful up here,” Elizabeth remarked.
“Not as beautiful as you Lizzie,” responded Tom.
“Oh, stop it Mr Smooth!” She laughed, surprising herself with the sudden joy. She hadn’t felt joy for a long time.
“It’s Christmas Eve Lizzie. I am guessing the family is waiting for you.”
“Yes, all the usual madness. I had to escape up here first. And I am so glad you are here.”
Suddenly their moment was disturbed by a dog, barking as it approached the bench.”
“I must go now Lizzie. I’m sorry. I love you. Have a great Christmas.”
Elizabeth swallowed her disappointment, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“I love you too,” she whispered as he disappeared around the wall.
She recognised the dog, Archie, from down the road, and his owner Molly, following in his wake.
“Archie! Stop barking, what is wrong with you today? Oh, hi Mrs Walker, sorry to disturb you.” Molly paused as she looked at Elizabeth’s tearstained face, then spoke more softly. “Hey, are you OK? Would you like some company? Perhaps we could walk back to town together”
Elizabeth could only nod, choking back her emotions as she traced the name on the bench’s plaque.
‘In memory of Thomas Walker. 1942 – 2023. Greatly missed by Elizabeth.’
She slowly rose from her seat. She knew Tom was with her in spirit. Christmas could begin now.