The Girl I Knew Somewhere

‘As you know, we’re moving tomorrow, Mr Henry.’

Mrs Devlin stands at my doorstep, hesitates, then continues talking.

‘With David retiring we’re moving to the coast to be nearer Jenny and her family. There’s a nice young couple moving in. And… we’ll miss you Mr Henry. We said a special prayer last night that you… be happy.’ And she smiles.

Special prayer. That do-goodery Christian piety of the Devlins had grated on me over the years. They seemed to view me as a lost, lonely old soul needing saved. Still, overall I didn’t really mind them. True, we’d had our past run-ins. Usually about their kids, Jenny and Tommy, kicking their balls into my garden or playing their loud screechy games outside my house. But as I stand there I get a sudden flash of memories. Of young Tommy shouting ‘Look Mister Hendry!’ from the top of my apple tree. Of Jenny proudly showing me the national gymnastics trophy she won when she was eleven. Of the cake they brought to my door