All I seem to be doing recently is apologising but here is another.
Real life has taken over for a while and I really have not had the time to write. Having said that, I have had time to think and I now know exactly how this story is going, I just hope you enjoy it.
As always, all credit must go to the genius of Ray Galton and the late Alan Simpson. Thank you for all the laughs gentlemen.
This is Chapter 13, good thing I'm not superstitious.
The girls were stunned when the boys got back and told them about their encounter with Albert.
"How on earth has he managed all these years?" Asked Louise. "And how has he turned out to be so nice?" The others nodded, they were all very fond of Harold, especially the girls.
"He's always been the same" Said Bert who was busy handing out teas and coffees to the group. "Ever since he was a kid. He never got into any fights, and god knows he was tormented enough over his dad being a totter. Albert had him out on the cart with him as soon as he was six. You can imagine what of life, I've never seen him so happy since he met you."
"Better late than never." Said Pete. "I'm glad we were able to help."
"Do you think perhaps we shouldn't mention this to Harry?" Said Yvonne. "I would hate to hurt his feelings if he thought we had been talking about him. It's bad enough for him as it is now we know what his life has been like." There were murmurs of agreement just as Harold came into the café.
"Hello Harry." Said Jan. "The boys were just agreeing with me how beautiful Hercules is."
"He's a fine-looking horse Harry." Said Roger. "You've done a great job looking after him." Harold smiled a little sadly.
"It was always my job to groom him and feed him, even before I ran the cart. I have always told him all my troubles, my dreams too."
"He clearly loves you." Said Stuart. "There are members of my family who aren't as pleased to see me as he was to see you." This brought a real smile to Harold's face.
"At least I know he is going to be well looked after for the rest of his life, and I can visit him whenever I like." He went to go upstairs then turned to look at the boys and said simply. "Thanks."
The visit to Oildrum Lane was never mentioned again, for which Harold was truly grateful. He had been mortified by the way his father had behaved while his friends were there, thinking they would not want to know him once they knew from where he had come. They had proved to be true friends, treating him the way they always had.
Life went on, and it was good. He went to work, which he loved; he helped in the café, which meant meeting people; he went to art college, where he had discovered quite a talent for drawing and sketching.
Occasionally Francois would ask him to pose if the booked model didn't turn up, now he was more comfortable he was happy to do this and rather enjoyed it
He had mentioned moving out of his room above the café but Bert had waved off his suggestion.
"I like having you here Harold, you are good company." Adding with a wink. "And you bring your friends in."
It was almost a year later when Harold was woken by Bert banging on his door.
"Harold, get up. There's someone to see you. Come down as soon as you are dressed. Hurry."
Still half asleep Harold came down to the café and was shocked to see two policemen looking very solemn.
"Mr Steptoe? Mr Harold Steptoe?"
"I am Harold Steptoe."
"You better sit down son." Said Bert. White faced, Harold sat down and looked up at the policemen.
"Mr Steptoe, I am very sorry to have to tell you your father is dead."