MACDONALDS TONIGHT

By Bob French

They sat close together on their settee with a thick blanket over their knees, facing the small unlit fireplace, and laughed at the hundreds of photographs they had kept in a large box of the friends they had worked with over the past 39 years.

Daphanie, in her day, had been a beautiful woman, whilst Louis, had been a tough weather-beaten young man who had made his living as a Corsican bandit.

They first came to know each other when Louis arrived in England as an eight-year-old immigrant and on his first day at school was picked on because he was different.  Daphanie stood up for him and soon they were inseparable.  When they graduated to secondary school, their roles reverse and Louis protected her from the conceited boys who thought that she was fair game.

Daphanie went on to university, then medical college to be a doctor, whilst Louis, after a few years doing odd jobs, returned to his home country and took up the profession of his father and his father before him; as a bandit.

Twenty years had passed; Daphanie, had become bored with the NHS and decided to go and work for Medecins Sans Frontiers and had thoroughly enjoyed it.  She had worked in South Sudan, the Congo, and now, on her last tour before retiring, she found herself in the war-torn country of Yemen.

Louis had worked with his father, before becoming bored with running from the Gendarme, and crossed over to the Island of Elba where a United Nations team was helping the people after an earthquake.  Because of his enthusiasm and dedication to helping those in need, they asked him to join them.  He too, travelled the war-torn countries of Africa and the Middle East until his unit was assigned to Yemen.

It was on a hot sticky afternoon when the village of Albuqa, suddenly came under attack from bandits from the north. Louis and the men from his section quickly started to defend the village. 

He watched in horror as a young boy dashed from the secondary school across the open ground.  Bullets hit him and spun him around like a rag doll.  Without thinking Louis dropped his weapon and sprinted out into the open, picked up the wounded boy, and raced back to cover. Within half an hour the government helicopters had arrived and were forcing the bandits back over the border.  Louis knew that there was a hospital in the village of Aleshash and on a good day it would take just under two hours to reach, but he knew that the old rations truck would take at least three.

He arrived just as it was getting dark and the medical staff quickly took care of the boy.  He asked where he could get a drink of water and was directed to the hospital rest area.  As Louis eased himself into one of the battered leather chairs, the door opened and a woman entered and started to remove her surgical gown.  As she took off her mask she glanced at Louis, then gave a scream of delight.

““Louis! Louis where have you been? What are you doing here?”

Within seconds, they were holding each other closely, not wishing to release each other.  It was then they realised how much feeling they had for each other.

Daphanie eased back from Louis and stared into his dark brown eyes. “God I have missed you.”  Then she kissed him. 

Just then a security guard entered the room.

“Are you the man who brought the young lad in?”

“Yes Sir.  He was wounded by bandits from the north who raided our station.”

The security.  “Your first +

aider said that you ran out into the middle of a fire-fight, picked up the boy and took him to cover. Is this right?”

Louis turned to Daphanie. “Will he be alright?”

“Yes Louis, thanks to you I was able to take out the bullets and patch him up.  We’ll need to keep him in for a week or more, but I don’t see why he can’t lead a normal life after that.  But tell me all about yourself?  Where have you been?”

Louis gently held her hand and guided her to the bench and began to explain how he had joined the United Nations Team and where he had been.  When he’d finished Daphanie hugged him.

Louis telephoned his base and explained that the old rations truck had broken down and would take at least three days to fix.  His boss was happy for Louis to stay but wanted his first aider back soonest.

The following day four battered army jeeps rolled into the compound.  Before the guards could ask who they were, six bodyguards stepped out of the vehicles and cordoned off the area.  Then a tall, distinguished-looking Yemini jumped down from a jeep and walked towards the hospital entrance.

A security guard intercepted him and demanded to know who he was and what did he want?

The man spoke reasonable English. “I wish to speak with the Doctor who saved the life of the boy from the school at Albuqa.”  Just then Daphanie stepped out from the tent and, knowing how the Yemini communicated, spoke softly to the man.

“Salam Malecom. Can I help you?”

The tall man stared at Daphanie.  I wish to speak to the Doctor who save my son.”

“That would be me.”

His expression instantly changed; his voice became harsh. “You are a woman.  Why is there no man doctor to treat my son?”

Daphanie smiled. “I’m sorry, but throughout the civilized world, a doctor is a doctor no mater their sex.  I can assure you that I have taken great care of your son.”

I also want to see the man who saved my son from those baboons from the north and brought him to your hospital.”

Louis had seen the cavalcade arrive and slowly started to make his way towards the main hospital tent.  As he approached, he saw Daphanie speaking to the tall man, then suddenly point towards him. Suddenly two heavily armed men grabbed his arms and propelled him towards their leader.

The tall man stared at Louis, then nodded.  “I am told that you risked your life to save my son?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Why?  He is not of your race.”

“My job is to help and care for people, regardless.  Your son was wounded and needed help.”  Louis just shrugged his shoulders as though to say ‘what did you expect me to do?’

Daphanie quietly interrupted.  “Could I have your name please?”

The tall man became cautious.  “Why do you need my name?”

“So that I can give your son his name.  At present, he is known to us as John Doe, number 25.”

The man smiled, then nodded.  “It is Sheik Mahammad, Abdul Aziz Al-Marabak.”

Louis instantly recognized the name and bowed his head.

“We are pleased to be of service, Sheik Marabak.”

Sheik Marabak started to move towards the entrance. “Now, please show me my son.”

“No!”

Sheik Marabak stopped, spun around, and stared at Daphanie, with anger in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you can not see your son dressed like that.”  She nodded to his dirty and dusty clothing and greasy ammunition belt hung across his chest. “Louis, please escort the Sheik to the changing room and have him change into gowns before he sees his son.”

Sheik Marabak instantly understood what she was demanding, then barked instructions for his men to wait outside. 

The Sheik spent half an hour with his son before he reappeared dressed in his desert clothing.

“Doctor. I wish to show my thanks and appreciation for saving my son’s life.”

Daphanie could see the gratitude in his eyes and spoke gently to him. “I’m sorry but we are not permitted to accept gifts from those we assist. Those are the rules.”

The Sheik looked at her for a while then spoke. “When do you and this man leave my country?”

Daphanie was suddenly confused by the question.  “Leave?”

“Yes, I am sure you both do not intend to stay in my country for the rest of your days?”

“Louis nodded.  Sorry, my Sheik.  We will end our tour and retire to England together in five months’ time.” Daphanie smiled at Louis’s decision to come and live with her in England.

The Sheik spoke quickly to one of his officers, who provided a small card and pen.  He wrote something on the back of the card and handed it to Louis.  “When you both finally settle down and you are in need of help, call this number.

They returned to England and bought a little cottage in Manningtree and survived on their meagre pensions.  They didn’t have a TV and spent many happy hours in the evenings going through the large box of photographs of the people they had served with and the memories associated with them.

“Daphanie suddenly picked up the card Sheik Marabak had given them. Eight months ago.  She looked at Louis.  “Do you remember what he said. “if we needed help.”

The following morning Daphanie called the Yemeni embassy and was put through to the Charge de Affair, who politely invited them up to London.

They no sooner entered the embassy door when the Charge de Affair greeted them and ushered them into the Ambassador.

“Doctor Daphanie and Mr. Louis, how pleased I am to see you.  I have been instructed by Sheik Mahammad, Abdul Aziz Al-Marabak, the President of Yemen, to firstly award you both the Most Sacred Order of the Golden Mountain and secondly to offer you any assistance we can.

They stood in a trance as the Ambassador draped the brightly coloured ribbon, with the large gold star around their necks.  “Now, I think it is time for a cup of tea?”

Once seated, the Ambassador spoke. “Now you are probably wondering what we mean by ‘help in any way.”

Daphanie nodded. “Yes, we are not really sure what you mean.”

My government would like to pay, no reward you both for saving the President’s son, who by the way got into Oxford, thanks to.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“Now to business.  We will pay into your account the sum of 150 each month until you pass away.”

Louis, who had remained silent so far, quietly spoke to Daphanie.  “A hundred and fifty pounds would help us a lot.  We could even get a TV.”

The Ambassador smiled; “No, No you misunderstand me.  One thousand five hundred pounds each month.”

They both sat there stunned.  Daphanie spoke first. “Sir, that is rather a lot of money.”

“For saving the life of one’s eldest son in my county is priceless Doctor.  If you need more, then you must call me and I shall arrange things.  These are the instructions of my President.

On the train home, Louis asked Daphanie what she was thinking.    She didn’t answer him straight away then, smiled, “let’s have a MacDonalds tonight.”

Copyright Bob French