(A true story, which might have a happy ending)

Once upon a time there was a city which was struck by a terrible plague. Many died – and even more lost friends and relatives that they loved. Almost everyone found it harder to pay the bills but especially people who didn’t earn much to begin with. People working in bars and restaurants, theatres and  concert halls. All those places –  in fact – that made life worth living for everyone else.

In the middle of the city was a hospital full of doctors, nurses, technicians, cleaners, porters and administrators. They all worked very hard indeed during the plague. Every Thursday the citizens would come out thank them. Some of the citizens even called them ‘NHS heroes’, which embarrassed them.

Close to the hospital was a nice bar called ‘Vaulty Towers’. The name was a pun. Actually it was a double pun – because just over the road was ‘The Vaults’ theatre. The bar was very popular with the actors, even though they did not have much money (for the reasons I’ve explained). Some hospital staff used to go there, too.

The plague went on for a long, long time. One day – nearly two years after it had started – a lady came into ‘Vaulty Towers’. She was smart, well-spoken and sober. She ordered two large glasses of good red wine from Rose, who worked behind the bar.

While Rose poured the wine, the customer passed her bank card over a reader on the counter. But she had not been looking closely. It was the wrong card reader.  Instead of paying for her wine, the customer had accidentally donated £3 to Crisis at Christmas.

When she realised her mistake, the lady was angry. She told Rose to take £3 from the cost of the drinks. Rose was quite new but explained politely that she could not do that. The customer became very angry indeed. ‘I work for the NHS!’, she shouted. ‘I don’t want to give money to charity! I do enough! Give me my money back! I spend my time saving people like you!’. Rose wondered what ‘people like you’ were like.

Some of the other customers enjoying a quiet drink were a bit sorry for the lady. Several offered to give her £3. She refused. ‘I want these people to give me my money back!’, she shouted. The manager of the bar came over. ‘I’m very sorry, but I cannot give you money out of the till,’ he said, as he emptied a jar of coins onto the counter. ‘ If you don’t want to give a donation to Crisis at Christmas, please repay yourself with £3 from the staff tips’.

Everyone went a bit quiet as the lady counted out £3 in five and ten pence pieces. She put the money in her purse and then she reached for her glasses of wine. But the manager stopped her. ‘I’m sorry but you have not paid for these’, he said. ‘Please leave now’. And she did.

(Optional Happy Ending)

When the staff at the hospital learnt about this story, they felt bad. As ‘NHS heroes’, they knew that many, many other people had been heroic during the plague. They also knew that a good reputation is much more easily lost than won. (And, to be honest, they worried that ‘Vaulty Towers heroes’ might think ‘NHS heroes’ a bit less heroic than before).

So some doctors and nurses from the hospital went over to Vaulty Towers for a drink. Some used the card reader there to make donations to Crisis at Christmas. One or two even said ‘Merry Christmas’ to Rose and put a few pence in the tip jar. ‘Merry Christmas to all heroes, everywhere’, they said.

And the moral of this story is…….obvious.

The Good Soldier. December 2021.