Loose Lips Sink Ships

July 12th 1919

Here we go, lad!" Leighton thrust a bowl of greenish broth in front of Wyatt.

"Better eat up, food aint so scarce no more, down with the ration book and gladly slow" He jested, waving his fist above his head in excitement.
"The first thing I did when I got back from the front was have me Ma' whip up the greasiest bacon sandwich!"

"Was it worth it" Wyatt questioned whilst forcing the broth between his lips.

"Well you see she's never been much of a cook, ended up crucifying the bacon which she placed between two stale slabs o' bread, but beggars can't be choosers. Sure beats Bully beef!"

"Mouthwatering" Wyatt replied, dropping his rustic spoon back into the bowl and pushing it aside after the thought of Bully beef; a finely minced meat encased by a thick coating of slimy gelatin, like that of which you would feed a hound.

"Think I cracked a tooth or two after my first bite" Leighton laughed, though the cheer was not reciprocated as he looks toward his friend who's head tilt down once more toward the ground, similarly succumb to pain and sadness.

"Was wrong, did I say something wrong?" Leighton asked, trying to sympathise but evidently struggling to hide the slight irritation in his voice.
"No, of course not, sorry Leighton its nothing" Wyatt looked up, falsely reassuring his friend.
"If you say so roger, well I best be off "
Leighton turned toward the hallway and eagerly grabbed for his coat draped across the sofa.
As he strode towards the front hall he turned once more, extracting a gold lined card from his trench coat, handing it to Wyatt he nodded softly " We'd be glad to see you there boyo." following, he swiftly took his leave.

Staring down at the card of which read;

You are cordially invited to an evening of celebration amongst friends
Proceedings start 9 pm onwards, July 15th
33 Harding Park, Greater London, S04 908
We hope to see you there!
                  Regards, The Staffords

Wyatt chuckled to himself bewildered by how far Leightons intellect had progressed that he could devise such an invitation of intellect, it became clear to him he no longer knew his friend, not as he did then, before...

15th July 8:50 pm

Surrounded by the gentleman in fine suits, with top hats of fur plush a contrast to the steel helmets which had previously been clung to there heads; Wyatt made his way toward the door of Leighton's new home. An air of finesse surrounded it, the greatest of architecture, from the cream pillars which held it up to the whitely defined brick's which protected those inside. Leighton's previous house had been bombed during the war everything inside had perished. Wyatt pondered a moment how his friend had come to such prosperity given that the Stafford's had always been poor, often Wyatt had even aided them with paying bills here and there.

He proceeds to knock and is welcomed in by a butler who offers his hand for Wyatt's coat. He seems shocked to find the lack of a hat of any kind, as though it be an act of pure barbarity.

"Wyatt you old slacker, you made it" A familiar Irish voice beckons from his rear. Leighton charges forward dressed in dinner wear, a rare sight indeed from his days of suspenders and flat caps. "By Jove Leighton, i was starting to think I'd wandered into the wrong place, this is certainly a step up from your previous abode".

"Hmm, funny story that boyo, I have one person to thank for all this and id like you to meet em, Wyatt..."

Leighton gestures at a young women to come over.

"This is my wife, Maria"

"I say congratulations are in hand old friend, Lady Stafford,a pleasure."

The girl interrupts, her voice slicing through that of Wyatt like a knife to butter " So this is the famous Wyatt, not exactly the Godly looking angel my husband insisted, but a vision of wonder none the less" She lets out a  snippet of laughter between her heavily rouged lips.

"Would you have me embarrassed in front of him my love" Leighton whispers, heavily blushing.

"I needn't embarrass you Leighton you do that yourself" she laughs once more and turns her back as to rejoin society, returning to the temptations of fine wine and company.

Leighton turns to Wyatt "She was serving as a nurse at a casualty clearing station, treated my shot wound in my foot. One thing led to another and here we are, turns out her Pop's is pretty well off, insisted i could only marry his daughter if i were to accept the house and lifestyle he wants for her, I'm certainly not complaining, I've been dining with the top of them Wyatt, the top I tell You." 

"You always were one for a cheesy love story Stafford"

"Bugger off James, you're on my soil now boy so you watch that wagging tongue of yours" They laugh in sync, the first honest laugh.

"I must go boyo else she'll have me boiled and served as supper, we've assigned you a seat at the table next to the old Vicar, so you'll be comfortable"

Wyatt smiles. "Oh, and could you ask the maid to put this up with Charley's things in his room" Wyatt takes the object from his hand and searches for a maid to carry out the task. The night passes quickly, wine flows and the conversation grows sparse. The thought of food fills the heads of every guest as they stare like vultures at the empty tables, pondering when their stomachs will be once again satisfied. And with the delightful ring of glass, they swarmed to table in their hundreds, as though they charge toward the enemy trench onto No man's land and vacate themselves at the tables of delicacy.

The piercing ring of a fork to glass persists once more, followed by Leighton heavy voice muffled by the victoria sponge he had shovelled into his mouth beforehand.

"Ladies, gents, thank you kindly for actually showing up" The vultures reciprocate with a laugh "Me and Maria couldn't be more grateful for all of your support in these passing years. We have faced many struggles but with the help of you all, we were able to pull ourselves back up and now more than ever we are happy, even if it does mean waking up every morning to this blasted women chastising me for my snoring, well... maria and I hope that you will all join us in further celebration as we...together welcome a Stafford jr into this sodded world." An array of claps and whistles echo amongst the room, Wyatt finds his throat lodged with a coarse potato, frantically trying to swallow the shock. This was the moment Wyatt realised that the world was moving forward, and he not with it. His body curdled in a heat surprise, a feeling he did not favour. He felt his face redden and promptly stood to his feet knocking undrunk wine onto his leg. Out of embarrassment, he withdrew himself from the room. He wandered his way into a small study room at the end of a long corridor. Pulling dusted books from an unkempt shelf of literary pages from the most famous of prodigies to what looked to be diaries, mixed with the blood sweat and toil of war. Through the clutter, he caught sight of a photo frame and walked closer to inspect it. A smile forced itself upon his face and he felt a sudden exhilaration as held in his hand a mere reflection of himself, surrounded by his friends, all tucked soundly in their uniforms, ready; or so they believed for war...