It had been a long night pervaded with silence, quiescence and inactivity as Private John Makepeace returned home from his sentry duty in the remote pillbox just outside Hungerford. As a serving commissioned private in the Berkshire Regiment John’s role was to protect the railway and canal in the event of a German invasion from his vantage point above Dunmill lock, commanding a good view of the Kennet and Avon canal and the London to Penzance Great Western Railway that sliced through the common land. Situated some two miles from the town centre of Hungerford the pillbox was in a remote location and the ‘powers that be’ could only spare one soldier from their meagre forces to guard these lines of communication and transportation. His main duties were to alert headquarters of any strange happenings and to maintain the defensive equipment in full working order. Each shift lasted twelve hours, which left a long time for inactivity and dreaming.

The large strategic emplacement was made in late 1939 out of reinforced concrete and capped with London brick. It had only one entrance, consisting of a thick steel door and inside there were three rooms; one larger where the three-inch cannon was located and two smaller rooms for the machine guns and ammunition store. There were no other facilities so light was provided by a hurricane lamp, the radio was powered by a large accumulator and the outside toilet was basically a hole in the ground. The three-inch cannon covered the railway approach and the two machine guns covered a two-mile stretch of the canal and single-track approach road. It was an emplacement that had been built with care and blended well into the Berkshire countryside.

John could not sleep when he returned to his billet house in the High Street as the quiet market town was beginning to wake up from its slumber and the environmental noise was building rapidly. As John lay in his uncomfortable bed he reconsidered a thought that had been forming in his mind. He had reached a point in his commission when he desperately needed a change. He had approached his superior officer and requested a transfer to another duty. His request was denied and his current placement was extended for a further two months to prove a banal point. John was not a coward by nature and had volunteered for active service when war broke out. It was a time when countries were either providing peace with friendship whilst others were arming for war. He felt that he was wasting his talents and skills being a lone sentry and wanted to find a way out to work on greater things. There was only one possible option; he would have to desert. He had made up his mind and was going to stick to his original plan. He would have to lie low for a while and jump ship for America where he hoped to settle down and forget about the lousy, phoney war. He fell into a troubled sleep filled with guilt, fear and anticipation of reprisal.

Mark and Sally Prescott had been married for three years and owned a restaurant in Esher, Surrey. They had built up the business gradually and provided the finest cuisine for the locality. Their restaurant, Café Noir, could seat sixty people and their menu was truly eclectic using only the finest, fresh ingredients. Mark was the Chef du Maison and Sally was responsible for the front of house and general ordering. They were fairly content but desperately wanted a new challenge to improve themselves.

One day Mark and Sally were having breakfast in the restaurant when Sally spotted something in Christies Monthly (a catering trade magazine).

"Mark, this looks interesting!" commented Sally as she finished her mouthful of toast.

"What’s that, darling?" asked Mark spreading jam thickly onto his croissant.

"There’s a very interesting property for sale. It would require a significant conversion and installation of all services and equipment," she continued, "Only £28,000, a real bargain."

"You’re not thinking what I am thinking?" Mark added swallowing his last mouthful.

"Look, we’re both bored here and we ought to sell up whilst the business is on top and before complacency sets in. Here, have a look, see what you think," she said pushing the magazine forcibly across the table.

"That looks a nice restaurant. Its got a good-sized dining area and a children’s play area. Why does it need so much restoration?"

"No, not that one. Look, here!" she laughed.

Mark’s eyes scanned the page and he went very quiet, deep in thought.

"What do you think? Is it a great enough challenge for us?"

Once again Mark remained silent. "Say something, please Mark!"

He looked up.

"From the money we would get for this place we could convert the pillbox into a lovely, unique restaurant as well as providing all the new equipment, buying another house with a little left over. What would we call the place? There’s nothing like it in the country and it should generate quite a lot of interest," he said making no attempt to hide his obvious interest and excitement.

"You really are serious about this venture. Well it will require a lot of planning and we will need to find a good buyer for this place. Nothing is impossible but we should not rush into this," Sally added.

"This is the challenge I have been waiting for. Let’s go for it, girl!"

Darkness was falling as John returned to his solitary pillbox. After unlocking the heavy steel door he lit the army issue hurricane lamp and checked the tools of war. All were functioning properly and he returned to a small hole in the wall that he had been excavating during the past month. Tonight was his last night as a commissioned private, he was going to dissolve into the night and head for Southampton. There was just one task left to do. He reached for his identity tag from behind his neck and removed it. He placed it into the small hole and started to fill the cavity with freshly mixed concrete, carefully matching it for colour and consistency. By morning the cement would be dry and invisible to the naked eye. He placed an old Guy Fawkes dummy in one of the gun slots and carefully adjusted the spare uniform it was wearing. He turned on the radio to create a little bit of noise and sneaked out of the emplacement heading for the back road to Newbury. John had a twelve-hour start before his disappearance would be discovered and he planned to catch the first train from Newbury to Southampton and from there a ship to a new life.

Sally drove their Range Rover up the steep slope to the pillbox, now their own property with full planning permission to convert it into a restaurant and tea-room. They had also purchased the second pillbox that was constructed towards the end of the war (1944) with a view to convert it into a museum / exhibition area displaying a variety of war memorabilia. Mark was already on site talking with their architect and builder. Sally looked at the dilapidated, wartime accommodation with realistic eyes. The concrete was peeling away from the internal walls and many of the bricks had been shattered through repeated frost damage to the exterior. These features would need to be replaced. The floor was covered in cowpats, as the local cows had used the building for shelter during wet and cold weather. Sally could see the potential and started to formulate her ideas.

By the end of the week Mark and Sally had moved into their new house at Froxfield and their plans were completed. The main pillbox was going to house the restaurant, kitchen and bar. The smaller, newer pillbox was going to contain the wartime artefacts, numerous display boards and the history of the gun emplacements including their role in the Second World War. The furniture would be modern, in the café style and the décor would reflect the duller wartime colours but illuminated with the latest halogen spotlights. The patch of level ground outside the main entrance would be converted into a patio, BBQ area for use on warmer days. The conversion work would be completed in the winter months and the mains utilities installed at the same time. They hoped to open the ‘Last Sentinel’ restaurant by the following spring.

In November Sally was alone in the main pillbox stripping and cleaning the walls prior to replastering and painting. She was working in the new kitchen area, one of the smaller original rooms. As she was chipping away some of the decaying plaster, a great chunk fell away from the wall revealing a small, carefully carved cavity. She was not unduly worried as the damage was not structural and the wall was going to be replastered by the end of the week. She saw a small object reflecting light from inside the aperture. She cautiously put her hand in and pulled out a grimy necklace. Rinsing it in some water she revealed an identity tag and number, which was meaningless to her. She realised that it had to be post 1940’s as the building was erected then but she was puzzled by this discovery as it posed more questions than answers. When she showed it to Mark he suggested that they mount it in a display case to adorn the main restaurant with a true artefact. She agreed and it was one of the first features to be installed when the plastering and decorating was completed.

Sally was not a person who could be easily scared as she had a rational approach to all things both natural and supernatural. However when she would arrive at the Last Sentinel Restaurant in the early hours of the morning she could swear that she saw a soldier standing on guard by the man entrance. After parking the car the apparition would always disappear. She asked Mark if he had ever seen this ghostly apparition but he replied in the negative. Sally asked the locals who told her that various people have seen a soldier since the 1990’s guarding the pillbox. It was also reported to her that the soldier never speaks and only appears just after dusk and just before sunrise. The whole tale fascinated Sally and she decided that she would enjoy having this benign ghost, as it would add character to the place. Mark did not express an opinion on the matter indeed he couldn’t care less.

The day before the official opening of the Last Sentinel Sally was working alone in the kitchen preparing some vegetables and hors d’oeuvres when she heard the front door open. She walked out of the kitchen to see a young man dressed in an army uniform.

"Can I help you?" she inquired.

"Could I please have a cup of tea?" he asked politely.

"Well we don’t open until tomorrow but a cup of tea wouldn’t be too difficult. Sit down and I will bring it to you," she explained.

Sally went to the kitchen keeping an eye on the young soldier just in case. He was staring into the kitchen at the furthest wall looking for what? His stare unnerved her slightly but her strength of character pulled her through. Sally brought out two teas and asked if she could join him.

"Of course," he uttered trying to get the lid of the sugar bowl. "I haven’t seen one like this before!"

"Allow me. It always confuses people to begin with," Sally comforted. The soldier left his tea in front of him and viewed the room with interest.

"You really have done this up well. I wouldn’t recognise the place!" he added.

"Did you know this place when it was just a plain, old dilapidated pillbox?" she asked.

"Yes but it’s hard to recognise the features, they have changed so much."

"Are you from around here?"

"Yes, but I haven’t been inside this place for many years." Sally thought he must have played within the emplacement as a boy. As a child, being somewhat of a Tom Boy, she would have loved to play in such a place.

"I see you are from the Berkshire Regiment. Have you seen any action lately?"

"Not for a long time. I’ve had a little break from the excitement of army life and spent a long time in America."

"Whereabouts?"

"Boston. Such a lovely place."

They talked, almost as friends for nearly half and hour. When it came for him to leave he reached his hand into his pocket but Sally told him to ‘have it on the house’ and thanked him for their enjoyable conversation. As the soldier left his attention was drawn to the identity tag proudly displayed near the door. Sally saw him examine it in great detail and smile. After this he left silently through the glass door. She was rather taken aback as he had not drunk his tea. Was her tea that bad?

By June the restaurant was beginning to take off financially and the reservation book was full for the summer months. Sally and Mark had to employ new staff to cover the exhibition box, restaurant duties and to allow for some free time. The soldier would appear every other day and ask for the same cup of tea. He would never drink it yet they would always talk for about half an hour when the restaurant was at its quietest. Sally didn’t have the nerve to charge him for the non-drunk tea but one day in early July he left some money on the table leaving the restaurant in the same ritualistic way. She examined the money, a sixpence and three old penny coins dated 1938, 1940, 1939 and 1935. Sally thought this was strange but considered them an ideal new addition to their exhibition box.

Over the coming months the soldier exchanged several pieces of wartime memorabilia for his cups of tea. All the new additions were placed in the exhibition centre in pride of place and entertained and informed the visitors who passed through.

As time passed Mark and Sally wanted to move on again towards their next challenge as their task was now complete in Hungerford. They had found an old windmill on the Salisbury Road that they wanted to convert into a restaurant and offer accommodation to travellers. Their offer was accepted and they duly sold the Last Sentinel to a businessman from Manchester. On their last day of business they threw a large party for their friends and best customers offering the familiar eclectic cuisine for which they had become famous. When the last guests had left Mark tidied up and left Sally alone to lock up after finishing the books for the new owner. Sally sat alone in the restaurant reminiscing about their happy two years. There was a slight tapping sound at the door, which broke her train of thought. She looked up and saw her soldier. Without hesitation she opened the door and he came in. Sally poured him a coffee and they sat down together.

"I hear that you and Mark are leaving this place."

"Yes. We need to move on but we’ll take many happy memories with us," replied Sally closing her ledger book for the final time.

"You are lucky that you can move on. I have to remain here."

"Why?"

"I want you to work it out. Consider all the things we have talked about and put the facts together."

Sally thought deeply and the imaginary cartoon light bulb illuminated in her head.

"You are the lone sentry that has been haunting this place since the 1990’s. I’m so stupid but I have been rather distracted by the demands of this restaurant," she retorted.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No."

"I’m glad as I consider us to be true friends. I have been trapped here since my death in Boston in 1990. Something keeps me here but I don’t know what. If I could find a way to move on I would be the happiest ghost around!"

"Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened when you first visited this place. It may have something to do with it."

John went on to explain about his wartime desertion and Sally listened with interest and amazement. Sally could tell that he was ashamed of what he had done but understood that his imprisonment was some sort of punishment. But what could be keeping him here?

"What did you do with your identity tag?" she asked in consideration.

"I buried it in a hole in the wall. I could not risk being caught with it," he explained.

"I found an identity tag in the wall when we were gutting the kitchen walls. It’s over there on the wall near the door. I’ve seen you look at it!"

"I wondered if it was mine but was too ashamed to ask. But that’s immaterial now as I am doomed to walk this place for eternity." John placed his face despondently in his hands.

"Look, John, I’ve got an idea. It’s worth giving it a try." Sally walked over to the display case and removed the identity tag. "Come with me!"

Sally picked up her keys and turned off the lights. They walked outside and Sally locked the door for the last time.

"What now?" asked Private John Makepeace.

Sally threw the necklace high into the air and it landed with a slight plop in the deepest section of the canal just before the lock gates.

"What did you do that for?" pleaded John.

"I think you can go now. Your identity tag has been holding your guilt and by some freak of nature pulled you back here upon your death. Now that the tag has been removed from its hiding place the spell should be broken."

John looked perplexed in the moonlight and suddenly spoke, "I think you’re right. I feel strange inside as though something is pulling me away, yes I see a light above me and it wants me to follow it."

"Be brave John Makepeace. Until we meet again."

Sally turned away as her soldier dissolved into the dark moonlight and got into her Range Rover to make the journey to Froxfield for the final time.

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