This is the novel I'm working on for the Nanowrimo. Mr. Ralf popped up in my mind one day while I was walking by Regent's Canal. He bagged me to give him voice since then. 
In a nutshell, the short story of a man, his bad leg and a mysterious walking-stick. 

Mr. Ralf was a very handsome soldier, long time ago. We are talking about his 20's. He was always a step ahead of his friends and was very proud of the bushy moustache that made him look wiser. But his right leg always let him down since 1943 when a bullet decided to crash his knee and hopes. Not sparing a single tear on the accident - he was a wise man after all - one day, during a family dinner, he asked for silence and announced: "Mother, father, lovely Mia tomorrow I'll leave this welcoming house to go to Africa.”

Mia, his 15-yrs old sister, buried the face behind the large pale-blue bow pinned on the neck of her dress and cried. His mother collapsed on the chair and his father called the servants: "Dinner's done, you can now clear the table." Then looked at Ralf as he was only another gentleman of the Cigar Club who was now saying goodbye before undertaking a long but luxury safari. 

  “Please, take some time to write a note for the Evening Gazette, would you Ralf? I shall use your room for one of those medicine students.” His father had never called him son, or probably he did but that was long time ago.

Ralf nodded, bowed and turned to his mother. Shook a crystal vial of peppermint essence under her nose to wake her up, kissed her sister goodbye and left the room. Heading upstairs where his bedroom was, the voice of his father echoed Ralf’s steps. Cool and collected he was asking wife and daughter to show some dignity: “He’s a grown man and it is for his best to leave behind the warmth of the home. Chin up! He’ll be fine. I’ve done the same when I was his age.” But nothing seemed to cheer up the women who kept sobbing and crying Ralf’s name until the morning after when he walked out the main door.

  “Goodbye mother, I will write you a letter every month. Remember me in your night prayers. Sweet Mia, you’ll be my guardian angel and I promise to get something special for you in every place I’ll visit. Father…”

The two men were one in front of the other; if Ralf hadn’t been much younger - his skin smoother and his eyes brighter - he would have been the exact reflection of his father. They nodded at the same time and his father surprised him putting a hand on his shoulder: “I’ll make sure you receive part of the rent of your room.”

Surprise gone, Ralf thanked him and, grabbed the brown leather luggages, marched down the alley of his father’s villa.

Ralf didn’t fly. He’s always preferred ships and tanks. On solid ground or in the wide ocean, those were the right places to die. Not at midair, like a seagull. And a train sounded like a good compromise to start with his journey.

Waiting on the platform no.5 he checked his itinerary and contacts list. An old friend, George, decided to move his family to Africa after his second new-born because his son deserved a real giraffe not a stuffed toy. And because of his gambling debts.
Despite the weather, Ralf stuffed his luggage with linen trousers and light shirts. The straw hat he was proudly wearing that morning clashed with the grey sky and wasn’t a great shield against winter time; but he had always imagined Africa as a land of fire and flames and short instants of suffering because of the cold were nothing for his soldier soul.

A child stopped next to him and broke his stream of consciousness: “Hello, I’m taking the train for the first time with my daddy. Where is your daddy?”

Ralf looked down at her but all he saw was a fluffy, white hood and a pair of black, shiny boots. 

  “Lilian, how many times I have to tell you? Do always hold my hand and…Oh God, I am so sorry…” A man on his late 30’s braked in front of Ralf, panting and gasping. 

Ralf smiled: “No need to be. I bet she is just exciting for her new adventure. I am on an adventure too.” And he bended over to look her in the eyes. “Good luck for yours, missy.”

   “Aren’t you cold with only that clothes on?” she sounded genuinely worried but before Ralf could replied her dad grasped her hand, nodded to Ralf and walked away on the opposite direction. She waved from afar with still a preoccupied expression on her face.

The image of a young boy in tears and of his father dragging him away from a playground popped in Ralf’s mind but rapidly rolled away, hit by the train that stopped on the platform.

Attention please. The train now approaching is to….

That voice was a sudden shower of fresh air and new expectations for Ralf who stepped in his carriage searching for his seat. The long walk to the station along with the icy-cold breeze had proved his knee very much and now he felt it pulsing and aching. His face couldn’t hide the pain.

  “I told you that your clothes were not appropriate. My daddy say they can give me a blanket if I’m cold; you can do the same.” 

The child of the platform and her dad were seating only a couple of raws in front of Ralf’s and she was knelt on her seat, with the arms crossed on the headrest.

   “Lilian, please, leave the gentleman alone.” Her father looked embarrassed when leaned out of his seat.

   “I’m so sorry, usually she is not so chatty with people she doesn’t know. I’ll ask if they can find us another seat.”

Ralf smiled back.

    “I’m sure they would but honestly your daughter is the only happy face I’ve been seeing all day. It’s not usual to see children running around in this station.”

Lilian turned to her father triumphant as Ralf’s words had justified her behaviour once and for all. The train whistled and suddenly moved; Lilian lost her balance but promptly her father caught her before she fell. She giggled filling the carriage with her contagious joy.

   “I’ll speak you later Mr…oh, right, my name’s Lilian Roger Fleur. My mother always says that is well educated introducing yourself with your full name but mine it’s very long.” Black ringlets covered part of her face when she popped out of her seat once again.

      “That is a beautiful name Miss Lilian. I’m Ralf, just Ralf.”

      “Very nice to meet you Mr. Just Ralf.” 

Her father’s hand invited Lilian to sit properly while him and half of the entire carriage disappeared behind the newspaper. 

The train proceeded fast but didn’t prevent Ralf’s mind to run free up and down the hills, outside the window.