The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  Back at the guesthouse, she snuck in without seeing Marian, and found Shelby in their room.

  “Where were you? You can’t just disappear into the night, in a strange city. What was I supposed to do? I had to get a taxi back here by myself.”

  For a moment there, she’d thought that Shelby might’ve been worried about her. Should have known better. “Can we just not talk about it, please?” She didn’t want to relive her rejection. What she was about to do was chastening enough. She got herself ready for a big slice of humble pie. “There’s something we do need to talk about, though.”

  Shelby looked wary. “I suppose so.”

  “I know that news was a shock. I felt the same when Mum told me. And maybe I should have told you before now.”

  “Huh. Do you think?”

  Cady ignored the tone. “I don’t know. But we have three months here, just for ourselves. The trip of a lifetime. We can’t fall to pieces in the first forty-eight hours.”

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Shelby pointed out.

  She let that slide. “The other thing is…don’t tell Dad, please. Just let it be. I mean, don’t you think he’s been through enough lately?”

  “Well...” She frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I suppose you’re right.”

  “Thank you,” Cady said, with relief. “We really don’t need to find our biological father. Let’s just enjoy our holiday.”

  Shelby sighed. “I was really hoping they’d invite me on the bus. I mean us,” she added hastily.

  “Well, we were hardly a tempting prospect after that little drama.” She sat down on the bed opposite her sister. “Will we be able to make this work? I mean, we kind of have to.”

  “Go hard or go home?”

  “Pretty much. And I do not want to go home.”

  With their dad settled in at Ingleside Heights, the little house in Peckham Rye was empty, waiting for the estate agent to find a buyer. Her things were in storage, and someone else was wearing the mumsy blue uniform to her bank job every day. She’d have to go back home eventually, maybe even to the bank. These days a job was a job, and the manager had promised there’d be one there for her, if she wanted it. She didn’t think she’d want it, but she might have to take it, and be grateful for it. She couldn’t fritter away her mother’s money, wherever it was from. She had to use it for something good—like this adventure, then maybe the deposit on a little flat when they got back. But she didn’t want to go home until they’d made every one of these days count.

  “Me neither,” Shelby said emphatically. Her expression finally softened, and she threw a pillow across at Cady. “I hate you.”

  They were back on track—for now, anyway. The father question was settled, and they could get on with their trip.

  Cady laughed. “I hate you too. And I’m sorry you didn’t get your bus invitation.”

  And, just quietly, relieved. Okay, she’d been doing a pretty good job of faking her new-start boldness. But she wasn’t keen to fake being okay with the big fat ‘no thank you’ she’d just got from Reid. After all her time as a house mouse, and the let-down of Jeremy, her first time back out at bat had been a fall-in-the-dirt strikeout.

  Eight

  The next morning, Marian was waiting when they went down to breakfast.

  “I saw you on the news last night,” she told Cady. “Nice job.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, blushing a little. “It was totally unexpected.”

  “Well, you did great,” she said, laying a little hand-written card in front of each of them. “Okay, so this is our Sunday menu.”

  Inside a border of swirly flowers, bugs and stars was a list of three items—cornmeal blueberry pancakes, organic buckwheat granola, and breakfast burrito with free-range eggs.

  “Ooh, a real California breakfast,” Cady said, thinking how delicious it all sounded.

  Marian chuckled. “Oh no, that’s not on the menu. Not officially, anyway.” The girls looked at her, puzzled, so she explained. “A California breakfast has nothing to do with granola. It’s coffee and weed…you know, wake and bake.”

  “Oh!” they both said, laughing.

  “Okay, that’s good info to have,” Cady added. Although after the night before, maybe she could have been tempted. “I suppose I’ll just have the coffee part then. And the pancakes, please.”

  “Me too, thank you,” Shelby said.

  “You need to be well fed for your travels.” Marian took back the beautiful little menus and gave them a smile. “Make sure to come stay here before you fly out.”

  Cady nodded. “We definitely will.”

  They were picking up a hire car today, and heading south. The plan was to make their way slowly down the coast as far as San Diego, through LA, doing side trips whenever something grabbed their attention. Then they’d fly across to Vegas and bus out to the Grand Canyon, before coming back to San Francisco in time for LitQuake (edifying) and the Castro Street Fair (entertaining). Then home, to whatever awaited there.

  “You better. And no more fighting.” Marian gave her a wink and left the room.

  Cady looked at Shelby. “What did you tell her?”

  “Everything.” At Cady’s expression, she said, “So what? She’s not going to judge you.”

  “Judge me?” Cady took a breath. Let it go, let it go. To be fair, she’d told Reid the night before, so she could hardly criticize.

  She got out the California map and lay it on the table, between a tiny vase of wildflowers and an old-school salt pig. “Okay then. How far shall we go today? San Jose? Santa Cruz?”

  Happily distracted by the prospect of the adventure ahead, they settled on the day’s plan as they ate their breakfast. Then they packed the last things in their bags, and hugged Marian goodbye.

  “Drive safe,” she told them.

  “Cady’s doing the driving,” Shelby said. “She doesn’t trust me.”

  Cady rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb at her sister. “Would you trust this?” she asked Marian.

  She grinned and shook her head, the tattooed string of flowers twisting in bloom on her neck as she moved. “You might have to. Just be good to each other.”

  * * *

  “Toyota Corolla?” Shelby had a mouth like a cat’s bottom as she regarded the modest silver car. “I was hoping for a Chevy, at least.”

  Cady herself had imagined them cruising the interstate in a Thunderbird convertible. But the Corolla was affordable, and practical, especially in the July heat. “Thelma and Louise we ain’t,” she said. “Hurry up and get in.”

  Shelby sighed and got in the passenger side as Cady slammed the trunk shut. Then she got herself settled in the driver’s seat. She didn’t drive much in London, apart from taking her mum to doctor’s appointments when she could get time off. She’d taken the train to and from work every day, joining the glum commuter crowds on British Rail. Now she adjusted the Corolla’s mirror and scooted the seat forward. Everything was opposite, including the road itself. She grasped the steering wheel firmly.

  “Say a prayer to Saint Christopher,” she advised Shelby.

  “Saint who?”

  “Never mind.” She indicated, looked over the wrong shoulder, then the right one, and pulled out into the traffic. They were on their way.

  * * *

  After three days in Santa Cruz, Cady thought she finally fully understood the whole California dreaming thing. The sun, the sandy beach and sparkly water, the sea lions, the boardwalk with its candy-colored amusement park rides…it was all perfection. Both of them were too chicken to go on the old wooden-framed Giant Dipper rollercoaster, and the various swirling, falling, and spinning thrill rides, but they looked out at all the fun from high up in their M&M-red gondola. They ate saltwater taffy and corndogs, but bypassed the deep-fried Oreos and other artery-busting treats. After a while, it was hard to even remember what her overcast corner of south London even looked like. When they phoned to check in with their dad, it was like talki
ng to someone in a whole other universe.

  On the morning of their fourth day, she rolled herself over in the sun and looked at Shelby, baking lazily on the next towel in her black bikini. “Do you think we should start planning our next move?”

  She opened one eye and peered at Cady, not lifting her head from where it rested on her arms. “Move?” She really couldn’t have looked less like someone who wanted to move.

  “To our next stop, maybe?”

  “Oh…” She heaved herself up and flipped over, scattering sand on Cady’s book. “Not yet, surely?” She stretched out her legs, all the better to get an even tan.

  “No, I guess not yet.” It had been a blessedly peaceful few days. Shelby seemed pacified by the sun, slowed to a happy ease. There had been no mention of the secret, or of finding their dad, and Cady was relieved that she seemed to be coming to terms with it all. She turned back to her book, but was distracted by a pair of surfers making their muscled way down to the water, carrying retro wooden surfboards straight out of a Beach Boys movie. From behind her sunglasses, she watched as they passed by, tall, tanned, and clichéd in the very best way. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay a few days longer.

  Inspired by the surfers, she decided to take a photo of the beach and post it on Twitter. She still had hardly any followers, but it was fun to finally have some interesting things to share. She lined up a shot of Shelby’s pedicured toes in the foreground, with the baby-blue lifeguard tower in the background, looking like a landing pod on its steel legs. A lifeguard obligingly appeared at just the right moment, leaning on the metal railings. With model-worthy girls scattered around on the white sand, and surfers on the water, it could have been a scene from a Katy Perry video. She was pretty sure Shelby’s bubblegum-pink polish was something Katy would go for.

  “What are you doing?” Shelby complained, not bothering to open her eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  Satisfied with the shot, she chose the ‘Tweet’ option. While she was there, she figured she’d just see what was happening with the Flashpointers. What she found made her heart sing…and sink. They were following her now! But the SF-ly led backlash was dragging on, with an op-ed in the San Francisco Chronicle expounding on the inevitable crash of fads that burn too bright, too fast. And it seemed like the turnout for the latest Flashinator event hadn’t been good. In fact, it was pretty much a flop. She knew that they’d planned a mid-week flash mob to tie in with a wine tasting and music festival, taking advantage of the long summer evenings and the captive vacation-happy visitors. She tried to think what could have gone wrong. Maybe it was the wrong demographic. Maybe everyone was too drowsy with heat and Zinfandel. Or maybe it was just that the tide was turning, and their golden days were ending, partly thanks to SF-ly. She hoped not—but it happened all the time. What goes up, must come down.

  They did leave Santa Cruz the next day, after all. And in the days that followed, as they made their way down the coast and inland, Cady thought about it a lot. It may have been a fad, but it was the fad of her heart. It had given her something to dream about through the dark times, and she didn’t want to see it come to an inglorious end.

  “What have you been thinking about so much?” Shelby asked one day, as they poked around in an antique store. This one was in a red barn behind someone’s house, a picture-perfect little piece of Americana.

  She picked up an old carpenter’s plane and turned it over in her hands. The handle and knob were smooth with age and use, but the metal parts were still good. It had probably belonged to a family with a barn just like this. “I’ve been wondering if Flashpoint is going to fall to pieces now.”

  “That’d be a shame. I wonder what Kyle would do.” She looked wistful at the thought of him. “But, you know, nothing lasts forever.”

  “I suppose not.” She looked at the tool, still sturdy and useable. Then she sighed and put it back down on the display table, feeling flat. “Well, we’ll see.”

  “Come on, let’s go and eat,” said Shelby. “Then we can decide what to do with our afternoon.”

  Before she’d finished her sentence, she was halfway out the door. Cady said a thank you to the sales assistant and followed her out. After their rocky start, the trip had been going surprisingly well. Shelby had come up with the idea of having a couple of hours to themselves every afternoon. That way, she said, they wouldn’t get sick of each other. And, they could each do something they really wanted to. It was actually a great suggestion. Cady loved the antique stores and artists’ studios that were tucked away in every little town they came to, and Shelby loved to browse the modern shops and boutiques. This way, they avoided any arguments about what to do, and had enough ‘me’ time to keep tension at bay. Sometimes Cady just walked around, soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying the sun. She was on holiday, after all.

  After lunch that day, she found a quaint independent bookstore—kind of a rarity so far on their travels—and couldn’t resist going in. It was good to support local booksellers, she’d heard, in the age of Amazon. She found the latest paperback from Kristan Higgins, ordered a coffee and a bagel from the tiny café counter at the back of the store, and settled in to read.

  After an hour or so, and a second coffee, she decided to check in on the latest with the Flashpoint situation. She signed into Twitter and noticed that she had a direct message, for the first time ever. Curious, she clicked on the little envelope. It was from the Flashpoint account.

  Hey Cady. How’s it going? Guess you can see how it’s going here—not best. Listen, I watched your interview. You made it all sound so simple and true. Yeah, noble even. Any ideas about what we should do next? K.

  Her heart skittered with excitement. Kyle was asking her what they should do? Well, as it happened, she did have some ideas. She typed a reply, making sure to keep her online cool.

  Yes, been thinking about it actually. Have a few ideas. Happy to help if I can. Cady.

  After a minute she signed out, not wanting to be that sad person sitting there refreshing the screen, waiting for a reply. Then a text came from Shelby, asking where she was, so she texted back. Before Shelby arrived, she couldn’t resist doing one more quick check—and there was a reply.

  Come back? There’s room on the bus. Bring that sister.

  She sat, grinning at her phone like an idiot. Uh, yes, she’d come back. Assuming Shelby wanted to. And she was pretty damn sure she’d want to.

  Suddenly, though, she remembered the complicating factor—Reid. Could she handle the embarrassment of facing up to him again, knowing she was still nursing a mammoth crush—yes, she’d admit it—while he was most emphatically not? Well, of course she could. She’d handled tougher stuff than that. And this could be something amazing. She wasn’t going to let a small (okay, tall, and dark and handsome) complication get in the way of being part of Flashpoint, if only for a little while.

  There was a ring-a-ling as the door opened, triggering the old brass bell, and Shelby came in. She took one look at Cady’s face and said, “What? What is it?”

  “Come and see.”

  She held out the phone so that Shelby could read the messages, and laughed as her sister’s face went pink and her eyes grew large.

  “No! Really?”

  “Yes, really.” She laughed. “Does that mean you want to go, then?”

  “Hel-lo! Yes, I want to go.” She did a little happy dance right in the middle of the store, making the other customers stare. “Oh my God, I really hate you right now, Cady Morrow.”

  “I hate you too.” She shook her head, laughing at her exuberant twin. “I hate you so much I got you back on that bus. Now let’s get you out of here before someone calls the funny farm.”

  * * *

  “How much of a trust fund do you think he has?” Shelby asked as they headed north again, air conditioning cranked up to high in the little silver car.

  “I thought you would’ve found that out already,” Cady replied. Shelby was usually quick to establish the
financial credentials of any man that interested her. She liked to get as much info as possible, to see if a guy would be worth her while. Worth, as in net worth. “Didn’t Reid say he had some sponsorship deals too?”

  “He said he was negotiating.” Shelby thought for a while. “That bus is expensive. And he’s been funding the events. I guess the others are volunteers, maybe.”

  “Maybe.” She wondered how Reid fit his sand sculpture work around the Flashpoint activities. Well, for better or worse, she’d have a chance now to find out—if he was along for the ride. “Do you think the evil twins will be there?”

  “Twins more evil than us?” Shelby laughed.

  “Actually I think you and Alison are the evil set,” Cady said, earning a thump in the arm. “Ow! Don’t injure the driver, or you’ll never get there.”

  Shelby frowned. “I hope they’re not staying on the bus.”

  “If they are, we’ll have to cope. And you’ll have to use your best behavior, seriously. I don’t know how long we’ve got, so make the most of it.”

  She smiled to herself. If making the most of it meant being in Reid’s company, she was willing to do what had to be done.

  Nine

  With only a few wrong turns, they found their way to the park on the outskirts of San Francisco where they’d arranged to meet the bus. As they arrived, Kyle came down the steps to meet them. He was wearing black, super-skinny skinny jeans, and the furry vest, as usual. The brisk wind blew the fur in different directions, but his quiff sat firm where it emerged from under his beanie. He scratched his raggedy beard as he approached, and Cady could see why he was such an easy target for the nay-sayers. But she noticed that Shelby looked slightly glazed as he approached—she, at least, felt the full effect of his charisma.

  “Made it, huh?” He smiled at them both, but especially at Shelby, who seemed to have suddenly lost her usual bravado. She smiled and managed a small ‘hi’.