Anywhere's Better Than Here

by Zöe Venditozzi

  Gerry opened the door to his flat and pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘‘Laurie, you make a flask of coffee and get whatever food you can find into a bag.’’ He turned towards the bedroom. ‘‘I’ll get some things together.’’

  The boy stood ramrod straight, awaiting instruction. Laurie could imagine him in a World War One uniform. She could see Gerry dressed similarly, standing holding a pocket watch in his hand, telling the boys when they’d be going over the top.

  Gerry put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘‘You sit down and have a rest. You’ll need your strength.’’

  What on earth was he planning? Laurie tried to smile at the boy as Gerry went into the bedroom.

  ‘‘Go and the stick the kettle on would you? I just want a quick word with Gerry.’’

  The boy hesitated then went into the kitchen. She stood for a moment staring at the wallpaper, trying to decide what the right course of action was. Clearly, Gerry had gone a bit mental. She wasn’t sure if he’d had a lot to drink or if it had just been a couple of sips from his hip flask. He didn’t seem drunk. But he did seem odd and it was probably best that she didn’t leave him on his own with the oddly-behaving boy. Perhaps their oddness would cancel each other out, but it was best not to take the chance. She sighed and then knocked on the door frame of Gerry’s room. She didn’t want to startle him.

  Gerry was packing things into a camouflage duffle bag. There were two sleeping bags rolled up on the bed. Camping? She shuddered.

  ‘‘Hi Gerry.’’ He looked up at her and smiled. He didn’t seem mad now. Just focussed.

  ‘‘So. What’s the plan?’’

  ‘‘We’re going up to Perthshire.’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’ She scanned his face, but nothing else was forthcoming. ‘‘Why Perthshire?’’

  ‘‘My family have a house there. A holiday place – it’ll give us a chance to work out what we’re going to do.’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’ She took a step closer. ‘‘But shouldn’t we tell someone about Jamie?’’

  ‘‘Laurie, the papers are full of child abuse stories where nobody does anything and the kid ends up dead.’’ He gripped the duffle bag. ‘‘We aren’t going to just dump him, are we?’’

  ‘‘Well, no, but we don’t want to do something hasty and then get into trouble ourselves, do we?’’

  Gerry laughed. ‘‘That’s why we’re going to Tarnbrae.’’

  ‘‘Tarnbrae?’’

  ‘‘The house. We’ll have time to regroup there.’’ He went back to packing the bag, then glanced at his watch. ‘‘We’re leaving in ten minutes. Grab some cards and things. There’s no TV.’’

  She frowned. ‘‘Okay. But I think we should at least phone Ed.’’ Gerry didn’t look up. ‘‘He’ll be really worried and he might get into a lot of trouble for this.’’

  Gerry looked up, his face very serious.

  ‘‘No offence Laurie, but I’ve no time for people who just stand by and do nothing.’’

  ‘‘That’s not very fair.’’ She was surprised by herself. ‘‘We don’t know what’s happened do we?’’

  ‘‘It’s not a risk I’m prepared to take.’’

  She sighed. ‘‘Alright.’’ It was obvious that there was no dissuading him. She could also see that the boy would probably rather go off on a hare-brained adventure with Gerry than go home with her to face Ed. ‘‘Fair enough. But we need to talk about this properly when we get to the house.’’

  There was no response.

  ‘‘Okay?’’

  He nodded, but he didn’t look up.

  She should tell him about the dead friend, this Paul, but she didn’t want to make things even more stressful. She’d wait for the right moment, maybe try and get more info out of the boy first.

  She went through to the kitchen.

  Jamie was standing in front of the bookcase staring at the picture of Gerry in his uniform. The kettle was boiling and he’d found the flask and some other things which were sitting out on the counter. He glanced over at Laurie then turned back to the photo. She went over to the counter and started to root around for the stuff to make a flask of coffee. She’d need it; she was as tired as she’d ever been. What she should be doing now was having a shower and then going to bed. She poured boiling water into the flask and dumped in a good dose of instant coffee.

  She should be in her own flat telling Ed that it was over and that they needed to move on. She screwed on the lid and the cup and gave the flask a good shake. She needed to think about what on earth she’d been up to over the last wee while. She put the flask and a pint of milk and a bag of sugar into a plastic bag.

  But sometimes the things you needed had to wait until other things had been sorted out. Surely, she knew that by now. Besides, there had to be a female presence in this situation. Not only to keep Gerry from being accused of something, but also to think about the things he and the boy wouldn’t think of.

  Gerry walked into the room holding up his kit bag in one hand and a clutch of sleeping bags in the other.

  ‘‘Right. That’s us.’’

  Jamie turned to Gerry and pointed at the photo. ‘‘Who’s that?’’

  It was obvious it was a younger version of Gerry.

  Gerry grimaced. ‘‘Me.’’

  The boy nodded. ‘‘So you were a soldier.’’

  Gerry nodded. ‘‘I was.’’

  ‘‘What do you do now then?’’ Gerry nodded his head at the door. ‘‘Come on, let’s get going.’’

  He walked out into the hall.

  Laurie picked up the plastic bag. She watched the boy. His hand hovered over the photo. She knew that if she hadn’t been there he’d have nicked it. He’d need some watching over. He was probably used to stealing things. She really hoped he wasn’t going to cause any trouble for her and Gerry.

  ‘‘Come on,’’ she said, pointing at the door.

  He nodded, wet eyed.

  She thought fleetingly about giving him a cuddle but doubted he’d welcome it. ‘‘Here. Take this.’’ She handed him the plastic bag. He didn’t move but just stood, staring at her. ‘‘Go on,’’ she said gently, ‘‘follow him.’’

  He left the room. She glanced around, zipped the photo into her coat and followed the other two out of the flat.

  ***

  The street was still deserted and Laurie started to get that post-apocalypse feeling. This situation was much more believably post-disaster than when she imagined it usually. There were all the classic ingredients for drama here: the strong, silent man, the woman who might be handy with a knife but was also prone to dramatic crying and a moody teen who will learn the meaning of life while trying to save himself, or something. Actually, Gerry was the perfect hero type. He had a fairly secret past and no real family connections. She had no idea what was going on in his head most of the time. But he had that necessary filmic sadness about him: a sort of wistful rancher cast to his face that women would fall in love with and men would admire.

  Jamie was perfect as the teen runaway. He was obviously from a difficult background but he looked bright enough. He was nice looking too – quite tall and dark with sharp eyes that hinted at hidden depths. But what about her? She doubted she was leading lady material. She was too small, too normally proportioned. However, she knew she did have a steely core that could most likely be relied on in a crisis; she’d shown that she could follow the hero’s lead, however daft it might seem; and she had a fairly complicated back story of her own.

  Gerry walked beside them now, leading the way to a street around the corner. He stopped in front of an old Mercedes estate.

  ‘‘Here we are.’’ He put the kit bag on top of the car and fished the key out of this pocket.

  Jamie stood between Laurie and the car and looked ready to lay claim to the front seat.

  ‘‘Right Jamie, you’re in the back. I’ll sit in the front and navigate.’’

  Jamie scowled at her but moved to the back door.<
br />
  ‘‘Go ahead,’’ said Gerry, ‘‘the doors are unlocked.’’

  ‘‘How come you’ve got a Merc and you live in that?’’ Jamie thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of Gerry’s flat.

  ‘‘It was my Gran’s. I inherited it.’’ Gerry walked round to the boot and chucked the kit bag in. ‘‘Get in.’’

  Gerry and Jamie opened their doors and got into the car. Laurie stood for a second, playing for time. She looked up and down the street at the Christmas lights hanging from the lampposts and at the cars all neatly tucked in at the pavements. She could still easily walk home from here. Gerry was putting the key in the ignition. She felt something pulse through her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew she had to go with them, at least to see what happened.

  She opened her door. The car smelled of a combination of pine and mint.

  ‘‘Mmm, old ladies’ handbags,’’ she said climbing in. ‘‘Your granny kept a good smelling car.’’

  Gerry gave a slight smile. ‘‘She never drove it.’’

  Laurie had a picture of an old lady standing at her window staring out at her car from behind a pair of heavy damask curtains.

  ‘‘Why have a car if you aren’t going to drive it?’’ asked Jamie from the back seat.

  ‘‘She must have driven it sometimes, I suppose,’’ said Gerry as he fiddled with the controls. Warm air started to fill the car. Laurie settled into the seat.

  ‘‘It’s very comfortable, isn’t it?’’ she said, starting to feel drowsy.

  ‘‘Where did she drive to?’’ persisted Jamie.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ frowned Gerry.

  ‘‘Didn’t you know her?’’ asked Jamie.

  ‘‘Yes, of course. But, I mean, I don’t know what she did with herself, do I?’’

  Laurie looked back at Jamie. He was staring out of the window.

  ‘‘Anyway,’’ said Laurie, sounding like a cheery mother. ‘‘Let’s hit the road.’’

  Gerry started the engine and they pulled out into the street. Laurie fell asleep almost immediately.

  ***

  She woke up with her stomach lurching as the car spun round a corner. The sky was getting light and the fields they passed were empty of livestock and spotted with scraps of snow. The radio was on quietly. Laurie had no idea about classical music; she only knew the stuff featured in adverts and slow-mo sport montages. She wouldn’t be able to name any of these tunes, but she appreciated them nonetheless. Gerry would know what the pieces of music would be called. She suspected he had one of those memories that held on to the names of everything. He was the sort of person you could go to to identify things. Any thing: music, books, animals.

  She wondered if he was like one of those survival experts on TV who could make a meal anywhere. Presumably he’d had training in that. They’d have to train them – what if they got cut off from the rest of their troop, or whatever it was called, and they wouldn’t get rescued for a while? She couldn’t imagine there’d been much to forage in Afghanistan. She’d seen a few news reports over the years that made the place look like it was made of rocks. There couldn’t be much sustenance there – other than goats or maybe camels, and you couldn’t eat them without drawing unwanted attention to yourself. Now: the jungle, the rainforest, they were fertile places with all sorts of grubs and plants.

  Give her heat over cold any day. She craned her neck to see over the upturned collar of her coat. The heating was on full blast in the car, but the hills in the near distance made her feel cold. She closed her eyes again, drowsy. Was this how hypothermia started? The music was very relaxing – she wondered how Gerry could stay awake.

  ‘‘So is she your girlfriend, or what?’’

  Laurie kept her eyes closed.

  Gerry seemed to be considering this for a moment.

  ‘‘It’s complicated.’’

  The boy tutted.

  She heard Gerry tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  ‘‘So …’’ He was struggling for something to say. ‘‘Have you got a girlfriend Jamie?’’

  ‘‘What? And get into all that hassle? No chance.’’

  ‘‘You’re young. Give it time.’’

  ‘‘Don’t patronise me.’’ The boy’s voice was low and calm. ‘‘I’ve seen how getting into it with someone can fuck things up.’’

  ‘‘Okay, okay.’’ She’d put money on Gerry holding his hands up placatingly. ‘‘I didn’t mean anything by that. You’re obviously very mature for your age.’’

  ‘‘I’ve had to be.’’

  ‘‘Do you want to talk about it?’’

  ‘‘Are you interested?’’

  ‘‘I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise would I?’’

  There was a pause then the boy spoke again.

  ‘‘Why are you doing this?’’

  There was another pause and then Gerry said quietly,

  ‘‘I just felt like it was the right thing to do.’’

  The boy laughed quietly. ‘‘The right thing to do?’’ He laughed again, more loudly and nastily. She decided to take this opportunity to wake up.

  She stretched elaborately. She saw the boy in the rear view mirror. He was watching her. Christ, he was nobody’s fool. He was like a cat: eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched a little. In this light his eyes were so dark they seemed all pupil.

  Gerry reached across and squeezed her shoulder, relieved.

  ‘‘Morning.’’

  She smiled at him. It was nice to wake up next to Gerry. She almost told him so but thought better of it.

  ‘‘Where are we?’’

  ‘‘Not far now.’’ He seemed much calmer. ‘‘Does anyone want to stop for a break? There’s a place coming up in a couple of miles.’’

  Laurie’s stomach cramped with hunger. She turned back to look at Jamie.

  ‘‘What about you Jamie? Are you hungry?’’

  The boy’s face was red. He shook his head, looking down at his lap.

  ‘‘You must be hungry. I’m starving.’’ Suddenly she had a thought. ‘‘God. You aren’t injured are you?’’ She looked to Gerry quickly. ‘‘I didn’t think, at the hospital, were you hurt? Are you hurt?’’ She felt panic rise up in her. What if he had concussion, or internal injuries? Shit! What had they done? A look of panic crossed Gerry’s face too. ‘‘Gerry!’’ She turned round to look at Jamie again.

  ‘‘No, No,’’ the boy said, looking out of the window quite calmly. ‘‘It isn’t that.’’ He tapped his hand against the window and said almost inaudibly, ‘‘I wasn’t the one who got hurt.’’

  ‘‘Oh, thank goodness,’’ said Laurie, slumping down a little in her seat and choosing to ignore the last thing he’d said. She really was acting like a mother now. ‘‘You had me worried there.’’

  The boy looked at her again. ‘‘I didn’t have you worried. You worried yourself.’’

  ‘‘Alright!’’ she said sharply. ‘‘Whatever’s happened to you, we’re just trying to help. We’ve really gone out on a limb here.’’ She glared at him. ‘‘Now. Do you want some- thing to eat or not?’’

  He shook his head.

  ‘‘Well, you’re going to have something to eat, whether you like it or not.’’

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see a hint of a smile on Gerry’s face.

  The boy was still stony faced.

  She stared at him until he looked back at her. Now his face wasn’t quite so set.

  ‘‘I don’t have any money,’’ he said very quietly.

  She felt herself soften. This must be what it was like having a child: lurching from one emotion to another and all the time susceptible to injury.

  ‘‘Don’t worry,’’ She tried to reach back to touch the boy, but he shrank away from her. She withdrew her hand hastily. ‘‘We’ll sort it out.’’

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘‘It’ll be okay Jamie. We’ll sort it out.’’

  He shook his head at his r
eflection in the window.

  Gerry squeezed her shoulder . His face was serious but as calm as she’d ever seen it.

  ‘‘Here we are,’’ he said, nodding at a single storey building coming up on their left. It was like a big scout hut with a curved, glassed bit that came out of the side. There was what looked like a fibre glass life-sized model of a black and white cow on the roof. It looked down balefully on the car park. Gerry pulled into a space that faced the cow.

  They all looked at the cow. Laurie started to laugh. ‘‘What’s that all about?’’

  ‘‘It’s a milk bar,’’ said Gerry looking slightly hurt. ‘‘It’s been here for years.’’

  ‘‘We used to stop here for a milkshake when I was little.’’

  They both turned to look at the boy.

  He coloured. ‘‘Ages ago.’’

  ‘‘I’ve never been up here before,’’ said Laurie. ‘‘Wherever here might actually be.’’

  ‘‘Haven’t you?’’ asked Gerry. ‘‘We never used to go on holiday really. My dad was too busy.’’ Inexplicably, she felt her throat thicken. She had a picture of her mum standing looking out of the kitchen window on to the back garden.

  ‘‘Must have been awful,’’ muttered Jamie.

  She looked down at her hands. She felt like telling them about her mum, but there was no point in competing for who had the most miserable parental situation. Besides, clearly he would win – otherwise they wouldn’t be here, would they?

  At least she was an adult; she had some control over the shape of her life.

  ‘‘Come on,’’ said Gerry. ‘‘Let’s get some breakfast, eh?’’

  Laurie clambered out of the car and stretched. She must have slept in a weird position, because her neck felt as if it had a kink in it. The boy walked over to the side of the car park and spat over the fence into the field next door. Gerry watched him with his hands in his pockets. He pushed his shoulders back and stretched his back.

  ‘‘Gerry?’’

  He turned to her and smiled. He looked happy. He walked round the car, still smiling, and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. She let herself relax into his woolly jumper and breathed in his smell.

  ‘‘Do you think we’re going to get into trouble?’’