by Peter Martin
Dear Isaac,
We’re coming over when we can book the time off work, if possible within the next few weeks. Will give you the exact date of our flight as soon as possible. I’ll be in touch soon,
Regards
Garry and Delia Flynn.
‘Sounds fine to me.’ Delia said giving her approval.
And that was it, the email was sent.
Over the course of the next few days, both Garry and Delia managed to book a couple of days’ holiday off from work. And while Garry’s line manager agreed to him taking the time as unpaid leave, Delia’s employers decreed, that she would get holiday pay so long as she gave two weeks’ notice.
With this sorted out, Garry booked their flight and three nights in a hotel for a fortnight’s time. No doubt the longest fourteen days of his life.
The following weekend was a hive of activity. The family were invited for a meal and Garry took the opportunity to explain what had transpired with Mr Simpson and their ensuing trip to Jersey. Everyone was delighted, and as both Tom and Cassie were eager to hear from them, Garry promised he would telephone from Jersey with any news.
<><><>
So there they were, again at Birmingham Airport, this time waiting to board a flight for Jersey.
‘I can’t believe we’re off again, Deel.’
‘Me neither; although this time it really is a working holiday,’ Delia pointed out.
‘Yes, but if we get the time, I’d like to do a bit of sightseeing – after all, I know we did our best for the children with holidays and that, but money was always a little tight so we may as well enjoy ourselves now. It probably won’t be as ‘posh’ as Montriga, but in a way the Channel Islands are in a class of their own, don’t you think.’
She smiled in agreement saying, ‘True, but everything’s what you make of it Garry. Let’s get Isaac Simpson sorted out first before we do anything else. Did you remember to email him to tell him when we’d arrive?’ She knew he’d been in a bit of a lather, counting the days before their departure to Jersey and it wouldn’t surprise her if there were a few things he’d overlooked.
‘Of course, it’s all in hand. He’s asked me to ring him when we get there so we can arrange to meet up.’
‘Good – bet you can’t wait to meet him eh Garry? He’s not only a possible link to your parents but he also saved your life!’
‘You’re right of course. And it could be rather emotional when I finally get to shake his hand. Although it might very well be a bit of a let-down if he knows nothing of my real parents.’
‘He’ll solve the mystery for us, you’ll see,’ she said kissing him, just as their flight was called.
The flight to Jersey took a little over an hour. Followed by a short taxi drive from the airport to the Hotel Claremont in St Helier. The three storey building was set back off the road and backed by a wooded area. A far cry from the accommodation in Montriga but nevertheless still comfortable.
In all Delia felt pleased with things so far saying, ‘I’d no idea we’d be this close to the beach, Garry, when you made the booking. Fancy a walk around St. Helier, once we’ve unpacked?’ She didn’t intend spending the whole time thinking of this Simpson guy, but luckily Garry agreed saying, ‘If you like. We may as well take advantage of the dry weather even if it is cool and a little blowy.’
So the afternoon was taken up with sightseeing, returning to the hotel for an evening meal.
Later that night, relaxing in their room, Delia looked up from the book she was reading saying, ‘Have you any idea how far away Mr Simpson lives?’
‘I’d say around three and a half miles from here. I had planned to ring him tomorrow morning after breakfast,’ Then he glanced at his watch, ‘But as it’s only seven thirty I think I’ll ring him now.’ Delia felt pleased for him, with any luck he’d soon have all the details of what had transpired back in 1964.
‘Hope he doesn’t want to meet tonight.’
‘He won’t, love. We’ve only just got here. I’ll hire a car first thing in the morning, and we’ll drive over to his house. It’ll be much more convenient than getting a taxi.’
She watched as he hesitantly dialled the number, and could see his breathing had become erratic.
‘You know love, I’m in two minds whether to ask the guy over the phone if he knew the names of my parents. I’ll see how the conversation goes. It may be better if I wait, you know. until we’re face to face, I’ll have to play it by ear.
‘It’s ringing out. Can’t wait to hear his voice – it’ll be so strange for both of us, and as you say, I owe him my life.’
Delia looked on as Garry waited and waited for someone to answer the phone, and for one horrible moment feared Isaac Simpson wasn’t going to answer, or wasn’t in. Then she heard Garry stammer ‘Ha… Hallo!
Followed a few seconds later by: ‘This is Garry Flynn. I’m the guy who’s been emailing you about a holiday you had in Montriga back in 1964.’
Silence, then Garry asked, ‘This is Isaac Simpson I’m speaking to – isn’t it?’
Garry’s eyes widened and a smile came on his face, to indicate he was actually speaking to the guy.
Delia breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Thank God for that.’ Garry wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘So glad to speak to you, at last, Isaac. It must be surreal hearing my voice after what happened all those years ago. I can’t wait to meet you, so I can thank you personally for saving my life back then. Why, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be alive today.’
Then the smile left Garry’s face, and he looked a little hesitant. Before eventually saying ‘You still there Isaac?’
Oh no Delia thought, something’s gone wrong. Was he still speaking to Garry? She felt dread come into the pit of her stomach as she waited with bated breath.
Finally, Garry spoke, ‘Come on, there must have been more to it than that. In your email, you said we should meet, so you could tell me personally about what happened in more detail.’
More silence.
‘It’s not right to say that. For one thing I’d like to thank you personally for saving my life.’
Delia mouthed to Garry, ‘What’s going on?’ But Garry held up his hand to her.
‘Isaac, why are you saying this? We’ve come all the way to Jersey specifically to meet you, and now you’re saying we can’t meet. Please… listen, after you saved my life, only a short time later I was either adopted or snatched by someone. It’s only recently that I found this out. Do you know about that, too?’
Sounded as if this was going from bad to worse.
‘I’ve got nowhere else to go, Isaac – you’re my last chance. Just one five-minute meeting - that’s all I ask. Isaac! Isaac!’ Garry shouted, but flung his phone onto the bed in frustration.
‘He put the phone down on me. That was incredible. You should have heard him.’
‘What – are you saying he doesn’t want to meet us?’
‘That’s right, he doesn’t. He says he can’t elaborate on what I’ve already found out, and so it would be a waste of time. You should have heard the feeble excuses – how it had been forty years ago, and his memory not being so good now. This is after he asked us to come over to meet him. So why’s he doing this? I mean, we’ve spent a lot of money on this trip. What’s the matter with the man?’ Garry raged.
‘I have no idea… ’
‘Well, I won’t let this drop. Maybe we can’t force him to meet us, but we can still confront him. And when we do, I aim to find out what else he knows if it kills me,’ Garry said, through clenched teeth.
‘What makes you think you can make him change his mind?’
‘Nothing, but I can bloody well try. I get the feeling someone’s got to him, warned him not to say anything. He sounded very nervous.’
‘But why would anyone do that?’
‘Because someone somewhere, maybe even my parents themselves, don’t want me to find out who they are. Perhaps
they’re ashamed of me, or plain and simply didn’t want me then, and don’t want to know me now. But I have a right to the truth, don’t I? And then it’s for me to decide what to make of it.’ His face had gone red with anger by this time.
Delia couldn’t understand why the guy had changed his mind? From his emails, he seemed keen to meet. But then it may not have been down to Mr Simpson – perhaps somehow or other Garry’s parents were the back of it and as he’d said they didn’t want to be found. Well, knowing Garry, she couldn’t see him letting this drop that easily.
‘You can’t force Mr Simpson to tell you anything if he doesn’t want to,’ she pointed out.
But when Garry said, ‘No, I can’t. But if I could only talk to him, I might be able to persuade him, once he understands what he’s putting me through. And if not, I’ll pester him until he does.’
‘Garry, talk sense will you?’
‘I mean it love. We’ll go round to his house tomorrow, see if we can persuade the old buzzard.’
‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘I do, I assure you.’
‘Whatever happens, don’t lose your temper with him. He’s old and you could get yourself in big trouble.’
Garry laughed. ‘Don’t worry, as long as he explains why he doesn’t want to tell me then I’ll accept it. I’ll be as good as gold.’
<><><>
First thing the next morning, Garry hired a car.
On his return his first words to Delia were, ‘So when’s the best time to go?’
‘How long is a piece of string? There’s no telling when he might be in. Although he must be retired.’
‘Yes. There are probably days when he’s out, so I’d say the best time to go is early evening after seven o’clock. It must have been about that time when we phoned last night and don’t forget he won’t be expecting us either.’
‘Yes, all right – but Garry don’t go in there gung-ho.’
‘Look, don’t worry – I’ll be quite calm. But I’m telling you, he knows something, believe me. No matter what lead we’ve tried to follow it’s been the same – someone or something has put a stop to it. All we have to do is to make him see he has a duty to tell us. And he’s the only chance I’ve got. Without him, I’ll never find them.’
<><><>
The following day was spent exploring the town of St Helier and the surrounding area. Delia, however, couldn’t enjoy herself, not with Garry’s mind being constantly preoccupied with Isaac Simpson. It seemed all he cared about these days.
She understood his disappointment. Simpson had turned out to be unreliable. But plain and simply she couldn’t see this turning out how Garry wanted it to, he was in for another let-down.
At seven o’clock that night, they drove off in the direction of Isaac Simpson’s house. Delia had a map open on her lap, together with a list of roads to look out for on the way, but she assumed the house wouldn’t be too difficult to find on an island this size. To her Garry seemed irritable, nervous even, but one thing for sure if he took it out on her, she be ready for him. Although, she knew, a row at this stage wouldn’t do anyone any good.
They took the main road out of St Helier, in the direction of the airport, then just on the outskirts of the town branched off to Thorpemill on the A1. After that it was a right turn to St David’s which was signposted as a mile and a half away. Mr Simpson lived in a small hamlet roughly half a mile along this road just before the village.
Now travelling on a totally deserted road, having followed Delia’s directions, in the distance the church steeple of St David’s rose up out of the trees surrounding it. Prompting Garry to say, ‘It can’t be much further surely. Wait a bit, there… look… four houses. If there’s a grey-stoned cottage about two hundred yards on the right - that’s it.’
Delia breathed easier now they’d found the place without too much trouble. Garry slowed the car down in front of the cottage, half covered by ivy. Two cars were parked outside, a Mercedes, and a Mini, giving the impression someone was at home. Driving on Garry parked the car in a lay-by about fifty yards on from the cottage.
Delia felt uneasy over what they were about to face. She took his hand and squeezed it as they walked back down the country road. The brightness of the day was fading quickly, causing Delia to say, ‘I’m glad I don’t have to walk back to the car alone.’ And with no reply from Garry she continued, ‘What if he refuses to talk to us?’
‘He will when he understands how important this is to me – and if not, I’ll have to persuade him, or plead with him.’
‘Be careful, Garry. He may have been telling the truth.’
‘In that case, why did he encourage me to come all the way to Jersey to meet him? And then say he’s got nothing else to tell me?’
‘Well, we’ll soon find out,’ she replied as they stepped up to the panelled door to the cottage.
After standing there a second or two Garry finally rapped three times on the doorknocker.
‘Surely he’s got to be in, with these two cars outside,’ Delia reassured him.
The sound of movement in the house left her waiting with butterflies swirling around in her stomach. Then a light was switched on, and a key turned in the lock, but as the door opened it became obvious to her that the tall bald-headed man in front of them couldn’t be Isaac Simpson. He looked to be in his early thirties, wore a pair of scruffy jeans and a tee shirt with the word ‘Scorpion’ printed on it. A cigarette smouldered in two fingers of his right hand and the enraged look on his face spoke volumes – they weren’t welcome.
To say Delia didn’t like the look of him was putting it mildly. No way would this be easy. She detected a slight tremor in Garry’s voice when he asked, ‘Is Mr Simpson in?’
‘Who’s asking?’ Was his gruff reply.
‘Mr and Mrs Garry Flynn.’
‘Well, Mr and Mrs Garry Flynn, he’s not here.’
‘Oh come on now. What about those two cars outside the house? Ask him if he’ll see us for a few minutes. This is important – he may have some vital information about my family.’
The bald man’s eyes narrowed, he looked extremely irritated by Garry’s stubbornness.
‘Mr Flynn, I’ve already told you once, Mr Simpson isn’t home, and even if he was, he wouldn’t want to speak to you, believe me. Now if I were you I’d get the fuck out of here while you still can.’
Even though Delia recognised this as a definite warning she couldn’t stop herself from saying, ‘No need for language like that.’
‘Lady, I’ll use whatever language I fucking like –’ he warned
‘Please tell Mr Simpson we’re here. Then let him decide, not you, whether he speaks to us or not,’ Garry persisted, standing his ground, although he must have been petrified.
When the bald man’s right eye started to twitch Delia realised he was having trouble controlling his temper.
‘Mr Simpson is a frail old man, and I’m not letting anyone upset him,’ he repeated.
‘Yes, but is it us that’s upsetting him or you.’ Delia countered. But as soon as she uttered the words she knew it was a mistake.
‘Look darling, why don’t you both mind your own business and clear off before I forget you’re a lady.’
Disregarding the thug’s threat, Garry said, ‘You have no right to say who he can and can’t see? You can even be a witness to whatever goes on if you’re that worried. Now are you going to ask him, or do I go in and ask him myself.’ Immediately Delia saw Garry had gone too far, because the man suddenly grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him real close. Oh no, Delia gasped to herself, wishing they’d never come here in the first place.
‘I’ve had more than enough of you, Flynn. I’m telling you straight, you’re leaving now, and if you give me any more lip, you’ll get my fist in your face – get it?’ With that he shoved Garry away from him, causing him to stagger backwards and land flat on his back on the driveway. Garry looked shaken and shocked by the
ferocity and strength of the push, but other than the bits of shingle sticking to the palms of his hands he seemed unhurt.
‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ Delia screamed, so angry that a man like him had done this to her husband.
But her comments were ignored and he made for Garry still lying on the ground. He stood over Garry, his fists balled up, glaring, as if begging him to try something. Delia’s heart was in her mouth hoping he wouldn’t take the bait. If he did he’d be in for a beating.
‘Now get the fuck out of here – both of you. And if either of you show your faces here again, you’ll find yourselves in more trouble than you ever dreamed possible. You want to try your luck – go right ahead, I’d love to give you what you deserve, mate.’ The threat was said in a growl causing Garry to remain on the ground.
Delia went to him at once and helped him get shakily to his feet. But he still wanted to go back for more, so restraining him by the arm pleaded, ‘Please no, Garry, no more.’
Finally, they edged their way back down the drive towards the road, to a further onslaught of, ‘Go on, get lost. You vermin.’ Then the front door slammed shut.
‘Thank God he’s gone in! Are you all right, Garry?’ Delia asked, looking worried.
‘A bit shook up – that’s all.’ And brushing the dirt of his clothes with his trembling hand he continued, ‘I wasn’t expecting that. Deel, this is getting scary. What on earth’s going on here?’
‘I have no idea, but I’m not sure I want to carry on with this any longer. I know you want to find your family, but if it’s going to be this dangerous, perhaps we ought to walk away.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, but we mustn’t let them scare us off. In one way it makes me even more determined,’ he said.
They walked back to the car relieved to have got out of that situation unscathed. Leaving Delia to reflect on what had just taken place. In her opinion, two questions needed to be answered – who was trying to stop them finding out the truth, and why?
Fifteen minutes later back in the hotel bar, Delia insisted Garry have a stiff drink to steady his nerves.