The Travel Auction

by Mark Green

  Simon

  * *

  I slowly and deliberately tore Simon’s e-mail into the tiniest pieces possible. “Sounds like a bad message,” said KT2 as she stretched out in the hammock and yawned.

  “Not the best.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “I’ve forgotten what it said.”

  “Liar,” she said, smiling at me, then lying back, hands behind her head.

  “This is a cool place, it smells like the seaside and has a nice feel to it,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “Wake me when you read something interesting.”

  * *

  The other messages I’d printed had lots of offers for KT2 and I to share our story with the world. There were even enquiries from rival celebrity magazines for a photo shoot. The cash offer would of course go through the roof, they said, if we announced our engagement! Thoughtful of them, eh?

  Other Kate Thornlys also offered to step in if things weren’t working out between us. I can’t believe we were that big a deal; there were still people in the world starving, weren’t there? I found myself glancing across at my Kate Thornly. She was slumped back in the hammock with her mouth open, snoring lightly.

  Would I trade you in, Angel? I asked myself, chuckling and shaking my head. If I’d been asked that question a few weeks ago, particularly after our first meeting, I’d have given a very different answer.

  I read on, discarding any irrelevant messages, until I came to the last two.

  * *

  E-Mail From: Maria Stockton

  To: Jonathan Cork

  Subject: Please Don’t Tell Angel I’m e-mailing you…

  * *

  Hi Jonathan,

  * *

  I don’t want Angel to think I’m contacting you behind her back and even if you reply to me I’ll never acknowledge it. This will be the one and only message I’ll ever send you. Whatever you think of me for having a bit of a laugh at both your expenses with the customs thing, (sorry about that, but it was funny, right?) I’m not a malicious person and I only want the best for my friend. Why do you think I set her up with you to start with?

  * *

  The thing is, I wouldn’t be contacting you now, if it wasn’t for the newspaper lot getting involved. All thanks to your so-called friend. As I write this I think they’re going to ambush you in Machu Picchu and I wanted to warn you.

  * *

  They’ll probably mention Angel’s husband, Pete, because when Simon turned up here with Justin and I told them all to piss off, Simon shouted through the letter box that it would be the first thing they’d say to you.

  One thing you need to know: the marriage was dead a long time ago, and the circumstances were not great for Angel. So please, don’t think badly of her. They’ve been apart for over a year and she’s so much better off without him.

  * *

  I don’t want you to judge Angel. She’s been through a lot but she’s still the coolest, most fun person to be around I know, so please give her a chance. If you want the truth from Angel you just have to ask her. I can tell you that from her messages to me so far, she’s having an amazing time, so thank you.

  Look after her.

  Maria

  * *

  I carefully folded the e-mail and buried it deep in my pocket. I was left holding the last message. I wondered if I should discard it, kidding myself that I had the strength to ignore my curiosity.

  * *

  E-Mail From: Kate Thornly

  To: Jonny Blue Bottle

  Subject: I’ve left the Plumber and I want you back

  Dear Jonny,

  I hope the title of this message gets your attention. It was never right with Frank and I’ve realised how good we were together and how much you need me.

  * *

  I’m sorry for pushing you away, making you take off on the trip on your own. I shouldn’t imagine a blind companion is much fun. There, you’ve done it, drawn blood from a stone and gotten me to apologise. So it’s time to sort this mess out, meet up and finish the rest of the trip together.

  * *

  And you’d better hurry up. I can’t imagine you’ll be able to survive for long without some sort of nut incident, which I’m certain the blind woman can do nothing about. Get back to me while you’re still alive and kicking and we’ll sort this out.

  * *

  Your Princess Sparkle

  * *

  Wow. I had to read back over her message several times to check I hadn’t imagined it. She was clever, I’d give her that. And arrogant too, given the tone of her message. But the real question was, had anything in her attitude towards me changed? It’s true I’d become reliant on her always being there, complacent even. And in all fairness, sometimes I’d not been terribly easy to get on with. But what affected me the most was that she’d admitted she was wrong. Believe me, that was unheard of.

  Bloody hell, what was I thinking?

  I shook my head as I caught myself sympathising with her. I instinctively crumpled the page, squeezing it into a tight ball in my clenched fist.

  “Now, if I had to guess, I’d say that was a different kind of message to the one that was torn into tiny pieces. Probably no less controversial in content, but one you’re going to give a bit more consideration.”

  “I’m not with you,” I said, probably sounding a bit vacant, because that’s how I felt.

  “Less anger. Am I right? To tear words into pieces would indicate a sort of finality, closure. But scrunching them up, is more of a frustrated reaction, as if there’s still unfinished business.”

  How did she do that? I dropped my eyes to the small paper ball in my hand and frowned.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” she said, a cheeky, playful tone to her voice.

  I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I threw the paper ball at her, which from this range was an easy head shot. I chuckled as the paper missile struck its target and bounced into her hammock. But I’d underestimated her, because she reached out, grabbed my hammock and yanked it hard, spinning me onto the floor.

  “Nice pirouette!” she said, laughing at me as she felt around the empty hammock and knew I’d hit the deck.

  I lay on the floor propped up on my elbows, laughing with her.

  “Serves me right,” I said, momentarily contemplating tipping her onto the grass to join me, before stopping myself. She had me fair and square. I’d just have to take it on the chin.

  “I’ve been thinking Jonny, perhaps we ought to think about disguises,” said KT2.

  “I don’t think Superman will blend in that well in Bolivia!” I said, making us both laugh more. I stood up and eased myself back into the hammock, thinking.

  “Hair dye and local clothing, that sort of thing?”

  “Yeah, why not? Look, you can probably blend in much easier than me, but travelling with a blind girl, must make us pretty conspicuous.”

  I suddenly felt unsettled at this comment, where was she going with it?

  “You want us to go our separate ways? But that would defeat the whole object of running away together…”

  “Don’t tell me I’m growing on you?”

  I had to bite my tongue. The truth was, I couldn’t imagine travelling without her.

  “I’ve got used to having you around.”

  She grinned.

  “Really? I wasn’t actually thinking of dumping you Jonny. That would mean we’d have to get together first and that would be complicated. What I mean is, with your beard and longer hair, you’re less likely to draw attention to us. I’m the one who needs some work, maybe a haircut and a change of hair colour. But we also need to think of ways so that I don’t appear to be blind.”

  I took a while thinking this through.

  “I guess it’s possible. Might be fun too, seeing if we can get away with it.”

  “See, I knew deep down you’d love the cloak and dagger stuff.”

  I laughed.

  “The name’s Bond…”
I started to say.

  “And if you mention Pussy Galore, I’ll flip you straight over onto your back again!”

  Twenty Seven

  KT2

  Never before had planning things out been so much fun. We went shopping that afternoon, scouring the small town of Copacabana for new ‘ethnic’ clothes, scissors and big sunglasses. But having looked in practically every shop, hair dye was still a problem. The idea was to change my mousy colour to peroxide blonde, and Jonny’s fairer hair to jet black. I thought he’d look good as a tall dark, handsome stranger. Great observation, coming from a blind girl! We’d even paid the hotel bill in advance with cash so we could slip out the following morning with our new look. I toyed with my bottle of beer, wondering where we’d get hair dye from.

  “The ladies in the market, where we bought our new clobber,” said Jonny, after a few minutes silence.

  “I’m not with you.”

  “If they can dye clothes, then maybe hair isn’t so different,” he said.

  “Genius. Let’s go,” I said, draining the last of my drink. I slipped on my big funky sunglasses as Jonny took my hand and led me out of the bar.

  * *

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I said. My voice was muffled from kneeling down with my head tipped over a bucket of cold water. Old nimble hands carefully rinsed off a foul smelling concoction. I couldn’t quite believe we’d managed to explain what we needed.

  After fifteen minutes of garbled Spanish exchanges, lots of si, gracias. Cuanto por favour? And yet more pointing at clothing by Jonny, (so we could get the colour just right) the woman called for her young daughter to watch the shop. We were then led through to a dark back room where I was now kneeling on the stone floor beside Jonny.

  “If she fucks it up, don’t tell me.” I said.

  He sniggered.

  “At least you won’t be able to see yours. My hair could end up green!” he said.

  I felt a towel being rubbed gently through my hair and was ushered to stand. The towel fell away and I stood there wondering what colour my hair was.

  “How does it look?”

  “Don’t know, can’t open my eyes yet, they’re stinging,” I said.

  I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. It felt all right. I pulled a few strands round to my eyes and squinted. I heard water being sloshed over Jonny’s head, rinsing the dye away.

  “This doesn’t look very blonde Jonny. If anything it’s more…”

  “Red,” he said.

  “Red?”

  “Um, yeah. I think I may have confused her…”

  I wasn’t sure if I was angry or amused. If I was back home in my normal surroundings, I would definitely be upset. But I was a few thousand miles away from home and all that image thing.

  “Tell me you’re blonde and I’ll kill you.”

  “Well, they do say we have more fun,” he said, trying to stifle his bewildered amusement.

  “Bien, muy bien!” said the lady enthusiastically, pleased with her efforts.

  We thanked her profusely of course, it would have been rude to let her see any disappointment. Then we hurried back to the hotel in silence.

  “Okay, time for complete honesty.”

  “But you said if it all goes wrong…”

  “Just tell me,” I said, guessing from his quietness that he was nervous about my reaction.

  “Right. Um, it’s not as bad as you might think, I actually like the Toyah Willcox look on you…”

  He couldn’t hold his laughter any longer, so I dug him in the ribs and tickled hard, locking on even more as he screeched like a girl.

  “You bastard!”

  “You should see mine…” he said between gasps of air and laughter.

  “I don’t care!”

  I dug my fingertips into his side again, but it was a more half-hearted effort. It ended up with him pulling me into a comforting hug, my head buried in his chest. He must have thought I was sobbing, the way my body was shaking, because he pulled back and started apologising. But I was trying to stop laughing — it was just the sort of crazy situation Maria and I would get into.

  “Thank God! I thought you’d be heartbroken.”

  I shook my head, grinning.

  “I used to worship Toyah when I was a teenager, but my mum wouldn’t let me dye my hair. I’ve never been brave enough to do it since. It’s hilarious.”

  “That’s not the half of it. I wish you could see mine.”

  “How blonde is it?”

  “Um, Marilyn Monroe could learn a thing or two from me.”

  “Fantastic! Let me have a look,” I said, pulling him close, holding a few strands to my eye.

  “Bloody hell! Do the collar and cuffs match?” I said, unable to stop giggling.

  Me

  We must have been a sight. Both of us stood a couple of inches away from the mirror, examining our strange new looks.

  “I still think I need a haircut. A couple of inches shorter would do,” KT2 said.

  I pulled back from the mirror, watching her clutch her fist around the bottom few inches of her red hair.

  “Are you sure? You girls can get a bit protective over things like that, I don’t want to balls it up and upset you…”

  “Jonny, it’s not like I’ll know how bad a job you make, is it? And I was joking about the whole wanting to look like Toyah thing. Believe me, red is bad already. Really, really bad. But it can’t get any worse, right?”

  * *

  I’d like to say I made a good job of cutting KT2’s hair. It probably wasn’t as bad as I thought, but it was really short. The problem was, I struggled to cut it evenly. I’d take some off one side, but by the time I’d worked my way round, it was all uneven again. Which meant I cut more off to level things up.

  Shit.

  “How’s it looking Jonny? My head feels lighter, more airflow.”

  I did the worse thing possible and just went quiet. In that time she ran fingers through her hair, only there wasn’t much of it left!

  It may have been the effect of our afternoon drinks, or coming down from the energy of our banter and laughter, but she went quiet too, then started to cry. Not hysterical or with any theatrics, she just sat there on the toilet seat and allowed tears to trickle down her cheeks.

  Not sure what to do, I just stood there. The thing I realised, as I studied my workmanship, was that compared to her shoulder length mousy hair, the red colouring and short crop opened up her face. It made me realise how bloody attractive she was.

  “Say something, Angel.”

  She shook her head, and wiped her eyes with her the back of her sleeve. I tore off some toilet paper and placed it in her hand.

  “It’s just a bit of a shock.”

  I stood there for a few more seconds as she dried her eyes, then did the only thing that seemed appropriate. I knelt down, gathered her in my arms and held her.

  KT2

  I managed to pull myself together and thought I’d got through my tears. But my composure went out the window when I felt his arms wrap around me. “Hey, it’s not so bad. I actually think being a redhead suits you, and your hair will grow back in no time,” he said, holding me into his chest.

  His hug was reassuring and safe and I realised I was at a crossroads, that skeleton was trying hard to climb out of the cupboard.

  Perhaps it was time.

  “It’s not just that. It’s a reminder, of how things used to be, a few years ago,” I said. The words tumbled out, a long kept secret that would no longer stay locked away, deep inside.

  It was one of those times where you try to stop yourself, but it feels liberating to fling the wardrobe doors open and boot the rattle man out.

  “When you started to go blind?” he said after a pause.

  I shook my head, tears welling up, my bottom lip quivering.

  “Before that. Going blind actually saved me.”

  Twenty Eight

  Me

  I felt KT2 slump forw
ards in my arms, head in her hands, her body shaking as she silently cried. I sat there in a daze.

  What on earth do I do now?

  This was sounding like a confession and I wasn’t sure I was ready to trade secrets just yet. But when was a good time? I shuddered as I thought back, thinking of my own demons.

  “Want to talk about it?” I said, gently lifting her chin with my fingers. Could she see my face? I searched her blank eyes.

  “No.”

  “I think you should. It’ll help,” I said.

  “I can’t, it’s... too difficult.”

  She turned away from me, wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed, shuffling away from me.

  “I want to reassure you, make you feel safe,” I said.

  KT2 took a deep, erratic breath, trying to compose herself. I reached out, carefully placing my hand on her shoulders.

  “Come on Angel, let me in. I’ll understand.”

  “It’s easier like this.”

  “Independence doesn’t mean you shut out your mates. We’re running partners. And fugitives,” I added, which made her chuckle.

  She sniffed and half turned towards me.

  “Yeah, outlaws.”

  She took another deep shaky breath.

  “You said going blind saved you?” I said, resting my hand back on her shoulder.

  She nodded slowly, the motion carrying through to her body. She clasped her hands around her knees and began rocking where she sat. After a long pause she began speaking. Barely able to whisper the words, I had to concentrate hard to make out what she was saying.

  “Remember I told you about Katie the Cake?”

  “Yes, I remember,” I said.

  “It didn’t stop there. I had an idiot boyfriend, Neil. He destroyed my self-confidence with taunts about my weight. I was a teenager and easily influenced by those waif supermodels. Being the stubborn Scot’s girl I am, I made a pact; I would lose the weight once and for all. I saved up and bought a pair of trainers and started running. I ate less, got myself into shape…”

  I waited patiently as she struggled to get the words out as more tears fell.

  “I hope you dumped him after that.”

  She shook her head, a sad, vacant expression on her face.