by Rich Allen
“Ouch! No, seriously though; I just need to get my head around what’s happened,” he said. “You’re the only one who knows about all this, and I’m so grateful that you believe me. I wish I could say that I’d feel the same if our positions were reversed.”
“What, you mean if I’d received the emails and not you?” Zoe asked.
“Yeah, I’ve always been a seeing is believing kind of guy, I suppose. I would probably have wanted to see some kind of evidence.”
Zoe took a sip of water. “Well, you showed me the email from Quint and the bank card and the phone. That’s evidence isn’t it?”
“I guess. But I could have engineered all that myself.”
“But I knew that you didn’t.”
“‘Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to,’” said Jack.
“A movie quote?”
“Yeah, Miracle on 34th Street. He tapped her playfully with his pillow and Zoe responded by grabbing hers.
After several rounds of knockabout frolicking Jack pinned her down on the bed, using his knees to secure her arms. She wriggled about half-heartedly with a smile on her face. The sparkle in her eyes might have powered an entire village, he thought. They stared at each other for a moment before their lips met in a lingering union.
Jack came up for air and stared at her as she smirked at him. “What are you smiling at?” he asked her.
“You’re a pretty good kisser for a Brit,” she said.
“What do you mean: for a Brit? How many of us Brits have you kissed, exactly?”
“Oh, I guess I lost count after the first fifty.”
“You’re funny for a girl.”
“Jack! You never told me you were such a sexist pig. It’s not what we American girls expect from polite British gentlemen.”
“I’m no gentleman, Zoe.”
“That’s ok, Jack, because I’m no lady.”
They both laughed then moved in for another round of tonsil tennis.
Chapter Twenty Three:
Jack and Zoe sat opposite each other at the two berth breakfast table. The hotel dining room was full of guests, or gannets to Jack’s mind. They stalked around the self-service buffet like they’d not been fed for years. After the physical exertion of the previous night Jack had built up quite an appetite. He’d already devoured a plate of ham and eggs before moving on to fruit and cereals. Zoe had delicately nibbled at a pain au chocolate and was on her third cup of coffee, or Joe, as she called it.
“Did you double check the departure time?” she asked Jack.
He nodded as he chewed his cereal. “Yeah, I rang the airline whilst you were in the shower. Twelve o’clock. It should land at half past two, UK time. I need to get there early to buy the ticket though.”
“You tried using the card to purchase the ticket?”
“Yeah, it didn’t work. It seems five hundred euros was the limit on it. Your flight’s two hours after mine isn’t it?” Jack asked.
Zoe gulped down some more coffee. “Yeah, but I’ll come to the airport with you. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. I hate goodbyes though.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“I guess so.”
“It’s not like we’ll never see each other again, Jack.”
“I really couldn’t stand that. I sort of feel like Clint Eastwood in The Bridges of Madison County. Have you seen that film?”
“I have actually. It’s something of a guilty pleasure,” Zoe said.
“No need to feel guilty about the things we like.”
“I suppose not,” she said. “So you feel like Clint. You mean you crave something that you can never have?”
“I’m just afraid that we’ll both end up being unhappy and I don’t want that to happen,” said Jack.
Zoe smiled. “I think it’s about time you stopped worrying.”
Jack chewed on his orange. “You’re right of course - somehow, someway, we’ll be together. I just know it.”
“Hey. I’m going to call you every day, buster. You’ll be sick of hearing my voice.”
“Yeah, true,” he said.
She shot him a playful frown.
“I forgot to ask you,” Jack said as he sipped his lukewarm tea and pulled a face, “what did you tell your parents when you came back to Rome. They must’ve been curious why you wanted to come back here.”
“I told my pa that I’d left something valuable behind.”
Jack grinned. I’ve never been called that before.”
“Hey, listen mister.” Zoe had raised her voice a touch, “It was a rash impulsive decision to come back to Rome when my mom was ill. I never even told her I was heading back here.”
Jack looked down at the tablecloth. “So you feel guilty?”
Zoe played with her cup and saucer for a moment. “I would if anything happened to her,” she said.
Jack grabbed her hand and held it tight. He never wanted to let go. Not ever. “So, what will you tell them?” he said.
“I’ll tell them that I found what I was looking for.”
Jack smiled. That was the nicest thing he’d ever heard.
“But I’ll wait until we’re back home before I tell them about you and me,” she said. “I think I’ll be leaving out all the weird stuff too. They’ll freak out if I tell them about that.”
“Yeah, probably wise,” Jack said.
“Listen, you finish up your breakfast. I’m just going to give Pa a quick call. I need to finish packing my bag too. Shall I meet you in reception in say twenty minutes?”
“Yeah that’s fine. Take as long as you want. Just don’t a runner though?”
“God you’re paranoid.” She shook her head at him.
Jack smiled. He didn’t think he was paranoid. It was just that he was a poor swimmer in the middle of a shark filled ocean, and ‘Happiness Island’ was a mere dot on the horizon.
Zoe gave Jack a peck on the cheek then walked out of the dining room. He watched her as she disappeared down the corridor and out of sight. Grabbing a server’s attention, he managed to get a tea refill. The breakfast rush hour seemed to be easing off, he thought. People would be heading out to start their day; exploring the Eternal City, taking photographs and buying souvenirs.
Jack though, had to head back to his flat in Gateshead. He’d promised himself that he’d never return. He should after all, be brown bread by this point. What might he expect to find there? A hundred more letters from the mortgage company or the bailiffs. Still, it had to be done. The most important thing was to send his manuscript off to the agent. He’d probably have to use the local library’s computer. Then what? The waiting game probably. He hated the idea of somebody else holding his destiny in their grasp, but he felt like a contender again and he’d not felt that way for a long time. He had a shot didn’t he?
After finishing his tea he retired to the bathroom then loitered around the reception desk pretending to read all the tourist leaflets. He clocked Zoe heading down the stairs with her overnight bag.
“Everything ok?” he asked as he ushered her away from the stairs to allow access to a group of Orientals.
“Yeah, she’s stable. The doctor reckons that she won’t be able to travel for a while though.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so I may be in Milan for another week. I’ll be able to find out more when I get there,” she said.
They took the Metro to Termini then boarded a packed train bound for the airport. It was standing room only for the thirty minute trip through Rome’s less salubrious suburbs. Once at the airport Jack managed to buy a ticket on his intended flight. The girl at the desk had told him that he’d bagged the last seat which made him feel good. She seemed a bit surprised though when he offered to pay cash. Zoe had been at his side, and it felt to Jack like they were now a proper couple.
“Well,” Zoe said as they both stared up at the giant departure board as it flickered with new data, seducing all eyes with the promise of vital
information. “I guess you’d better head through to departures. You don’t want to miss your flight.”
Jack checked the giant clock on the wall. “Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled and grabbed hold of Zoe’s hand. “I really hate goodbyes,” he said.
Zoe extended onto her tiptoes and hugged Jack. “I know you do,” she spoke into his shoulder. “You take care now, won’t you?”
Jack could feel Zoe’s hair tickling his nostril. He held onto her, savouring the sweet smell of her. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “And you take good care of your mum.”
“I will.” She released herself from Jack’s hold and stared into his eyes. He noticed that tears had started to smudge her mascara. He felt his own dam about to be breached, but somehow he managed to repel the tears.
“I love you, Jack Holden.”
Oh God! That’s done it! The dam couldn’t hold them back anymore. Jack felt the running stream make its way down his cheek. “I love you too, Zoe Masters.”
They kissed and cuddled as people walked around them like some sort of everyday obstacle. After double checking that they’d exchanged mobile phone numbers, Zoe walked with Jack through departures and towards the security checks.
“You’ve got your passport and boarding card?” she asked.
“Yes, Mum. You’ll call me tonight won’t you?”
“Sure will buster. Have a safe flight. Feel free to text me when you land. Do you have enough credit on that phone?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got plenty.” He’d checked the phone earlier and had been surprised to find a hundred euros worth of credit. “I hope you’re mum’s going to be ok,” he said.
Zoe smiled. “Thanks.”
They embraced and kissed one final time then Jack slowly backed off, waving to her as he did. Afraid he might bump into somebody; he finally turned around and headed towards the queues at security. When he eventually looked back, Zoe had gone. He felt a mixture of hope and despair as he eased his way towards the plastic trays stacked up on rollers. He grabbed one and placed his bits and pieces inside it. Would things work out between Zoe and him? He’d tried a long distance relationship once before and it hadn’t worked. Why would this one be any different? No, something stirred deep within his soul: a reassuring voice which Jack barely recognised. The voice of hope.
Back inside the main terminal, Zoe headed for the coffee shop and ordered an Americano. As she waited for her drink, she remembered the dream that she’d had the night before - Jack and her walking down the aisle together in the church. She’d never had a dream so vivid before, and it had been enough to convince her to return to Rome. Under normal circumstances, she would never have gotten involved with somebody that had told her all those wacky tales about emails from a movie character. No matter how much she’d been attracted to them. It felt weird, but she’d really fallen for Jack and something inside told her that the two of them were in it for the long haul.
Oh What! Jack had set off the damned metal detector. He’d been forced to spread his legs by some moustachioed security guard who possessed that winning combo of sweat and tobacco. The guy patted him down then gestured that Jack should empty his pockets. Jack obliged and felt the rough exterior of the shell in his hand. With a smile on his face, he held it out like an offering. The security guy inspected it then shot Jack a look as if to say ‘What the fuck?’ Hey, was it illegal to take a scallop shell into a foreign country? Did he need to declare it or something?
Mr Moustachioed B.O. scanned Jack once more with his hand held Geiger-counter then almost reluctantly ushered him away to freedom. Jack then collected his belongings and walked towards the bright lights. He clasped hold of the shell - the totem that had guided him to Zoe.
Chapter Twenty Four:
The plane touched down on schedule, arresting Jack from his cat nap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at Leeds Bradford Airport. Probably twenty years ago. Disembarkation was swift and he soon made it through passport control and into the arrivals area where a mob of overweight women wearing pink t-shirts stood chatting around their suitcases. Jack clocked one which read ‘Hens on Tour: Tracey’s Big Ibiza Bash.’
After changing some euros into sterling he considered getting a taxi into Leeds city centre, but instead opted to follow the signs for the coach park. Spotting one with a sign for Edinburgh, he walked on board and asked the driver if by any chance it stopped at Newcastle? To his surprise, the driver nodded.
“So you have seats available?” Jack asked as he looked down the half empty aisle.
“Oh aye,” said the bald headed chap in his thirties. “We leave in twenty minutes. Just the one ticket is it?”
Jack nodded. He felt at home hearing the man’s Yorkshire brogue.
The driver studied a laminated A4 sized sheet for a few moments. “One way to Newcastle will be twenty pounds exactly.”
Bargain. Jack handed over a crisp note. He took his receipt then asked the driver what time they might arrive in Newcastle.
“About quarter to seven, mate.”
“Thanks.” That would be fine. He found himself a seat towards the middle and stared out of the window. Maybe he should text Steve and arrange to meet him for a pint in town later. Could he remember Steve’s number though? That was the problem with mobile phones; you never actually knew anyone’s number. You simply scrolled to the person’s name in Contacts and then pressed the button. Still, he might just be able to remember Steve’s because it was only a few digits different from Jack’s old number. He composed the message anyway:
‘Hi fella, It’s Jack. On different number now. Hope everything is ok with u. Just back from Rome. On coach from Leeds will arrive in N castle about 7. Fancy a pint in town later?’
He then typed in the digits which he hoped would connect him with Steve’s phone and pressed Send. Several more people boarded, making the coach about two thirds full to Jack’s mind. The age demographic on board seemed pretty wide, he thought. It had been many years since he’d taken a long distance coach trip. It reminded him of childhood holidays with his mum and Rose. Trips to Scotland and Cornwall - happy days. It started to rain as the coach pulled out of the airport and made its way north. He plugged in his iPod and selected The Joy of Shuffle. The opening sonar sound effect of Pink Floyd’s ‘Echoes’ slipped into his ears as he felt himself shiver. The British climate had a lot to answer for.
The rain persisted and Jack watched the drops dance around the window frame as the coach made its way up the motorway to York, where it dropped off a few passengers and gained several more. By Darlington the rain had abated and the sun made a brief appearance. Jack managed another cat nap, more as a means of negating the boredom than out of necessity. He awoke feeling hungry and thirsty as the coach passed the Angel of the North. Almost home.
He checked his phone. A light flashed intermittently. He opened the message and read it:
‘Hello stranger. Long-time no speak. Rome eh! You’ll have to tell me all about it. Yvonne is away on hols with the kids so yeah a beer or three in town would be great. Meet you in The Forth just after seven?’
Jack replied ‘Cool’ then hit Send. Steve was right, it had been a while. What would he tell him about the trip, though? He couldn’t tell him the truth – that he’d taken a Suicide Vacation. No, he’d just say that he fancied a break and that he met this really cool girl called Zoe whilst he was over in Rome. He could also tell Steve about the agent getting in touch about his book. Yeah, it would all be fine.
The coach pulled up into St. James Boulevard just before seven. Jack thanked the driver as he disembarked alongside a middle aged couple. He felt the chill as he stepped out onto the street wearing his shorts. He must’ve looked a bit of a Muppet, he thought. It felt good to exercise his legs as he strolled down Westgate Road and down the snicket which led to The Forth. He stopped outside the door to compose a text message on his phone:
“Hi Zoe. I hope you got to Milan without any probs. Just arrived in Newcastle. Long but
boring day so far. Just meeting up with my m8 Steve for a few drinks in town b4 heading home. Speak later x”
Steve greeted Jack with a scowl as he walked through the pub door: “What the hell are you wearing?” he said loudly.
Jack smiled at his bearded buddy. “They’re called shorts. People wear them when they’re on holiday.”
“Yeah but it’s bloody Baltic here, mate. You look a bit of a dick if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Nice to see you too mate.”
“Sorry fella.” Steve extended his hand and Jack grabbed hold of it.