Missing in Tokyo

by Graham Marks

  By four o’clock, when he’d agreed to meet Suzy at a café just off the high street, Adam had got his money – £150 in traveller’s cheques and £75 in Yen, which cleaned him out, but what the hell – he’d bought the Rough Guide to Tokyo, some toothpaste, deodorant, batteries, shampoo and a new pair of sunglasses. The bare essentials. He also had a new battery put in his old Casio watch – it could show dual time, which he was sure would be useful. At home, after checking the weather in Tokyo again – hot and humid – he’d gathered together the minimum amount of clothing he reckoned he could get away with and had found a mid-sized backpack, hidden at the bottom of Charlie’s closet, that he was sure he could jam everything into.

  Every time he completed a task, ticking it off on his mental list, he felt good, but then when he did something major, like rinse his savings account, he felt sick with an awful mix of guilt and heightened anticipation; the emotional cocktail swung him first down into the depths of self-loathing, because he was doing all this behind his parents’ backs, and then way back up in the clouds. He was going to Tokyo. He was going to find Charlie. He really was.

  Suzy, already waiting for him, smiled as he walked into the café. ‘You look pleased with yourself, anything happened?’

  Adam leant over and kissed her. ‘You could say.’

  ‘Could say what?’

  ‘You’re probably gonna think I’m crazy, but I’m going to Tokyo.’

  Suzy’s eyes widened. ‘With your dad, to try and find Charlie? That’s great, Ad!’

  Adam pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘By myself … I’m going by myself.’ Now he’d said it out loud for the first time, to another person. Waiting for Suzy’s reaction, he felt like Wile E. Coyote when he’d careered off the cliff in pursuit of the Roadrunner and was hanging in midair, waiting to plummet way, way down into the canyon. ‘Told you it was crazy …’

  ‘But why … ?’

  ‘I can’t stand watching my mum cry all the time because she doesn’t know what’s going on with Charlie.’ Adam sat back and watched a man at another table light up a cigarette. ‘And I can’t stand waiting for the time to be right for my dad to go. So I’m doing it. Going tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yeah, one o’clock flight from Heathrow.’

  ‘Where’d you get the money, Ad?’

  ‘You really don’t want to know … but I need your help.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘I’m going to leave a note saying that we’ve gone away for a few days … you don’t have to do anything – and they don’t know how to get in touch with you – but don’t tell anyone where I am, not even Andy.’ Adam could smell the cigarette, could almost feel the chemical reaction as he breathed it in; smell it, want it, like when you went past a fast-food restaurant.

  ‘You shouldn’t’ve told me then, should you? Cos if you hadn’t, then I really wouldn’t know.’

  Adam frowned; there she was, being practical again. ‘I had to tell someone, Suze … I’ve been inside my head with it all since last night and had to run it past someone.’

  ‘You normally run something past a person before you do it.’

  ‘OK, so I said it wrong, sorree …’ Adam got up, not looking at her. ‘You want a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Coke?’

  ‘OK.’

  This was not how he’d wanted it to be. He wouldn’t see Suzy again till he got back from Tokyo and he needed to know she was with him on this, really behind the idea. He took their drinks back to the table and sat down.

  Suzy reached over and took Adam’s hand. ‘I always say the wrong things, don’t I?’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘Often, I know I do.’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘You expect something, a reaction, and I don’t know what it is.’

  ‘What it is now is that I don’t want to end this with an argument.’

  ‘End what?’

  ‘This, here. End up going home and off to Tokyo.’

  ‘I do care, Ad.’

  ‘Yeah, I know you do, you just have a weird way of showing it sometimes.’

  They sat in an awkward silence for a moment or two, neither quite sure where things were heading, then Suzy poured the last of the Coke into her glass. ‘I won’t say anything, promise … but are you sure this is the right thing to do?’

  ‘Gotta do something, Suze, make an effort.’ Adam took a deep, deep breath. ‘My house, it’s like we’re all waiting for the axe to fall, for the call that …’ He stopped, like something was stuck in his throat.

  ‘That what, Ad?’

  ‘They think she’s dead, like that other girl … my mum’s already talking about her like she’s not coming back, it’s like she’s given up without trying. She can’t help it, Suze, my gran’s dying and my granpa’s gone into meltdown, too. So I’m going to bloody go and try to find her.’

  ‘But if you disappear, won’t that completely freak your parents? I mean both of you gone – and your grandparents? Sounds like that could really do your mum in.’

  ‘I won’t’ve disappeared, Suze, just gone away … I’ll be with you, right? Just away somewhere.’ Adam looked at Suzy looking back at him and he knew she’d realised he was making this up as he went along. ‘If I’m away for a while I’ll ring them, let them know I’m OK …’

  ‘How long d’you think you’ll be away?’

  Adam measured a spoonful of sugar into his now almost frothless, tepid cappuccino and stirred it. ‘Back Friday after next, at the latest.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  Adam stopped stirring. Where was he staying? All he’d thought about was getting himself to Tokyo, not really any further than that.

  ‘I, uh … I was gonna sort that out when I got there.’

  Suzy shook her head, smiling at him. ‘Capsule hotels.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I read it in a magazine. In Tokyo they have these kind of pods, sort of plastic boxes stacked one on top of another? You sleep in them, one person per pod. They’re called capsule hotels and the article said they have them by the main stations, for people who’re too wrecked to get home.’

  ‘That right?’ Adam grinned back at Suzy, thinking that sometimes being practical had its advantages.

  Suzy smiled back. ‘Absolute fact. Want to come back to my pod?’

  12

  Fooding space

  Most mornings his parents were out of the house by eight thirty, at the latest. You could just about set your watch by them. But this last week everything had been shot to hell, no rhythm, no familiar pattern. In some godawful practical demonstration of Sod’s Law it was ten past nine and, while his dad had left, his mother still hadn’t gone. With her in the house, he was not going to be able to swan out of the front door with a stuffed backpack without her asking him at least a couple of questions he’d find hard to answer. Lying to his mum was not something Adam had ever been very good at.

  He should be able to just waltz downstairs and ask her nonchalantly how come she was still at home. It’d be the most natural thing to do, engage her in conversation, find out if she was going off to see her parents or whatever. But he did not feel at all nonchalant; his bag was packed and he’d already checked he’d got his money, passport, credit card and e-ticket at least three times. He was not relaxed. The note he’d written, explaining that he was going away with Suzy – no names, just referring to her as ‘his girlfriend’ – was sealed up in an envelope, waiting to be left on the dresser in the hall. There was nothing left to do but leave; he was ready to go, he was on a schedule, and he was trapped in his room.

  Adam paced up and down and waited for the tell-tale sound of the front door closing and his mum’s car starting up. What was she doing? Why didn’t she go? If she’d decided to stay at home all day – which, as she’d taken compassionate leave from work because of Charlie and Grangie, could well be the case – what the hell was he going to do? He was building up such a nice head of stressed
-out steam that he didn’t hear his name being called until it was accompanied by a rap on his door.

  ‘Are you there, Adam?’

  His head snapped round at the sound of his mother’s voice – kee-ryst, she was going to come in and see his bloody backpack!

  ‘Yeah … sure …’ He kicked the bag under his desk and sat down, as if he was working on the computer. ‘What is it?’

  The door opened. ‘You must’ve been miles away, I was calling from downstairs.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Adam nodded at the computer screen, feeling his face flush. ‘I was thinking about the stuff I’ve got to do for college. Did you want something?’

  ‘Just to say goodbye.’

  ‘OK, Mum, see you later.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ His mother came into the room and walked over towards where he was sitting. ‘You look, I don’t know, nervous.’

  Adam stood up and moved away from the desk. ‘No, I’m fine … it must be, you know, everything that’s going on.’

  His mum smiled, a pale imitation of her normal full-beam grin. ‘Come here.’ She put her arms around him and gave him a hug. ‘Your dad’s gone to the Foreign Office today to find out what’s been happening, what the Japanese police have been doing.’ She stood back, sniffing, blinking her eyes and not looking directly at him. ‘I’ll call you as soon as, um, as soon as I know anything, promise.’

  ‘OK, Mum, hope … you know, hope everything’s OK.’

  ‘Me too.’ she turned to go. ‘Work hard …’

  Adam waited a good ten minutes, just in case his mum was still in the area, and then belted out of the house. He was a couple of houses down the road when he remembered he had neither double-locked the front door nor left the letter on the dresser. Cursing his dullard stupidity, he stormed back, unlocked the door, hauled the envelope out of his backpack, put it at eye level on one of the dresser shelves and was back out of the door, slamming it behind him, in seconds.

  What he couldn’t know was that, when he slammed the door, the envelope fell off the shelf and landed face down on top of a pile of postal detritus that only ever got looked at when it appeared likely to topple over. Later that evening, when his parents came home, his father would put the first of many pieces of junk mail on top of it.

  The tube was the cheapest way out to Heathrow, but it was a long, long ride with plenty of time to think about what he was doing, plenty of opportunity to change his mind. Once he’d got on to the Piccadilly line at King’s Cross it was twenty-six stops before he’d arrive at his destination. Twenty-six chances to get off and take the next train back home.

  Approaching Knightsbridge was the first time he got it bad. The panic attack – that what he was doing was foolish, ridiculous, a totally crap idea – gave him the sweats, but he sat through South Ken and Gloucester Road and by the time the train stopped at Earl’s Court he was back in charge. So what if it was foolish, ridiculous and crap? It wasn’t wrong, and that, in the end, was what counted.

  As the tube pulled into Northfields, with only eight stations to go, Adam felt the tension building again. He was about to get on a plane and fly who knew how many thousands of miles to a place where he knew no one – didn’t even know where he was going to stay, for chrissake – and basically go missing. What if his parents didn’t buy into the idea that he’d buggered off with his girlfriend (who they didn’t know) and they freaked out? He’d just be causing them more hassle and heartache.

  At Hounslow West he actually got up, ready to exit the train, determined that he was going to catch the next eastbound tube, but as the doors opened he remembered his mum’s face, remembered that part of her was beginning to believe Charlie was dead, and the fact that all his dad had been able to do so far was visit the Foreign Office. He’d sat back down before the doors had closed and he stayed where he was until the train rolled to a halt at the Heathrow Terminals 1, 2 and 3 stop. This was it.

  Adam thought, as he got off the train and started the walk up to the check-in desks, that his mind was made up. No more backtracking, he was going to go to Tokyo. But then he checked his watch, again, saw he actually still had fifteen minutes till he had to check-in and found himself veering off to a coffee shop and ordering a cappuccino he didn’t really want. What he wanted was fifteen more minutes’ grace, until there were no more chances to change his mind. As soon as his backpack was tagged and checked in, his last exit would absolutely and finally be closed.

  Next stop would be passport control, then X-ray, then airside.

  He sat on a high stool at a small, round table and watched the ebb and flow of people, like ants in a nest, all with destinations, all with reasons of their own why they were here. Some were probably running away – without telling anybody where they were going – from something or someone; others were possibly going off to begin a new life, maybe even in a place they’d never been to before, but he doubted any of the people he was watching were as alone as he was right then. He even allowed himself to admit that he was scared and, having let that thought loose, he was puzzled but happy to find that he felt better now he no longer had to physically make himself ignore the fact.

  At five minutes to eleven he got up, left his hardly touched coffee and walked towards the snaking queue that would take him inexorably to one of the ladies sitting under a sign announcing Virgin Atlantic VS900 Tokyo.

  ‘Is that it, sir, one item of luggage?’

  ‘And this.’ Adam held up the small bag he’d brought with him; while waiting in the queue, he’d taken it out of his backpack and loaded it with his mp3 player, sunglasses, spare batteries, passport, e-ticket, money and the Rough Guide.

  ‘Fine, sir.’ The woman smiled. ‘Did you pack this bag yourself?’ Adam nodded. ‘Was it out of your sight at any time?’ Adam shook his head. ‘Did anyone give you anything to take with you?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  The woman printed out a baggage ticket, attached it to the backpack and then sent it off into the bowels of Heathrow. Adam realised the next time he saw it he’d be in Japan. Still sweaty-palmed from when he’d had to hand over the credit card he’d used to pay for the ticket online – the check-in lady had hardly glanced at it – his stomach now felt like it was a negative space, like everything had been sucked out of it.

  ‘Flight’s quite full, sir, but you can have the choice of a couple of window seats.’ The woman checked the screen in front of her. ‘They’re near the back, or I have a few of aisle seats further towards the wing. Otherwise it’s going to be a middle seat in the centre section – do you have a preference?’

  Adam hadn’t flown that much, but whenever he’d had a window seat he’d always felt hemmed in, any advantage gained by having a view lost because you had no freedom of movement.

  ‘An aisle seat, please.’

  The woman tapped a few keys on a keyboard he couldn’t see, waited a moment or two and then, smiling, handed Adam his passport, e-documentation and a card folder with his outbound docket and seat number.

  ‘Have a good flight, and enjoy your stay in Japan, sir.’

  Five minutes later he was sitting down at a café in the departure lounge with a hot panini and another coffee. While he waited for the toasted sandwich to cool down Adam texted Suzy that he was at the airport and to text him when she got out of her Spanish tutorial. Then he sat back, relaxed for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. Now he was on the move, now the only way he could go was forward and, one way or another, he would find out what had happened to Charlie. He would do that.

  He didn’t care how much trouble he was going to be in, and he knew, no matter what happened, he was going to be in some deep, deep shit when he got home. The feeling that he was doing something, that he was the one who’d got up off his arse and gone for it, was worth whatever they might throw at him. Adam picked up the panini, blew on it and took a bite. Which was when his phone started to ring.

  He checked the screen: Suzy. He flipped the phone open. ‘Hi.’

 
; ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Departure lounge.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Lounging.’

  ‘Ha-ha … has your gate come up yet?’

  Adam looked over at the nearest screen. ‘Nope, still “Wait in lounge”.’

  ‘Why d’you sound odd?’

  ‘Mouthful of food, I was starving … couldn’t eat breakfast this morning, my mum didn’t leave the house till twenty past nine.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘As good as it gets.’

  ‘Promise you’ll email when you get there … they have to have Internet cafés there, right?’

  ‘You’d think … I’ll check in the guidebook, I’ve got plenty of time to read it.’ Out of the corner of his eye Adam saw the lines of text on the screen hanging down from the ceiling flicker and change; he focused on the display. ‘Got a gate number, Suze.’

  ‘Be careful, Ad, please be careful …’

  ‘I’m not going to be acting like some stupid superhero or anything …’

  ‘Be back soon …’

  Adam could hear Suzy’s voice breaking. ‘Don’t cry, Suze …’

  ‘I love you.’ Click. Silence.

  Adam sat, phone still open, connected to nothing. She’d never said she loved him before. Not like that. Weird thing was, he realised he had no idea what he would have replied if she hadn’t cut the call.

  13

  I may be passed if you are speednuts

  Adam was surprised to find that a lot of the Virgin cabin crew were Japanese, not English. As he walked through the plane to his seat he found himself being politely welcomed, smiled at and bowed to, and by the time he’d sat down he felt he was already in a foreign country.

  He had certainly never flown in this kind of plane before. Even back in cattle class each seat had its own TV screen and hand-held remote/games handset – what the hell did you get up in first class? – and like the check-in lady had said, almost every seat was taken. It seemed as if the majority of passengers were Japanese tourists on their way home; Adam watched smartly dressed middle-aged Japanese ladies, all cream silk, pearls and cashmere, hurrying up and down the aisles armed with clip boards and biros, fussing like mother hens as they checked off ‘their’ people.