Florida Key

by Neil Watson

  Later, while Leslie cooked their poolside meal, and Oliver quietly prepared the salad, the question Leslie was expecting was sure enough posed by his son. “Oliver, where exactly is Joliet?” Leslie began to respond.

  Not wanting to discourage Oliver’s natural interest, but equally appreciating that a journey of such distance would not be a practical possibility, he continued: “Hmm, so it’s near Chicago, is it? Have you any idea how far that is? It must be over a thousand miles from here. It may not look far on a Google map, but this is a big country. It would take us days to get there, and we’re only here for a two-week holiday!”

  Oliver, although mildly disappointed, accepted his dad’s logic without further argument, much to the surprise of Leslie. Being honest, he also didn’t really want to spend most of their holiday in a car, even as nice as the Mustang was. “I know. You’re right, Dad,” conceded Oliver. “But maybe I could come back after I’ve finished my A levels.”

  “Yes, maybe you could, son.” Leslie returned to the business of evenly browning the chicken wings, and wondered whether Oliver would remember this conversation once they were back in Wivenhoe. Knowing his son as he did, he guessed that he would.

  ***

  As they settled nicely into their holiday, their mornings would alternate between having breakfast at home by the pool and going out to eat at one of the many restaurants on the island serving huge dishes that would keep them going until their evening meal. Then, they might go their separate ways, with Oliver cycling off to explore another section of the island. Leslie was simply content just to relax by the pool, maybe walk across to Holmes Beach and swim in the ocean, have a beer, and listen to the sounds of crashing waves intermingling with the cries of the egrets that could be seen all along the sand. He’d had a tough couple of years, what with one thing and another back home, and he felt he really needed this break to unwind and do very little else.

  Oliver, on the other hand, was energetic and restless, keen to fill his time with as much activity as he could. This of course meant cycling dozens of miles, the length and breadth of the island, sometimes rather enviously watching the groups of people his age on the beaches, as they chatted and laughed, some of them throwing a Frisbee between them, some of them playing volleyball on a makeshift court. He couldn’t imagine how they were able to dart about in the sweltering heat, but nevertheless they did. He wished he had the courage to openly engage in conversation with strangers, just like Jean and Pat had done with him at the flea market. In truth, he felt a little, well, lonely.

  Oliver needn’t have worried. A minor miracle happened and his wish was granted! “Hey! Wanna join in? We need one more,” called out one of the girls to him as she held up a volleyball from where she stood on the beach.

  At first, Oliver looked behind him, assuming her question was being addressed to someone else. “No. I mean you, stupid!” she scorned, in fun.

  “I’d love to. Thank you,” Oliver replied, leaning his bike against a palm tree and walking towards them.

  “Thank you!!!” falsely mocked the girl. “How frightfully proper! I do say, are you British by any chance?” she asked, imitating his accent that she recognised from the TV. “I do so love your Downton Abbey show, it’s one of my favourites of all time!” she giggled.

  After the grunts, groans and shrieks that emanated from their match, lasting all of ten minutes, Oliver collapsed under the shade of a tree, and was quickly joined by the Downton Abbey girl and her friends, all keen to listen to their guest talk to them. Being somewhat more in tune with world affairs than the two women at the flea market, they didn’t ask whether Oliver had met the Queen—but they did want to hear about life in England and its capital city, its politics, culture, media and music. Oliver was introduced to all of them in turn, and he took on board the names of the girls more easily than the boys—particularly the very beautiful Sam, the one who’d persuaded him to join them.

  Oliver was delighted to have made some new friends, and was hopeful that they might meet again, especially Sam, who didn’t appear to be partnered with any of the boys. “Sure thing—we’ll be here again tomorrow, same time. Come down if you’re free,” offered one of the guys, whose name Oliver had already forgotten and was too shy to ask again.

  That evening, while Oliver was watching the giant TV after dinner, Leslie noticed that his son was even chirpier and more laid-back than previously. Then, when the words on the television read ‘COMING NEXT ON PBS: DOWNTON ABBEY’, Oliver laughed out loud, and told his dad why.

  In bed later, Oliver was excited about the following day and the chance to see Sam again. As was his habit before turning off the light, he picked up his tablet to check his emails, Facebook and Instagram. It was still open at the internet page on which he’d been researching Joliet prison earlier. He glanced across at the key situated on his bedside cabinet, his very own Florida Key, and he felt a very positive sixth sense feeling. He knew without doubt that the key would be the reason why he’d be returning to America. He just wasn’t certain about when, or how, that might be.

  CHAPTER 18

  (THURSDAY, 11TH – FRIDAY, 12TH JUNE, 2015)

  Blossoming Romance

  T he sun shone in through the bedroom window and woke Oliver even before his 7.00a.m. iPhone alarm, as he’d forgotten to close the curtains the night before. He immediately visualised the day ahead, hoping that, as promised, Sam and the others would be on the beach again. Feeling something cold brush against his arm, he felt around to discover that the Florida Key, as he now called it, had remained on the bed with him throughout the night. Though thoughts of Sam were on his mind, his key and his bike came a close second.

  Having arranged to go with his dad to the nearby Peaches Restaurant for breakfast, he waited patiently for his father to rise, and continued with his research as he did so. It was amazing what was on the internet, he thought to himself. From the comfort of his bed, he was able to look up various facts and figures about the institution that first housed inmates in 1858, and finally closed its doors for the last time as an active prison at the turn of the millennium, with many of its former ‘guests’ being transferred to nearby Stateville Correctional Center. The building had then been left to fall into disrepair, but nowadays, after extensive renovation, it had been turned into a tourist attraction. While the repairs were being carried out, site construction workers would have enjoyed easy pickings of souvenirs to sell on to collectors, who in turn were eager to snap up a piece of the prison’s history. Oliver guessed this was how his key had eventually found its way to a Florida flea market several years later.

  During its operational years, it would have housed thousands of people, many of them ‘lifers’. Once again, Oliver’s mind drifted into another space and time, as he speculated what some of these people had served, or were still serving, time for. What were the cells like? What were conditions like?

  As he tapped his iPad and scrolled the pages, his fingers held the key’s ‘bow’, the name of the section used to turn the blade, according to the diagram he was looking at. He wondered how many times the guards had turned this particular bow, locking their prisoners behind them? Perhaps even Pat’s cousin had!

  Each question answered led to another unanswered, and Oliver only had access to some general information that was freely available to the public. But one thing became clear as he continued reading the websites and their statistics about the people who’d lived there, incarcerated for days, months or years—all would have had their own story to tell. Just like Jean had said about the hundreds of different keys in her glass cabinet.

  Startled by a knock at the door and the call of his dad alerting him to be ready soon, Oliver closed the cover on his iPad and quickly dressed. Here in Florida, on holiday, it only took seconds to find a t-shirt to go with his shorts and sandals. Grabbing his phone, he took a rushed photo of his key, planning to show it to Sam later, assuming she’d show up. Hoping very much that she would.

  At Peaches, he and his
dad enjoyed a very large, and probably quite unhealthy breakfast. Regardless, they both casually ate with abandon—at least this would set them up for the rest of the day. As they ploughed through the bacon, fried egg, hash browns, maple syrup and cream—all piled on the same plates—Oliver told his dad he’d be meeting his volleyball friends later. Leslie couldn’t have been more pleased, having hoped that his son might make some friends sooner or later, for one simple reason. Oliver’s news alleviated his guilt. All Leslie wanted to do was much the same as he’d done yesterday, and hopefully tomorrow and the next day—absolutely nothing.

  Under the same palm tree where he’d sat the day before, Oliver waited for the volleyball players to show up, anxious that they might not. But he needn’t have worried, and after playing another exhausting match, they all collapsed on to the sand, and shared out chilled fruit juices and bottled water from their cool bag, including one of each for Oliver.

  They chatted some more, revealing more details about themselves. It transpired that they’d all grown up either on Anna Maria, or in nearby Tampa or Sarasota, and they were all students currently on holiday on Anna Maria. Although Sam no longer lived in Florida full-time, her family still owned a house on the other side of the island that they visited every year for their summer vacations. “Why don’t you come on over?” she asked Oliver. “It’s not far, maybe twenty minutes on your bike. We are close by an inland waterway that you can paddle on, and we’ve got two kayaks we can take out. It’ll be fun, and you can get to meet my folks.”

  As Oliver was thinking things couldn’t be getting any better, they just had, and he gratefully accepted Sam’s invitation. “What’s your number? I’ll text you where it is,” she asked, smiling. Seconds later, Oliver’s phone went ‘ting’, and he was looking at a text message from Samantha Dickinson containing a Google map that pinpointed the exact location of her family’s house. “Come over around eleven tomorrow and I’ll have the kayaks ready.”

  As he closed the map app on his phone, the photo of his key showed up on the screen. Deciding to save telling Sam about it until tomorrow, he spent the rest of a pleasant afternoon with her and the others, before returning home to his dad, who didn’t look like he’d moved since going home after breakfast.

  ***

  Oliver had never kayaked before, even though he lived in Wivenhoe, by the River Colne. When the tide was up, he’d often see canoeists and kayakers paddling, while he cycled along the riverside path, but it had never occurred to him until now that he might like to give it a try. It must have been the holiday air, he told himself, but more likely it was Sam. When he arrived at her house, he was still a little apprehensive as to whether he’d manage okay on the water. Sam sensed his anxiety and did her best to dispel it. “Just follow what I do, and you’ll be fine. Come on in the house first, and meet my mother and father,” she warmly invited her guest.

  Sam had been waiting for him with the same broad smile she always wore, and was keen to introduce her new English friend to her parents, who were standing together in the kitchen. Oliver could see where Sam got her good looks from, observing her mum’s beautiful straight, brown hair.

  Her father, with bushy black eyebrows and a tall frame, probably a foot taller than his wife, had a rather endearing, permanent friendly grin that made Oliver feel instantly at ease. As they politely shook hands, Sam’s mum smiled warmly and demanded that Oliver call them by their first names, Kerry and Chris. Kerry suggested he join them for lunch later on the veranda. “Sometimes, you can sit outside and see the manatees swim. They’re just beautiful to watch,” she continued.

  Oliver didn’t know what a manatee was, but not wishing to appear ignorant, he simply said “Really? Wow!” and made a mental note to ask Sam for a ‘manatee explanation’ later.

  Another mental note he made later, after clambering out of his kayak at the end of their paddle, was that he should join the Wivenhoe Canoe and Kayak Club as soon as he returned home. The experience of paddling had been such great fun, and much easier than he’d thought it would be. Not only that, Sam didn’t need to explain what a manatee was, because they were lucky enough to have witnessed one in the sea. The slow-moving creature that resembled a small elephant without a trunk, was swimming gracefully under the surface, minding its own business, within just a few yards of their boats. Oliver hadn’t expected that an underwater mammal would have made such an impact on his emotions—but he suspected it was more to do with the person he was with than the animal itself.

  Sam was also very happy to be with her new companion, and listened attentively as Oliver engagingly answered her parents’ questions at the dining table over lunch. Perhaps it was his English accent that she found so charming and attractive, but she also recognised a kind-natured quality in Oliver that she really admired. She hoped that their meeting might lead to more than just the kind of short-lived holiday romance she’d experienced before.

  Her parents may as well have been reading her mind, based on how the conversation developed at a rate of knots. There had been something Oliver was plainly keen to talk to Sam about, and the opportunity came up perfectly when asked by Chris about what he wanted to do with his life after completing college. Explaining that his ambition was to become a journalist or writer, Oliver then went on to describe his story of purchasing the key from the flea market. Everyone around the table was fascinated with his account of how he’d felt compelled to buy it, and his subsequent discovery of its origin.

  “Well, my! Isn’t that a wonder?” exclaimed Kerry. “You know, Joliet isn’t too far away from where we live near Indianapolis, Oliver. Probably only about 200 miles. You could come stay with us if you wanted to research more.” Chris nodded in agreement. Absolutely delighted with Chris and Kerry’s kind offer, Oliver was fast learning that long distances in America meant less than back at home. To travel two hundred miles from Wivenhoe would have been considered a real trek, but here a journey of that distance was just a casual trip up the road, so to speak. He thanked Mr. and Mrs. Dickinson for their invitation, telling them that he would love to do that one day.

  That night, Oliver recounted the brilliant day he’d had with Sam and her parents to his dad, while at the same time Googling where exactly Indianapolis was in proximity to other large cities that he’d heard of, like Kansas City, Columbus, St. Louis, Chicago and Cincinnati. Oliver’s mind raced ahead, quicker than he could speak, concluding excitedly that he should definitely take up his girlfriend’s parents’ offer. “Woah! Come on!” Did he just hear himself describe Sam as his ‘girlfriend’? “Don’t get ahead of the situation here,” he maturely checked himself. “Indianapolis is a world apart from Wivenhoe.”

  America was indeed an enormous country, he considered, and to have met some people who lived only two hundred miles from where his Florida Key came from must surely be fate. And it would definitely be no hardship spending more time with Sam. As he chuckled happily to himself, he couldn’t believe his luck. Now, as well as knowing that he would be coming back, although not knowing precisely when, he at least had a firm idea of how.

  CHAPTER 19

  (SATURDAY, 13TH – SATURDAY, 20TH JUNE, 2015)

  Studious Research

  F or the rest of the holiday, Sam and Oliver became inseparable. It was a relationship neither of them could have dreamed of. They were good for one another, and the more worldly-wise Sam had an immediate effect on Oliver, who soon stepped up to the mark, quickly maturing far beyond his 17 years of age. They would spend every one of their remaining days together until it was sadly time for Oliver and his dad to leave. Leslie also became a guest of the family as well, having been invited, with Oliver, over for dinner with the Dickinsons on the penultimate evening of their holiday before flying back to London. Oliver had already introduced Sam to his dad when she’d been over for a barbecue by the pool, but Leslie hadn’t yet met her parents, and to the relief of the loved-up teenagers, they all got on extremely well.

  After a delicious meal on the Dicki
nson’s veranda, with Oliver and Sam pointing out the manatees swimming only yards away, the conversation flowed comfortably. “Leslie,” Chris began, puffing on his cigarette. “We, that’s Kerry and I, have told Oliver that he’s welcome to come back to stay with us whenever he wants, of course with your agreement. We understand he needs to complete his college studies over there in England, but he’s also told us so much about his ambition to become a writer, and we’d like to help in any way we can, maybe with his prison key project—it could become a great story, you know. Anyway, it’s been a pleasure to get to know him over the last week or so. He’s a great kid! And as Sam’s parents, it’s been real nice to see our daughter so happy.” Sam and Oliver went bright red in equal measure.

  “Well, I’ve seen him become quite obsessed with his key, and I know what he’s like once he gets a bee in his bonnet. It would be really good for him to have an assignment to work on,” Leslie replied.

  “A bee in his bonnet, Leslie? Whatever’s that?” laughed Kerry, never having heard the expression before.

  “Well, you know,” Leslie tried to explain, but with the effects of a few glasses of his hosts’ rather excellent Napa Valley Merlot running through his veins, he was having some difficulty. “You know, when someone gets a scratch under their skin, and can’t stop itching until it’s gone. . .no, I didn’t mean that. . .when someone can’t let a puzzle go until they’ve solved it. That sort of thing. You know?” Kerry and Chris did know, having heard about Oliver’s prison key on several occasions now.