An Ocean Apart

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An Ocean Apart Page 24

by Robin Pilcher


  Do keep in touch. Faxes are wonderful—that is, as long as people on the other side of the world send them during our daytime! (A little hint!)

  All my love,

  Mama.

  David folded up the fax and placed it beside him on the floor. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, and instantly his mind was filled once more with weighty feelings of guilt and self-reproach for taking the job. Okay, so it had been a snap decision, but he would never have been able to afford the luxury of making it if he hadn’t had his parents on hand to step into the breach.

  Maybe he should just pack up and go home now. But there again, what was the point? This new marketing director had just started, so his job would be taken, albeit on a temporary basis, and the appointment would certainly take the onus off his father and allow him to return to his retirement. So what would he do? He certainly didn’t want to go back to work in the garden. Well, not that one, at any rate. That would be a retrograde step, and he was past all that. But then again, he would have nothing to occupy his mind, and he would just open himself up to the danger of slipping back to where he had been before.

  But what about the children? Were they now not only deprived of a mother, but a father as well? But in a way that was just a negative thought, because even though they probably had not given an enormous amount of reasoning to their decision, their instincts also had been to get away from Inchelvie and return to the different but happy environment of their school.

  He pushed himself out of the chair and walked out into the garden, and stood looking out across the bay. No, they had each made the right decision, and their respective changes would help to start the long healing process. And at the end of term, that would be the time when they would get back together, refreshed and renewed.

  He turned and made his way purposefully back towards the house, a plan beginning to form in his mind. Right, so he would return to Scotland at the end of June, a week before the children broke up for their summer holidays, and he would immediately take them off somewhere exciting and new, somewhere they could all make a fresh start at being a family once more.

  He went into the living-room and, sitting down at the desk, he scribbled off half a dozen lines to his mother, laying it on top of the fax machine to send the following morning. Then, taking a piece of stationery from one of the cubby-holes on Carrie’s desk, he set about writing a long letter to his dear, sweet, intuitive Sophie.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  Benji sat on the bench outside Leesport Middle School, listening to the shouts of his fellow pupils fade off into the distance as they made their way down the road towards main street. He got up and kicked at his school-bag that lay on the sidewalk, and looked at his watch. Come on, Germaine, it was twenty past four. He was the last one again.

  He heard the main door of the school bang shut behind him and turned to see two boys come running down the path towards him. Recognizing one of them as Sean Dalaglio, his best friend in elementary school, he walked over to the end of the path to meet him.

  “Hi, Sean! How’re you doing?”

  Sean walked past without looking at him, acknowledging his greeting with only a surly grunt. Benji watched them tittering secretly with each other before heading off down the road, now roaring with laughter and trying to push each other off the sidewalk.

  He walked back to the bench, scraping his shoes along the ground, feeling the horrible and uncontrollable sensation of imminent tears build up inside him. He hated school. He hated everyone in the school, because he knew that they hated him. He sat down with a thump on the bench and opened up the side pocket of his school-bag and took out a candy bar. Why did his mother have to make him get a lift every day from that dumb Germaine? Everyone else walked to and from school, and they were all right. It was only ’cos she thought it wasn’t safe. He even had to pay one of the boys to go down to the shops for him at lunch-time to get him his treats. It cost him twice as much as it should do for a candy bar, and because his pocket money didn’t cover the cost, he had to sneak into his parents’ bedroom at a time when Jasmine was busy downstairs to search the drawers of his father’s desk for loose change. He felt guilty every time he did it, but then it was their fault. If they allowed him a bit more freedom, then he wouldn’t have to do such a dishonest thing.

  He glanced at his watch again. It was half past four. Come on, where are you, Germaine?

  Adults were so … selfish. They only did what they wanted to do, what suited them best. Why did both his parents have to work? He knew his father must be pretty well off, because he always had big cars and quite often he had someone to drive them for him, and their house was one of the biggest in Leesport. He had lived there all his life, so it must have been bought when his mother wasn’t working and was at home looking after him. It was so stupid. If she were home all the time now, then maybe she would see for herself that it was quite safe for him to walk to school.

  Oh, come on, Germaine! Where are you?

  What it all boiled down to was he only had one real friend and that was Jasmine. She could be pretty bossy sometimes, but she always played games with him if he wanted to. But it wasn’t the same with her as it had been when Sean used to come round to his house. Anyway, she was probably going to get all pally with that idiotic Scottish gardener. Well, he was pretty dumb thinking that he was drowning, and then he had started yelling at him. How did he think he could get away with that? He’d only just started working for his parents. He was both stupid and rude—but then, that was probably why he was only a gardener. He didn’t have brains like his own father, who was able to run a huge computer firm. Jasmine didn’t have a boyfriend, though. Ugh, he couldn’t stand it if they started dating each other!

  He looked at his watch again and gave his school-bag another hefty kick. He stood up from the bench and started to walk up and down the sidewalk.

  If only he could do something at school that would make everyone realize that he was all right. If only he could prove himself in some way. But how? He had tried his hardest at football, but he was much slower than the other guys on the team and could never keep up with the game, and as far as baseball was concerned, he was always striking out or dropping the ball. He had thought about entering this talent competition for poetry and music that the teachers were running, but they were putting each entry out over the school PA system every morning, and he knew that everyone would just laugh if he did something. It was all just so … hopeless!

  He looked at his watch again. It was ten to five. He went back to the bench and picked up his bag. He was not going to wait any longer for stupid Germaine. If he walked home, then she would have to come looking for him, and that would serve her right, and hopefully Jasmine would chew her out. He slung his bag onto his shoulder and, glancing once more up the road to make sure that Germaine’s car wasn’t in view, he set off towards the village.

  He enjoyed every minute of his illicit freedom, taking time to gaze into the shop windows in the main street as he passed by, eventually ending up buying himself a chocolate milk and a blueberry muffin in the deli. He munched his way to the top of Barker Lane and considered going on to the country club to watch some tennis, but thought better of it, knowing that Jasmine would be wondering where he was. Anyway, more than likely there would be some of his fellow pupils there being coached, and he certainly didn’t want to see them. He turned down Barker Lane and headed for home at a slow, meandering pace.

  He had walked far enough down the driveway of the house to see that the gardener’s car was still parked by the shed when he heard the scrunch of gravel at the head of the drive as a car turned in. He turned and watched as Germaine’s green Jeep came roaring in, coming to an abrupt halt beside him. Without turning off the engine, Germaine jumped out, a look of fury on her weaselly face.

  “Where in God’s name did you get to? I have been waiting for you outside that school for the past quarter of an hour, and I tell you, my boy, that I have one hundred and one better things t
o do than to hang around for you!”

  “But you were very late, Germaine,” Benji said quietly.

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m late. Your mother pays me to pick you up every day, so you just wait until I get there. Is that understood?”

  “Okay,” Benji said, looking down at his shoes. He heard the back door of the kitchen open and raised his eyes high enough to see Jasmine running along the path towards them.

  “So don’t you ever leave there again without me. Is that understood?”

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Jasmine asked as she reached them.

  “This stupid boy walked home today,” Germaine said, her teeth gritted in fury. “I have been sitting for at least fifteen minutes outside that wretched school waiting for him to come out, only to find that he’s taken it upon himself to walk, expressly against the wishes of his mother, and I think you should give him a real good talking-to.”

  “Oh, do you?” Jasmine said, folding her arms and nodding slowly, “and what time, Germaine, did you arrive at the school to pick him up?”

  Germaine started to bite at her lip. “That is irrelevant! He’s supposed to stay there until such time as I decide to arrive.”

  “And what time did you decide to arrive today, Germaine?” Jasmine asked again quietly.

  The frown on Germaine’s brow deepened visibly as she became increasingly more angry. “I got there in plenty of time to pick him—”

  “Okay, if I can’t get a straight answer from you,” Jasmine interjected, “I’ll ask Benji.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Benji?”

  “I left at ten to five, Jasmine, because I didn’t think that—”

  “Ten to five!” She glared at Germaine, her eyes like thunder. “Ten to five! That’s thirty-five minutes late! Where on earth were you? You know he comes out at quarter past four.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that? Who do you think you are, you black—”

  “I think you have said quite enough!” The voice came from such an angle that no one saw him approach. They all turned to see David walking across the lawn, a rake in his hand, with Dodie skipping along at his heels. Germaine looked at them both, a quizzical sneer on her face.

  “And who the hell might you be?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “I think you’ve said quite enough, so probably the best thing you can do right now is just get back in your car and leave, all right?”

  Germaine looked from one to the other, then, turning on her heel with a yell of anger, she jumped back into her car, slamming the door behind her. She let down the window. “I’m going to make damned sure that Jennifer hears about this. I’ll call her at the office.”

  “You do just that,” Jasmine said slowly.

  Germaine let out another cry of frustration, and having executed a noisy three-point turn, she threw up a middle finger as a parting gesture and roared back up the drive, spraying gravel onto the lawn as she went.

  Having watched in silence as the car disappeared around the bend in the drive, Jasmine turned to Benji and put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, I think you acted real grown up, darlin’, and I’m proud of you, so you’ve gone and done nothin’ wrong as far as I’m concerned, okay?”

  Benji looked up at her and smiled.

  “Now, why don’t you go and get yourself some chocolate milk out of the fridge, and I’ll be in right after I’ve had a word with David.”

  Benji’s face fell visibly, and giving a sullen glance in David’s direction, he walked off towards the kitchen door. They stood silently watching him until he had entered the house.

  “Oh, goddammit!” Jasmine exclaimed, slapping her hand hard against her thigh. “That really takes the cake!”

  David shook his head. “Who was that, anyway?”

  “That was Germaine. She takes—or should I say, has been taking Benji to and from school every day. She is always late for him, and today she was so late that Benji walked home. That was what all the shouting was about. What a b she is! Oh, hell, now what are we going to do?”

  “Look, if you want, you can always borrow my car and take him,” David suggested.

  Jasmine raised her eyebrows. “That’s very kind of you, David. It would be a great idea if I could drive!”

  “Ah,” David said, nodding in realization of the problem in hand. “Right. Well, in that case, the other alternative is that I could take him to school and pick him up—that is, if you agree with it. I mean, I’m here anyway, so it would seem to make sense—wouldn’t it?”

  Jasmine focused her eyes up the drive for a moment as she pondered the proposition, then turned to him, a smile on her face.

  “Would you mind doing that?”

  “Not at all. I’d be delighted.”

  “We’d have to clear it with Jennifer.”

  “Of course.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, thinking about it, Jasmine, I wonder if we should consider clearing it first with Benji? I mean, I’m not exactly the flavour of the month right at this minute.”

  “Yup, I think that’s a great idea.” She grinned. “Just wish I’d thought of it. C’mon, let’s go inside and ask him.”

  David stayed where he was. “Jasmine?”

  “Yuh?”

  “I wonder if you would mind if I did it. I really would like to clear up the misunderstanding that we had yesterday.”

  Jasmine nodded and moved off towards the house. “Okay. C’mon then.”

  They walked back along the path and up the steps to the kitchen door. As Jasmine opened it, she paused for a moment before turning back to David. “Listen, thanks for what you did back there.”

  David waved his hand dismissively. “Och, it was nothing. She was just a very stupid woman!”

  “No, it meant a lot to me and I think probably to Benji as well. So thanks from both of us.”

  She started to go into the kitchen, but then stopped and turned to him once more. “Och!”

  David looked at her. “What?”

  “You said ‘Och!’ Now I know that that is Scottish!” She let out a laugh and entered the kitchen, leaving David to shut the door behind him.

  Although there were tell-tale signs of Benji’s having been there, like the open chocolate-milk carton being still on the table, he had obviously thought of something other to do than watch television. Jasmine walked over to the French doors and scanned the garden, but seeing no sign of him, she turned and motioned David to follow her through to the house. They went into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs, and Jasmine called out for him. Benji’s muffled voice replied from somewhere above.

  “He’s in his bedroom,” Jasmine said quietly. “If you go upstairs, turn left on the landing and it’s the furthest room on the right, okay? Tell me how it went when you’re through, so’s I can give Jennifer a call. Good luck!”

  David gave her the thumbs-up and headed up the stairs. He walked along to the end of the landing and hesitated for a moment outside Benji’s door, working out how best he could eat humble pie before finally knocking.

  “Yeah?” Benji’s voice answered from inside.

  “Benji, it’s, erm, David. Would you mind if I came in for a moment?”

  There was silence.

  “Benji?”

  “If you have to.”

  David pulled a face at this less than hopeful response and walked into the room. The boy was lying on his stomach on the bed, playing intently with a Game Boy, never raising his eyes for a second to acknowledge David’s entry.

  David stood in the centre of the floor and pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans while surveying the room, trying to find some talking point with which he could break the ice. It was wallpapered throughout with images of Superman carrying out gravity-defying stunts with an assortment of beautiful women held close under his Lycraed armpit. Light flooded into the room through the large d
ormer window, and he walked over to look out at the unimpeded view of the Great South Bay and over to Fire Island beyond. To the left of the window, a row of shelves was stacked high with a vast array of technological toys and plastic models of grotesque comic-book heroes, and underneath these, covering the whole surface of Benji’s desk, was a computer system that looked complex and powerful enough to launch a rocket into space, its screen saver blipping out repetitive images that floated out to the surface of the screen before vanishing.

  “That’s pretty impressive,” David said, nodding at the computer. He turned to see if Benji had reacted in any way, but he was still engrossed in his Game Boy, pushing hard at its controls as it sang out little tunes to register his rate of success and failure. David decided to persevere by trying out some inbred knowledge.

  “I’m surprised you’re still playing with a Game Boy. You’ve got CD-ROM over here.”

  He walked over to the desk and picked up some of the CD games that were lying beside the computer. Benji sighed deeply at David’s unwelcome disturbance and pressed even harder at his controls.

  Realizing that he was getting nowhere, David decided that the only option left open to him was the direct approach. He was just about to turn round to speak to Benji when his eye was caught by a small ukulele, tucked away forgotten on the top shelf, its small body emblazoned with the words “Hi from Hawaii!” He reached up and took it down and plucked at the strings. It was completely out of tune. He began fiddling with the wooden tuning-pegs, twanging the strings, and once he had it reasonably in tune, he strummed off a couple of chords before reaching up to replace it on the shelf.

  “How d’you do that?”

  He swung round to find Benji watching him, his mouth open, the now silent Game Boy held limply in his hands.

  “What?”

  “I thought that was only a toy. You made it play a tune.”

  David looked up at the ukulele. “Well, I don’t suppose that one was specifically designed for playing.” He took down the ukulele once more. “Probably just a souvenir, but it’s got all its strings and it seems to work all right.”

 

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