by Mark Green
‘In Bangkok?’
She nodded. ‘Swapping my suitcase in the ladies loos, with a girl called Liz.’
‘Yeah … a Samsonite stuffed with skag. That’s a shrewd swap.’
She raised her finger, rested it on his lips. ‘Uh-uh. Breathe a word of that to anyone, and you’re dead.’
‘Having met that psychopath Fender, you’re not kidding.’
‘Exactly.’ She leaned forwards, brushing her lips against his. Bozzer lifted her up in his arms, pressing his chest into hers. Their lips parted briefly, eyes searching, mouths reconnecting. Firmly, passionately, their tongues tentatively probing, their bodies reacting, tingling, merging together—
‘Sir, madam.’
Maddie pulled back, giving the check-in clerk an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, got distracted.’ She slid her passport and ticket confirmation across the desk with Bozzer’s. He rested his hand around her hips, his palm warm, unfamiliar and pulsating with energy.
Maddie and Bozzer picked up their passports and boarding passes, then stepped away from the desk. Bozzer flicked his passport open as they wandered towards passport control, glancing at the photo page.
‘Crikey, I’ve aged well.’
Maddie looked over at her glamorous eighteen year old self, staring back at her from the shiny page. She opened Bozzer’s passport and grimaced. ‘Cheeky-looking chipmunk, weren’t you?’
‘Only the rare few get to change, Madeline.’ Bozzer winked and held out her passport, swapping it with his own. She held his gaze.
‘Yeah … what happened to her?’
‘She’s no more. Picked up a backpack, grew out of herself.’
‘Hmm … goodbye Maddie. Hello—’
‘Madge.’
She grinned. ‘Yeah, guess so …’
Bozzer held up his mobile phone and leant in towards her, pressing his lips onto her cheek. He simultaneously clicked the shutter icon, immortalising their happy faces on the small screen.
Shh-clitch …
Forty-Five
Shh-shuuush …
The ventilator hissed and sighed, the sound constant yet barely registering. Like the regular swoosh of tiny waves on a gently sloping beach. Bozzer smiled at a distant sensation, the soft tingle as their lips had slowly parted, recalled now with quick catch-up breaths. The vague taste of her first kiss, accompanied by prickly palms and heart-fluttering jolts of nervous energy deep inside. “This is kinda scary,” she’d said, her voice husky and uncertain.
Scary doesn’t even come close.
Bozzer stared at Madge’s virtually motionless form. Occasional intermittent beeps pipped from the array of monitoring equipment. His upright posture stooped over her. Protective, yet helpless.
Particularly helpless now …
Bozzer glanced over at the TV screen, on the opposite wall. A series of CNN images flickered: close ups of Jonny and Angel’s bewildered expressions as they waved goodbye to their hordes of fans at Rio de Janeiro Airport. Their homeward-bound plane taking off, its undercarriage folding up into its belly. The footage cut back to a reporter, nestled amidst the crowd of well-wishers, many wearing From Here to Eternity spoof tee-shirts.
Bozzer turned away from the TV screen, his attention diverted to a louder pneumatic hiss. The door to Madge’s private room eased open, revealing … Simon Black: financial backer, rainmaker and, today, heartbreaker.
‘It’s time, sport.’
Bozzer flicked his eyes back to the contours of Madge’s face, lingering there for a moment before he turned and nodded, his eyes listless.
The broken man, prepared to face his fate.
Bozzer shuffled up closer to the framework around the bed. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, then stayed there for a moment, gazing. Watching for any small movement, a flinch of recognition, an acknowledgement. But again, nothing. Save for the faint twitching of an eyelid. Consistent and unremarkable.
He sighed, then straightened up and shuffled towards Simon, loitering by the door.
‘Don’t forget to bring what I asked for.’
Bozzer turned back and reached over the chair beside the bed. He hooked the webbing strap of his padded camera case over his shoulder and followed Simon into the corridor, the soles of his flip-flops squeaking on the shiny vinyl floor.
• • •
Simon plucked the loose sheets of paper from the printer tray and bunched them into a tight wad, which he stapled together. He slid the paperwork across the desk. ‘Here we go again. You have something for me?’
Bozzer placed two passports on the table. Simon swept them into his palm and flicked the covers open, studying the identity page in each.
‘Excellent. So, to summarise: Madeline gets unlimited medical care at this hospital until such time as she can be discharged. During this time, you will tell me everything I want to know about your interaction with Jonathan Cork and Kate Thornley. You will advise them that Madeline is receiving excellent medical care, but tell them only what I instruct you to say. You will do anything else I ask of you until such time as I have them both back under my management.’
‘Why not just say: Barry, you’re my bitch.’
Simon grinned. ‘Perfectly put. Your girlfriend’s ongoing treatment, her life, rests solely in your hands. Because those hands are in my pocket.’
‘There’s the other thing,’ Bozzer mumbled. ‘My brother’s wedding …’
Simon flicked through the contract pages. ‘Clause twelve, item one. You’ve got twenty-four hours. You don’t return, Maddie’s treatment stops. You fail to dish the dirt on the eBay lovebirds, Maddie’s treatment stops. I can pull the plug at any point, if you step out of line. Now, in exchange for my generosity, and to guarantee your compliance, what else have you got for me?’
Bozzer reached down to the floor by his chair. He scooped up his padded camera bag and placed it on the desk. Simon pulled the bag towards him and unzipped it. He examined the contents, checking the camera and lenses. Then he opened the smaller storage pockets, withdrawing a plastic 35mm film container. He prised off the lid and tipped several memory cards into his palm.
‘Be careful with those, mate. I haven’t had a chance to back them up yet. They’re—’
‘Priceless?’
‘To me, yes,’ Bozzer murmured, holding eye contact with Simon.
‘Keep your word and they’ll be safe. You can have the camera back the moment you return from your brother’s shindig. I’ll hold onto the memory cards until you’ve fulfilled the rest of our agreement.’
‘I need the camera. I’m the wedding photographer.’
Simon shook his head. He jigged his palm, shuffling the memory cards back into the small container, then pocketed it. He zipped up the camera case and placed it onto the floor behind him. ‘It’s a nice bit of kit,’ Simon agreed, ‘looks expensive. But you might have made copies of the memory cards. You can borrow this, for the family snaps.’ Simon slid a compact digital camera across the table. ‘We’ll do a swap when you return.’
‘I can’t use that, I’m a professional. I need my own equipment—’
‘Then be professional enough to improvise.’ Simon peeled the pages of the contract open and held out a pen. ‘Save a life, sport – sign here.’
Other books in the series
Book 3 - The Travel Truth
Angel and JC return home from South America to a frenzy of worldwide public attention, putting their fledgling romance under the internet and media’s relentless scrutiny, challenging their feelings for each other.
Meanwhile, Madge and Bozzer have issues of their own to contend with, the result of which could have serious implications for their infamous same-name eBay travel buddies.
Whilst Bozzer’s camera never lies, cries or sighs, the four friends soon discover that people often pry, lie and say goodbye …
Book 4 - The Travel Angel
The new year brings a fresh outlook for JC and Angel. With the insanity of being international cele
brities waning, they are able to focus on redefining their relationship, leaving the revelations of The Travel Truth behind them.
But when a co-habitation complication forces a rethink, the same-name couple head north to Angel’s native Scotland in search of single-malt enlightenment and family reconciliation. During the trip they soon realise that their Christmas presents to each other have come with a hidden price tag, revealing a threat to their happiness much closer to home.
It seems that some gifts, however best intentioned, can’t be exchanged, refunded or reassigned …
Other books by Mark David Green
The Curse of the Lonesome Mariner
Harry Straight doesn’t want any complications in his life. Recently divorced, he’s about to set sail on a small boat along England’s south coast in order to reconcile with his estranged father. The last thing Harry needs is the responsibility of a mischievous and unpredictable beer-drinking dog called Lacey.
But when Harry’s canine crewmate discovers he’s only ever been with one woman, the fun-loving terrier takes it upon himself to educate Harry in the livelier side of life, leading him from one inappropriate liaison to the next … with disastrous consequences.
Acknowledgements
I owe a big thank you to a few special people who helped make the writing of this book possible:
To my mum and dad, Christine and Norman, for the extra tuition in my early years, and their ongoing support and encouragement.
To my wife Nicky, for enduring two years (and more!) of a rather vacant, preoccupied and hermit-like husband. Thanks also for the treat fund – lifesaver.
To my nan Irene for her bequest which helped enormously with the research trip. To my granddad Cliff for his enthusiasm and financial assistance during the lengthy rewriting process, which kept me in ink cartridges and paper.
To Colin and Lesley Watson, for their help sustaining my writing during the bleak post-Christmas period.
To Jon at JW Electrical Services, for several weeks’ worth of work over the last few years that has quite literally helped to keep my head above water.
To David Wailing at Storywork Editing Services, for his tireless enthusiasm, attention to detail and insightful suggestions to improve the story. Truly awesome!
To the friendly and optimistic people of Cambodia, who Nicky and I met during our travels. Despite everything the recent generation has endured, you amaze and inspire by continuing to smile.
To the anonymous reader previously mentioned in the author’s note, who suggested I write the story of how Madge and Bozzer met – thank you for the idea. I hope this book (and those that follow) satisfies your curiosity!
And finally, to all the fantastic readers over the years who have encouraged me to keep writing by taking the time to post a review, or email me with their invaluable feedback. Please don’t stop getting in touch – good, bad or indifferent, it’s always incredibly helpful to know what you think of my work.
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