Smith

by stewartgiles

  NINE

  ANOTHER PLANET

  Saturday 26 December 1998

  Jason Smith felt like he had been hit in the face with a wave of ice. The doors of the aeroplane had opened and the passengers were fumbling with their belongings. He had changed into warmer clothes in Dubai but he was not prepared for what hit him as the first door opened. He shivered. What have I come to? He thought. He checked his watch: 13.00. He had changed it to British time as soon as the wheels of the plane had left the tarmac of Perth behind. After clearing customs and collecting his baggage, he walked through Arrivals and into another world. The people looked different, they were dressed differently; they were different. He looked around for a pay phone. He found a row of them just in front of the exit doors. He took out the envelope that Lucy McLean had given him. He had opened it already on the plane; as soon as it had taken off in fact. There was a passport size photograph of Lucy which he had put in his wallet next to the one of Laura. There was also a letter. He read it again.

  ‘Jason,

  Sorry this is short but you didn’t exactly give me much warning. After what has happened over the past month or so, I’m surprised you’re not a nervous wreck but you’re not; you’re a strong guy, Jason Smith and I know you’ll do just fine. You will always be very special and I will never forget you.

  My brother is in London, as you know. He is backpacking around Europe but now he has a job in London for a while. He said he would be more than happy to put you up for a few days when you get there. I’ve put his number on the back.

  Take care Jason Smith.

  Your good friend,

  Lucy.’

  Jason rang the number.

  “Matt McLean,” a voice said in a familiar accent.

  “Matt,” Jason said, “my name’s Jason. Jason Smith, I’m a friend of Lucy’s.”

  “Jason. Where are you?”

  “I’ve just landed at Heathrow. Lucy said that maybe I could stay with you for a few days.”

  “Course you can mate. You’re lucky; I’m off today and tomorrow. I stay in Earls Court. Get on the Underground there at the airport. It’s about half an hour on the Piccadilly line. I’ll wait for you at the station. I’m just down the road.”

  He hung up.

  Jason took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and rang the number on it.

  “Hello,” an old lady answered.

  “Gran,” Jason said, “I’ve landed in London.”

  “My dear,” she said, “its going to be so nice to see you again. Is everything alright?”

  “Apart from the freezing cold you mean? Everything’s fine. I’m only going to come to you on Monday though; some friends have offered to show me around London for the weekend.”

  “What friends? You didn’t meet any strange people on the plane did you?”

  Jason laughed.

  “No Gran,” he said, “it’s the brother of a friend of mine back in Fremantle. I’ll be quite safe. I’ll be in York around lunchtime on Monday.”

  “Ok dear, you take care now.”

  This isn’t too bad, Jason thought as he put down the phone. He found the tube station, bought a ticket and waited for the train. Thirty minutes later he was in Earls Court.

  “Welcome to sunny London,” a voice called out from behind him.

  He looked around.

  “Matt?” he said.

  He had never met Lucy’s brother.

  “That’s me,” Matt said, “You must be Jason.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Look at you. You’ve still got that Fremantle look; the surfer’s hair and the tan. Unmistakable. It’ll be gone after a few months here though.”

  They shook hands.

  “Give me one of those bags,” Matt said, “it’s only a short walk from here.”

  As they walked, Jason was in awe. He felt like he was on another planet. London was not quite what he had expected. He felt like he was walking through a movie set.

  “This is my place here,” Matt said, “we’re lucky; two of the guys I live with are in Austria getting ready for the skiing season so there’s a couple of spare rooms.”

  He opened the door and went inside. The house was smaller than Jason was used to. In the living room there seemed to be some kind of war going on between the antipodeans. Various Australian and New Zealand souvenirs adorned the walls.

  “Cool place,” Jason said, “how many people live here?”

  “Right now it’s just me and Dylan; he’s from Sydney but he’s alright for an east coaster.”

  A man walked through from the kitchen. “Dylan,” Matt said, “meet Jason. His folks have sent him to the UK for a while.”

  “Pleased to meet you mate.” Dylan shook Jason’s hand. “Are you also from the West?”

  “Fremantle,” Jason replied, “best place on earth.”

  Dylan laughed.

  “If you say so,” he said.

  “How’s the fundraising going Dylan,” Matt asked, “Dylan’s trying to save up for New Year in Brazil.”

  “Not good,” Dylan replied, “I’m about three hundred short and time’s running out. I think I’m going to have to sell the Strat; I need to go to Brazil.”

  “You’ve got a Strat?” Jason said.

  He was very keen on guitars.

  “I’ll show you,” Matt said, “it’s in my room.” He left and returned with the guitar.

  “Wow,” Jason said, “can I have a go?”

  “You can have it if you’ve got three hundred quid,” Matt said.

  Jason had the four hundred pounds from his parents. He needed money for the train ticket to York but that was all.

  “Deal,” he said, “it’s a genuine American one I see.”

  He took the money out of his wallet and gave it to Dylan.

  “Enjoy Brazil,” he said.