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by S. J. Morgan

  And he gave me that look over his reading glasses that said: ‘Son, this time I mean business.’

  Chapter 40

  Organising a last-minute dash to the southern hemisphere seemed like an easy task compared to the one I was faced with next.

  Daniella was finally back for a weekend and I was meeting her at her favourite Chinese restaurant near the rugby ground. I figured she could at least enjoy the food, even if the conversation wasn’t going to be to her liking. We hadn’t seen much of each other the past few weeks, partly because of all that had been going on with Sindy but mainly because it was term time: Daniella had assignments to do and lab work, even on weekends. Plus, she was the naturally studious sort: exams weren’t till after Christmas, but I knew, even now with weeks to go, she’d be squirrelling away facts and figures, storing them up for when she’d need them to get her suite of A-grades.

  Between Sindy’s phone calls and mine, though, she’d been kept informed of the dramas at home. But not this latest development; this one was still fresh and ready to be put in front of her. And I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be to her taste.

  Daniella looked particularly lovely, all wrapped up in her winter-wondergarb. A lipstick-red coat, tight black jeans and red beret: the whole outfit matching perfectly with the rosiness of her cheeks. I stood up and gave her a hug as she came to the table. Her cheek was every bit as icy as the outfit suggested.

  ‘God, it seems ages since we saw each other,’ she said, slipping off her gloves and sliding into the seat opposite me. ‘I’ll be so glad when it’s the holidays and I can forget about pathogens, toxins and cell structures.’

  I fiddled with the pepper pot on the table. ‘Mm.’

  ‘Still, only a few more weeks of it,’ she said. ‘And there’s lots going on at the end of term. You should come and stay. China Crisis are playing. Fancy seeing them?’

  I shifted in my seat, my mental calendar floating past with its days filled up.

  ‘Not sure China Crisis can compete with my own Welsh crisis,’ I said.

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. I could tell she wasn’t really listening. ‘There’s a trip to London in a couple of weeks too. We could nab some seats, maybe go to Oxford Street and do some Christmas shopping.’ She smiled at me hopefully, that cute dimple of hers putting in a welcome appearance. ‘Shall I put our names down?’

  I hadn’t expected to have to bring up the subject so soon, but I was backed into a corner by her enthusiastic plans. ‘I dunno, Daniella. There’s a lot going on right now.’

  She pouted. ‘Sindy will be okay with your mum and dad. She’s not your responsibility.’

  ‘Or theirs,’ I pointed out.

  The waitress arrived, handed us menus and poured us both some water.

  ‘God, it’s so nice doing this,’ Daniella said, looking up from the menu. ‘I feel like I’ve been trapped in my room the last few weeks – I’ve had so many prac reports to do, it’s crazy. I haven’t been able to go to any parties or gigs. The bonfire night barbecue was my only night out.’ She reached across for my hand. ‘And even that wasn’t much fun without you.’

  I stroked her fingers. ‘I know. It’s been tough without you too.’

  She looked down. ‘So how is it, at home with Sindy and your folks?’

  I groaned. ‘I’ve been going stir crazy too, to be honest.’

  ‘At least it’s temporary. When you will you go back to Swansea?’

  We paused to order our food then handed back the menus.

  It let me off the hook for a bit and we chatted more about Bristol and what had been going on with her. But soon enough, she asked again when I’d be going back to Swansea.

  ‘Well, it seems I’ve been evicted from my new place,’ I said, unfolding the announcement as carefully as I could. ‘Dad and I went to collect some things and I found all my stuff in the hall with the locks changed.’

  ‘No! Oh, shit! Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I assumed Sindy would’ve actually.’

  ‘Nope. So, what happens now?’

  ‘Well, I guess it makes me, officially, no longer a resident of Swansea, doesn’t it?’ I sat back and clasped my hands behind my head.

  ‘Right!’ she said, beaming at me. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Yep, the world is my lobster.’

  The discussion wasn’t calculated as such, but I knew where I was directing it: tossing out little snippets here and there that would, at some point, all be gathered together and presented to her in a palatable package.

  ‘It was so depressing having to sign on in my old benefit office,’ I told her. ‘It was like I’d stepped into a big cowpat of my former life.’

  That gave her a titter. ‘You’ll cope,’ she said. ‘It’ll be easier to find work here. And then you can get back on your feet again, get your own place.’

  ‘Mm.’

  We put the conversation on hold as our food arrived; the sweet and sour providing just enough time for me to line up the rest of my news.

  ‘Well, actually, Mum and Dad have come up with an alternative plan,’ I began. I spooned rice onto my plate, careful to concentrate on the food rather than on Daniella. ‘It’ll get me out of that rut you always say I’m in.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘They’re sending me to Australia. I’ll be shipped off like a convict.’

  She stopped chewing and looked at me. ‘Australia?’

  More rice. More sauce. I still didn’t look up from the dishes.

  ‘Sindy has relatives there, remember? Mum and Dad want me to help her find them.’

  I risked a glance. She was prodding the meal with her fork like she was searching amongst the rice for a sliver of hope.

  ‘They realise she’s not safe, even with them,’ I told her. ‘And really, the only way she’ll ever get a go at a normal life is by getting away. A long way away.’

  Daniella still said nothing.

  ‘I don’t suppose I’ll have to be out there for long,’ I said. ‘Go with her on the plane, get her sorted. Then home.’

  ‘I see.’

  Her tone had turned as wintery as her outfit.

  ‘She can hardly go on her own, can she?’ I said. ‘So, the folks have offered to pay for us both, so I can kind of...deliver her.’

  Daniella met my eyes at last. ‘What, in the Biblical sense?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Deliver her. From evi…oh, never mind. When’s all this happening then?’

  ‘Soon. Really soon,’ I said, pouring us both some more water. I managed to spill it and made myself busy mopping it up with my napkin. ‘I guess Minto’s put us on borrowed time. We can’t risk still being there when he shows up to take her back to –’

  Daniella’s fork clattered into her bowl. ‘And exactly how long have you known about all this, Alec?’

  I stopped dabbing. ‘Not long.’

  She started doing all that things she does whenever she’s wound up: chewing her cheek, sighing, looking away, blinking a lot.

  ‘It’s not definite,’ I said.

  She gave me her ‘yeah, right,’ look.

  ‘It’s not!’

  ‘Just be honest, Alec.’ She sighed and pushed her food away. ‘Be upfront for once in your life!’

  ‘Okay. It’s almost definite.’

  She nodded and stood up. Her rosy glow had been whipped away and replaced with a less attractive blotchiness. She rushed off in the direction of the restrooms.

  The food was well and truly cold by the time she came back. She sat in her seat, not eating, her head bent.

  ‘You kept saying I should do something,’ I said, leaning across to her. I put my hand on hers. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  Her eyelashes were moist and dark. ‘You really thought I’d be glad for you to disappear to the other side of the world?’

  ‘C’mon,’ I said, squeezing her fingers. ‘It won’t be forever.’

  She looked around the room, her chin wobbling.
<
br />   My cheery announcement felt wildly misplaced. I’d known she wouldn’t like it: I could’ve guessed she’d be upset. Why hadn’t I been a bit more sensitive?

  ‘It seems...the only way out,’ I said to her. ‘Make sure Sindy’s okay and then...well, then I can come back, can’t I?’

  A tear dripped into Daniella’s lap. She didn’t wipe it away and it took a few seconds before she could respond. ‘You won’t come straight back though. You’ll find work, travel, meet people.’ She kept a tight hold on her expression. ‘Just as I should want you to.’

  I got as close to her as I could across the table. ‘Hey, this is still me,’ I said. ‘I’ll be just as much of a slacker over there as I am here, so I doubt I’ll do any of those things.’

  She managed a laugh, but her features were still in danger of collapse.

  ‘We will see each other some more before you head off, won’t we?’ she said, carefully wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘I’ve missed you and now you’re...’

  ‘Yeah, course. I’ll make sure of it.’

  ‘And if you need any help,’ she added, that good girl courtesy of hers coming out of the woodwork, ‘just let me know.’

  I leaned forward and touched her cheek. ‘D’you know,’ I said with a smile, ‘I was really hoping you’d say that.’

  ‘We have to go up to London,’ I told Mum.

  ‘London? What for?’

  ‘If you’re serious about this, we’ll need documentation. Have you thought how we’re going to manage that with Sindy?’

  Mum looked horrified that her easy fix was already imploding. Her hand flew up to her throat. ‘She’ll have no passport.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And presumably she won’t know where her birth certificate is.’

  It was fascinating watching Mum go through exactly the same flowchart of worry that I’d been through the previous night. However, it was at this point, that I’d paused in my thinking.

  ‘I don’t reckon she has one,’ I said.

  ‘No birth certificate? What d’you mean? Of course she does! Everyone does.’

  I perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘I don’t think she’s registered anywhere, for anything. She said she never went to school, has never seen a doctor, a dentist.’

  Mum’s brow knotted into a deep furrow. ‘But, how…’

  ‘I think they’ve made sure she doesn’t exist,’ I said. ‘The Apaches, I mean. She wasn’t born in a hospital, no one knew she’d arrived. And after that…’ I shrugged, leaving Mum to figure the rest.

  I could see her processing the information, just like I had. Her heart telling her it couldn’t be true and logic telling her it most definitely was.

  ‘That’s awful,’ she said, quietly. ‘She’s like a…non-person.’

  ‘That’s right. If she doesn’t exist, there’s no one who can protect her. She’s completely at their mercy.’

  Mum’s knees seemed to buckle, and she sort of collapsed onto the chair she’d been resting against.

  She shook her head. ‘That’s criminal,’ she said. I knew she wasn’t talking about the law; she was just talking right and wrong.

  ‘As far as they’re concerned, it’s the perfect solution,’ I said, and now I was thinking aloud, my gaze fixed on the carpet. ‘She’s reliant on them for everything. For always. How can she ever get a job if she doesn’t exist? A benefit? How could she ever go to college? How could she get married? She can never have a life!’

  It was only when I snapped my gaze back to Mum that I realised her eyes had welled up. Her face was pale, her expression horrified. And it made me think about Gina again, and how Mum had been trying so desperately to make her exist again, even though she was gone. And yet, here was Sindy, flesh and blood and full of life; but someone whose existence we could never prove.

  It was quite a moment for Dad to walk in. He only popped in to get the TV guide and he suddenly found himself with Mum clinging to him, sniffing and blubbering into his neck.

  ‘We need to get Sindy away more than ever,’ she explained, her words muffled against Dad. ‘But now we can’t because there’s no birth certificate so no passport and no way out of this…situation.’ Tears took over again, and as the words filtered through to Dad, he put a hand gently on the back of Mum’s hair as she cried.

  I felt bad it had got to this pitch, but I’d had no idea Mum would have found my discovery so upsetting.

  I went over to her, stood behind her and put a hand on her back.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I said, gently. ‘I might’ve found a way.’

  She half-turned to me, and I spotted the surge of hope in Dad’s eyes too. ‘It can still be done?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘but there is a slight problem with the plan.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said, taking a shaky breath. ‘If it’s possible, we should give it a go. What’s the problem with it, love?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, looking between her and Dad. ‘I think it’s a good plan, but it’s just not legal.’

  The fact they hadn’t instantly dismissed it gave me hope.

  Sindy was upstairs reading her magazines, but I knew she never spent long on her own, so I had to be quick and economical with explaining my idea.

  ‘It’s just bureaucracy,’ I said. ‘Sindy hasn’t got a birth certificate, but perhaps she wouldn’t need that...if she had an expired passport. Say, from someone who’d now be Sindy’s sort of age.’

  ‘I see.’ Mum’s furrowed brow indicated that she didn’t.

  I waited, then looked at her sidelong. ‘Like Gina, for instance.’

  ‘Gina?’

  ‘We went to Spain when we were little, didn’t we?’

  ‘But...we can’t use hers,’ Mum said. ‘There’ll be a record of her... they’ll know that she can’t get another one.’

  ‘Only if the two departments match the records,’ I said. ‘Usually, they don’t. Remember how we got that letter telling us Gramps was due for a new pension card? He’d been dead for three years.’

  ‘But – what if they found out? If they did have a record of Gina – we’d be guilty of fraud, wouldn’t we?’

  I took a breath: I already knew the next bit was likely to be the trickiest. ‘Mum, you know you had all that stuff in the spare room...all that information about childhood illnesses?’

  She glanced at Dad. ‘So? What about it?’

  ‘I think you should see a doctor. Tell them you’re still doing it.’

  ‘Eh? Why would I do that?’

  ‘It would give you a defence if it all went wrong,’ I said. ‘The doctor would have it on record.’

  ‘Have what on record?’ Dad said, looking as confused as Mum. ‘I don’t see what you’re getting at.’

  ‘Well…it’s a kind of medical issue. And if you sent for a new passport for Gina and got found out, it would just be put down to another example of your…medical problem. A ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.’

  I smiled, like it was no big deal.

  Mum pursed her lips and traced a pattern on the carpet with her foot. Dad, thankfully, kept his mouth shut. The silence stretched.

  ‘You want them to mark me down as doolally,’ she said, looking at me finally.

  I shrugged. ‘Safer that than being marked down as a criminal.’

  She looked down again and I could see her slowly start to nod as the idea took hold. ‘I suppose...if you think it would help then yes. I’ll make an appointment.’

  Once I had the nod, I felt myself go into overdrive, like the idea had stayed coiled inside me too long. Now it was out, free and I wanted to speed it into action. ‘We need to get through this fast,’ I said. ‘No delays. Me and Sindy will need to go to London to get same-day passports.’

  ‘Can you do that? And…have you even told Sindy your idea?’ Mum said. ‘Are we sure she’ll do this? Will she even agree to go to Australia?’

  ‘‘Course she will,’ Dad said. ‘How many times has she said she’d love to save up
and go?’

  ‘We’d better make sure. You know how she can be: she changes her mind from one minute to the next. Oh, and we’ll take Gina’s birth certificate to London, just in case,’ I told Mum. ‘You know where it is?’

  Stupid question: Mum was already on her feet.

  She opened the door but stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh! Sindy!’ she said. ‘What are you up to there?’

  We all heard the click of the phone’s handset being placed on the cradle. ‘Just checking the time.’

  Mum rolled her eyes and gave a good-natured tut. ‘Why don’t you come in here for a minute, love?’ she said. ‘Jim and Alexander need to talk to you. And it’s about something a lot more exciting than the Speaking Clock!’

  Chapter 41

  Puzzle pieces fell into place far more smoothly than they had any business doing. Mum had armed herself with a diagnosis of anxiety and depression; I’d got the passport forms from the post office and both Sindy and I had the pre-requisite set of hideous photos courtesy of Cardiff bus station’s photo booth. Passports and tickets were all that were left on the shopping list.

  ‘Is this going to be a problem?’ Mum said, waving something under my nose as she came into my room. ‘Gina was named on my passport – she didn’t have her own. Neither of you did.’

  ‘No, that’s okay,’ I said. ‘We just have to show that the new photos have been certified as Gina.’

  Mum blinked back at me. ‘But…we can’t ask anyone we know to say it’s Gina.’

  ‘Ah, but I can,’ I told her. ‘Daniella said she’s happy to do it.’

  ‘Oh! Well, that’s good then.’

  While I sifted through the forms, I realised Mum was watching me.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘You’ve got it all moving so quickly.’

  ‘Yeah, well Minto’s quite the motivator. I’ve still got to buy plane tickets, though,’ I said. ‘We’re going nowhere otherwise.’

  ‘Ah, that’s the easy part,’ Mum said, heading for the door. ‘Don’t worry about that.’