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by S. J. Morgan

  ‘Mum?’

  She came back in and looked at me.

  ‘You sure you can afford this? I feel…this is your retirement fund.’

  Mum folded her arms and her features softened. ‘Seeing Sindy sorted out would be the best retirement gift we could give ourselves. Dad says the same.’

  ‘Even so, you two have been saving all this time and then…bang, it’ll be all gone.’

  ‘Not all of it,’ Mum said, lowering her voice. ‘When we went through the accounts, it made me realise how much we actually have. I don’t know why your father has been complaining so much. There’ll be more than enough left for us to enjoy.’

  ‘You realise we have to leave soon, don’t you?’ I said. ‘Me and Sindy. If we’re going to do this, we have to go as soon as we can to get the paperwork sorted. We can’t risk Minto turning up.’

  I watched Mum internally brace herself. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘We’ll be more than ready.’

  The more we got done, the more impatient I was to leave. It was like revving the engine and waiting for that flag to fall. It set my nerves on edge and I sensed I was difficult to be with. The others had to creep around me; fearful of a mistimed comment or an ill-considered look.

  I figured we could leave the next day to get the passports. Mum had gone to the bank to transfer savings into their current account; Dad had filled the car with petrol and Sindy had spread all she owned into that one huge suitcase.

  I was zipping up the front section of my bag – the bit with the forms and Home Office leaflets – when I found an old photo Mum had put in of Gina, as if to prove to the good folk in immigration the same girl was asking for her own passport.

  It was a black and white picture, taken in the garden before we built the conservatory. Gina was peering to the side, worried look on her face. She was holding her white stuffed unicorn – the one she nuzzled each night that always smelled of dribble.

  ‘It’s quite a clear picture of her face,’ Mum said, giving me a start. She came further into the room, a pile of clean laundry in her arms. ‘That’s why I thought it’d be a good one to show the passport office.’

  ‘They’re not interested what she looked like fifteen years ago, Mum.’

  ‘These are the ones Sindy had done, are they?’ she said, putting down the clothes and reaching across for the photo strip. She held Gina’s picture and Sindy’s at arm’s length, side by side. ‘She could be the same person, you know. They’re not dissimilar, are they? The shape of the eyes, the colouring.’

  ‘Immigration are barely going to look. They just want the signatures, not a trip down memory lane.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Mum said. She put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I just thought –’

  Our eyes met as the quiet of the room was upturned by the deep, resonant roar of an engine. I shot to my feet and kicked the bag under the bed. ‘Get Sindy,’ I told Mum. ‘Make sure she doesn’t go to the door. Hurry up. And warn Dad.’

  Mum scuttled away.

  I heard the creak of the gate outside and my stomach went into lockdown.

  A loud rap at the front door.

  I stayed where I was, listening to the silence in the house. Another knock, barely ten seconds after the first, had me easing the curtains apart, careful to keep myself out of view. A black motorbike stood like a beefy minder against the kerb.

  Downstairs, I heard movement in the kitchen, and I realised Dad must have come in from the garden. I tore down the stairs in time to see him at the kitchen door. ‘Go back,’ I mouthed, gesturing him away. ‘Back!’

  The letterbox opened and the next knock was even louder. ‘Alec, open the fucking door, will you? I can see you’re in there, you twat!’

  There was a murmur of voices that warned me Stobes wasn’t alone.

  I opened the door.

  He and Black stood grinning at me, helmets under their arms like they were a pair of astronauts.

  ‘About fucking time,’ Stobes said, stepping inside.

  Black ruffled my hair as he went past. ‘Long time, no see, butty-bach. Missed us?’

  I followed them through the hall where they waited to be shown where to go. I eased past them and opened the kitchen door.

  Dad spun around like a startled ballerina.

  ‘Stobes and Black have stopped by to see me,’ I told him. ‘Don’t mind if we use the kitchen, do you?’

  I could see him filtering my tone for clues.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘I’m just gonna grab a couple of cold ones from the fridge.’

  ‘Right. I’ll leave you to it then,’ he said. And he gave the others a brief nod before he disappeared.

  ‘So, what brings you two all this way?’ I said, passing them each a lager.

  ‘There’s a club-meet down this way,’ Black said. ‘Thought I’d bring Stobes here for an outing.’

  I looked between them. ‘A club-meet?’

  ‘Apaches,’ Black said, and he turned to show me the patch on the back of his jacket. ‘I’m in.’

  ‘I’m just a hangaround: there for the weed and the women,’ Stobes said, helping himself to a chair. ‘So, Mr Johnston, how’ve things been?’

  ‘Fine. Busy, you know.’

  Black ran a leather wrapped finger along the gas hob then wandered over to the window, looking out into the garden. He was making me uneasy.

  ‘What about you two?’ I said. ‘Everything good at the flat?’

  ‘All quiet on the western front,’ Stobes said. ‘Well, even quieter these days with you gone and our little house-mouse gone AWOL.’

  ‘Sindy’s not there?’ I said.

  Black still had his back to us. ‘Minto’s moved her along, it seems.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  Stobes sat hunched at the table. He glanced over to Black before he replied. ‘Someone else is taking care of her,’ he said. He took a swig from his beer and flicked his bottle top across the table. ‘Surprised you didn’t know. Thought you’d’ve been her first port of call.’

  ‘I haven’t been in Swansea for a while,’ I said. ‘If she’d turned up at my place, she’d have been disappointed.’

  Black moved from the window and perched, a bit too close to me, against the worktop. The silence stretched.

  ‘Is that what you two are doing here?’ I said, finally. ‘Are you looking for Sindy?’

  Black ran a hand through his mop of dark curls. He smiled at Stobes. ‘Looking for her?’ he said. ‘Why? Is she missing? Did you say she was actually missing, Mr Stobes?’

  ‘Nah. I never said she was. I think we said she’d been moved along. Unless you know different, of course.’

  They both looked at me.

  ‘Well, like I said, I haven’t seen her.’

  ‘Aye, aye. Then you’ve got nothing to fret about, have you?’ Black said.

  Stobes drained his beer and stood up. ‘You should come over to the meet with us,’ he said, giving me a slap on the arm. ‘It’s gonna be wild. Last one of the year always is.’ He reached past me and put his empty bottle on the counter. ‘Minto’ll be joining us before he heads off on his business trip. He’d want to see you, I reckon.’ He eyeballed me and it was all I could do to stop myself flinching.

  ‘If you change your mind, we’ll be hanging out at the caravan park in Sully,’ Black said. And he passed me his empty bottle; his gloved hand keeping hold of it a second longer than necessary. ‘You can’t miss us – we’re taking over the whole fucking place.’

  ‘I’ll see. Thanks.’

  Black took his helmet from the table and Stobes handed him the keys. I shuffled down the hall with them and opened the door. ‘Good seeing you, Alec, butty,’ Black said. ‘Cheers for the beer.’

  I nodded.

  Stobes stuck out his hand. ‘Alec,’ he said, by way of a farewell.

  Outside, Black flicked up the bike stand and ground the engine into life. ‘Hey, where’s your lid, man?’ he shouted at Stobes.

  Stobes dashed past me and in
to the kitchen. He came hurrying out with his helmet as I stood, minding the door. He awarded me another whack on the arm as he went past.

  ‘You’ve got one week,’ he said, quietly. ‘Minto’ll get here in one week.’

  And before I’d had time to register the favour, he’d gone.

  Chapter 42

  We’d been sitting in the waiting room for over two hours, clutching our number tag. There’d been a notice on the door, warning of delays. Seemed half the country was after an urgent passport and when I looked outside at the filthy weather, I could understand why. Still, it was hard to imagine sunshine, even on the other side of the world. I wondered if I’d make it back in time for Christmas. It was still a few weeks away, but I knew Daniella was looking to me for some kind of assurance. An assurance that I really couldn’t give her.

  I’d been over everything with Sindy – reminded her to let me do the talking but had gone over the details with her just in case. I’d told Mum it would be fine, easy, but in reality, I was shitting bricks. Sindy was the notorious loose cannon. We’d all offered her private bribes for good behaviour: I was locked into buying her a big box of chocolates if she got her passport and Christ knows what Mum and Dad had got roped into.

  We sat stiff and upright in our chairs. Mum had been Sindy’s personal groom that morning and with the curled hair and the funky get-up, she could definitely have passed for sixteen.

  The passport officer was a jowly middle-aged guy with damp patches under the arms of his shirt. I figured the dampness was a good thing: a man who didn’t respond well to stress would presumably try to avoid it.

  ‘I’ve checked over everything,’ I told him. ‘I think the forms are filled in okay.’

  The guy said nothing but flipped through the sheets, turning them over one by one. He looked at the photos, then at each of us.

  I saw Sindy chew her lip and she was gently rocking her knee from side to side. ‘I had to have loads taken,’ she said. ‘I kept giggling.’

  I shot her a look to shut her up.

  But Passport Man didn’t seem to mind; he might’ve even warmed a little. He turned the photos over and looked back at the applications. ‘And Daniella Hurst has known you for more than two years?’ he said.

  ‘Four,’ I told him, reciting what I knew was on the form.

  He scooped up the forms and wrote something on a slip of paper, signed it and stamped it. ‘These will be checked by our Chief Immigration Officer,’ he said. ‘When are you travelling?’

  I looked at Sindy the same time she looked at me: we hadn’t predicted that question.

  ‘Next week,’ she piped up. ‘We’re going to see my family in Australia. They live in Mount Isiah. I mean Isa. Sorry.’

  The officer looked at me rather than Sindy and I wondered if he was considering why she’d said ‘my family’ rather than ours.

  ‘Collection service is open until four,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to pick up the documents from there once they’ve been approved.’

  By three, the number of people in the passport office had ballooned. It was as if the whole of humanity had been barfed out into that space. Most had brought their extended family, and kids were crawling between chairs, wriggling about on the carpets and making the place look untidy.

  ‘Number eighty-seven.’

  I grabbed Sindy and took her up to the counter with me.

  A reedy looking woman glanced at us briefly. She gestured to us to sit down while she unfolded a wad of typed papers. There were no passports in the pile, that much I could see and if I’d followed my instincts, we’d have hot-footed out of there and never looked back. I took a packet of mints out of my pocket, offered one to Sindy and to the woman, then sat back in my seat as if this whole process was no big deal.

  ‘Alexander Johnston and,’ she looked down at the form then peered at Sindy. ‘Georgina Johnston.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said.

  ‘These are your first adult passports, are they?’

  ‘Yep. We haven’t been overseas for years, so we were on Mum’s before.’

  The woman shuffled through the papers and compared two sheets, looking from one to the other. I watched the top of her head, trying to interpret every movement, every angle. When I swallowed, I was sure it was the loudest fucking gulp in history. I didn’t dare look at Sindy; couldn’t risk a move. I figured there were probably cameras everywhere, studying people’s body language for signs of nervousness, guilt. I swallowed again.

  ‘Do you have the stamped receipt?’ the woman said, resting those eagle eyes on me.

  ‘Yes.’ And I was so keen to get it out of my pocket, I pulled the mints with it and the packet rolled across the floor. If the cameras hadn’t been watching me before, they’d certainly have swivelled my way after that.

  The woman got to her feet and, without offering an explanation, took the papers and receipt away.

  ‘Where’s she gone?’ whispered Sindy.

  I didn’t look at her. ‘Shh.’

  ‘Has she gone to get the police?’ Sindy sounded like she was about to cry.

  ‘Just shut up!’

  I saw Miss Marple returning to us and she wasn’t flanked by police officers. I couldn’t tell a thing from her expression: I guessed these people must have been trained by the Ministry of Blank Looks.

  She sat down and before I could see what she was doing, two blue books appeared in front of us. ‘You’ll need to sign those as soon as possible,’ she said. ‘And I’d advise you to fill out the contact details in case of emergency before you use your passports for travel.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. And I had to swallow the wobble out of my voice. ‘Thanks. So, is that it?’

  ‘All done,’ she said. And we finally got a smile out of her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sindy said, getting up. She stuck out her hand to the woman.

  ‘Not at all,’ the officer said, shaking hands.

  ‘Come on, Gina,’ I said, pulling Sindy by the arm. She was at her most dangerous when she was relieved or excited.

  I had to run down the stairs to keep up with her. In fact, I had to race after her as she sprinted down the street.

  I saw Mum’s face drop as she spotted us hurtling towards her. She said something to Dad and they both peered past us, waiting to see who we were running from.

  No one looked more shocked than Dad when Sindy raced into his arms.

  ‘We did it,’ she told him, pulling him into a bear hug. ‘We did it! So, guess what? You owe me an instant camera.’

  Chapter 43

  None of it felt real until we were at the airport. Then it was all far too real. Given we’d only got our tickets the day before, I’d barely had time to adjust. I don’t think I’d ever really believed we’d get away with it, but there was no sigh of relief; no sinking back into my own smugness. It was simply a drip-feed of dread. I knew that every time we passed a border control, each time we were asked for documentation, I’d expect our number to be up. Every official at the airport injected me with a fresh rush of nausea. In my mind, it wasn’t a case of if we’d be caught; it was simply when. Sindy was travelling on a dead girl’s passport: we couldn’t possibly be allowed to get away with it.

  I’d had the briefest of conversations with Daniella. She knew the whole thing was imminent when she got a call from the passport office, and she’d had no choice but to sit tight till I let her know what was happening. When I did, I told her I didn’t want a farewell.

  I knew it was hard for her to accept but, frankly, I was too stressed, too hollowed-out to deal with anymore. If I didn’t see Daniella, it was easier to hold onto the story in my head: the one where we’d fly to Sydney, onto Mt Isa, find Sindy’s mum and I’d be home in time for Christmas. That was the only newsreel allowed to feature in my mind. It was for just a few weeks, then I’d be back and Sindy, Minto, the flat would all seem like a dream.

  ‘She’s like a bottle of pop, isn’t she?’ Mum said, as soon as Sindy went to the bathroom in the
departure hall.

  ‘I don’t suppose she’s travelled before,’ Dad said.

  ‘She’s so excited,’ Mum continued, looking at me. ‘She’s promised to get a photo of you both every day; then she’s going to post them to us, so we get a sort of running commentary. Isn’t that a lovely idea?’

  I said yes, but I knew Sindy’s enthusiasm for that camera wouldn’t last the week.

  Mum put a hand on my arm. ‘We’ve put money into your account,’ she said. ‘We’ll keep an eye on things: make sure there’s always some in there. Travel will be expensive – the distances are so big. Has Sindy managed to get in touch with any family yet?’

  ‘I told her not to,’ I said. ‘Better we check things out once we’re there.’

  Mum nodded. ‘I hope it’ll be a… nice surprise for her mother. I pray to God she’s different from Sindy’s father.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. I just hope we can find her. Sindy’s got some information but…who really knows till we get there?’

  There was still no sign of her emerging from the bathroom and I could see Mum getting twitchy, turning around every few seconds, searching through the crowds. ‘I should have gone too,’ she muttered.

  ‘There’s plenty of time,’ Dad said. He looked at me. ‘Got your boarding passes safe?’

  ‘Yeah, got everything.’ I patted my pockets. ‘I can’t settle till we’re on our way, though.’

  Mum wasn’t helping my nerves, wringing her hands and craning her neck as she waited.

  ‘Alec, Alec!’ I turned and spotted Sindy waving at me. But now she had company with her.

  I hurried over and when I got there, I practically fell into Daniella’s arms. Until that moment, I hadn’t realised how badly I’d needed to see her, but of course, Daniella always had a better handle on such things than I did.

  Mum, Dad and Sindy went over to the seating area, pretending not to watch us.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alec. Do you mind?’ Daniella said, as she hugged me. ‘It just didn’t feel right. I needed a proper goodbye.’ She stood back and looked at me. ‘I won’t believe you’re gone unless I see it for myself.’