Paradise Found

by David Horne

  The train slowed down. The brakes hissed. Simon stood up and pushed his way through the wall of musky coffee and tangy perfume, holding his breath to avoid the impact of the powerful scents. Later on, during the return journey, the perfume would be replaced with the bitter, heavy smell of body odor. Sometimes it just wasn't worth looking forward to the future.

  Exchanging one crowd for another, Simon joined the string of people making their way through the city. Like herds of sheep, they shuffled along. Occasionally, a few people broke away from the mass to go their separate ways, but more joined. Simon could imagine the herd walking endlessly around the city, with people joining and leaving, but ultimately having nowhere to go.

  Towering skyscrapers loomed over him. They cast long shadows, and blocked out the sun. Simon waited for the right moment, then he too left the herd, watching it rumble on around a corner, as though it had a life of its own.

  Simon rode up the elevator to the sixteenth floor. This skyscraper used to be home to a single company, but in the economic crisis it had gone bust. Now, it was home to a variety of businesses, some of which took up more than one floor. The company Simon worked for, a local magazine, only took up one floor. It was a humble publication, but it had a core of dedicated followers who kept the company afloat. They had recently finally accepted that they had to move forward in the world and set up a website, which is where Simon came in. Mostly his job was to collate articles and post them on the website, and also to generally maintain the content, moderate comments, and find bugs. It wasn't exactly helping fuel his literary ambitions, but he liked to tell himself he was working in the industry. It was just a stepping stone.

  Nodding to the others in the office, he dropped off his bag at his desk and then made his way into the small conference room for the weekly meeting. Tonya O'Hara, the editor, was there, as were the chief writers. Tom Daly, Hanna Simmons, and Billy Thornton held the coveted positions. Unless they moved on, which Simon didn't think they would any time soon, he would eventually have to find another place to work, somewhere he could actually develop his talent.

  The staff was small, which reflected the status of the publication. The Literary Summit had been published for almost seventy-five years. It had begun as a passion project by a wealthy book enthusiast who wanted to share his thoughts with those around him. Writing essays and articles about books he read, August O'Hara published the magazine at his own expense, which he could afford thanks to his immense wealth. The magazine was a source of personal pride to the family, and although it had changed philosophy over the years—no longer did it only focus on books, but of life in general in the local area—it had always had its niche. In this time of globalization, there was something to be said for a magazine that liked to keep things local. It was a reminder of how things used to be.

  As soon as Simon entered they all took their seats and the meeting began. Tonya leaned forward and clasped her hands.

  “This is a very exciting time for us. The seventy-fifth anniversary of this magazine is coming up and I would like us to celebrate in style. I thought we could publish old articles that August wrote to show where we began, and how far we've come. Simon, I'm going to need you to go through the archives and find suitable articles. Try and avoid any that have less-than pleasant language. Some things August wrote were barely acceptable seventy-five years ago, let alone today,” Tonya said. Simon nodded, although he didn't like being treated as basically an errand boy.

  “I think that's a fine idea Tonya. I was thinking that I could perhaps write a little biography of August to celebrate his achievements, to show why he began The Literary Summit in the first place and how it has shaped the way we live,” Billy said.

  “Wonderful, wonderful!” Tonya clasped her hands together. All the people in the room were at least twenty years older than Simon. Tonya had curly white hair and looked like a storybook grandmother, although Simon had witnessed her temper, which wasn't storybook at all. Tom wore tweed jackets and liked to write in an esoteric manner. He always spoke of a novel he wrote when he was younger, but there was no evidence of it. Hanna smoked like it was still 1940. Thin like Cruella Deville, she looked down her nose at almost everything, and despite her smoking habit always tried to be healthy, shifting from one fad diet to the next. Billy was the most genuine one out of all of them. He wore a beret to hide his thinning hair, but approached everything with good humor, and had taken Simon under his wing.

  Simon had a few ideas of his own, but knew from past experience that he would only be told “one day.” Somehow they expected him to wait at least a decade for an opportunity, not realizing that the world had changed. There was a sense of immediacy to everything, and nobody had any time to wait. If you didn't accomplish anything by the age of thirty then you were a failure. Simon was running out of time.

  The others talked a little more about the plans for the seventy-fifth celebration. Simon's mind wandered. He often hated these meetings as it seemed they were only an opportunity for the others to pat themselves on the back. In the wider world The Literary Summit had no impact whatsoever. Its longevity was the only reason why it was still in print, and Simon wished they would listen to his ideas. He wanted the magazine to grow, to reach new audiences, but the others seemed to be happy with their place in the world.

  There were a few times when Simon had expressed these concerns with Billy. The gregarious writer had chuckled to himself and stroked his thick beard.

  “I remember when I had your energy,” he said. “Why is it the young always want to change the world? I understand the way you think Simon, and maybe it is what the magazine needs, but the fact is you're not going to be able to change their minds. We're all old and we're settled in our niches. We could push ourselves, yes, but we don't have the energy for that.”

  “Isn't that what writers are supposed to do though, push themselves toward new ground?” Simon had asked.

  “Yes, probably, but there are a hundred different ways to be a writer. Take me for example, I wanted to write the next great sci-fi novel, but instead I'm writing about the most mundane things imaginable, but am I unhappy? I get to write for a living. I get to put my words to the paper, and people actually read them. Life doesn't always give you what you want in the way you expect it, but there's always a way to get something similar. There's nothing wrong with settling. This magazine is too old to change, and you'll save yourself a lot of aggravation if you accept that.”

  So Simon had accepted it. Every day he came in and did the best job he could, hoping that one day his talent would be recognized. It never was. Barely any of them paid any attention to the website as it was, so they only gave his stories a cursory glance. They all looked down on them as well, as though they lacked merit because they were typed on a website rather than published on paper. For people who considered themselves so enlightened, Simon often thought them entirely close-minded. So he usually held his tongue, but on this occasion there was a topic that piqued his interest.

  It was Hannah who first mentioned it. “I have quite the scoop I think could be good for the magazine, and something that is probably going to be in the papers sooner rather than later. Do any of you remember the story of Logan Thomas?” she asked. The others searched their memory.

  “Wasn't that the kid that went missing all those years ago?” Tom said. Simon's ears pricked up.

  “That kid isn't missing any longer. He turned up at his brother's wedding yesterday. Strode in right out of the blue.”

  “And how do you know about this?” Tonya asked.

  “I have my sources,” Hannah replied mysteriously. “Either way, it could be a real scoop.”

  Tonya snorted. “It's not the first time I've heard of something like this. I bet it's an impostor.”

  “It doesn't matter who it is, what matters is there's a story there. I think we should investigate and see this man for ourselves. It could be a story of national interest, so it should be written by someone who is used to having her words rea
d by an entire country,” Hannah said, obviously implying that she should be the one to write the story, flaunting her past as a reporter with the London Times.

  Before he knew it, Simon had got the attention of everyone in the room.

  “I know him,” Simon said. All eyes turned to him.

  “What do you mean you know him?” Tonya asked.

  “As if you could know anybody,” Hanna scoffed.

  “I was there, at the wedding. I'm...friends with Bob too. I could, well, if you wanted someone to write an article I think Logan would be more willing to talk with someone whose on friendly terms with the family. I imagine it must be quite daunting to return home and have to answer so many questions. A friendly face from a local magazine might be better suited to get to the truth of the matter.”

  Simon didn't know what he was doing. His heart beat frantically in his chest and he tried not to look at the others. Billy looked at him with admiration and pride. Hannah shot daggers with her eyes. He couldn't make out Tonya's inscrutable gaze. She tapped her fingers against her lips and murmured to herself.

  “Intriguing,” she whispered.

  “You can't be seriously considering this!” Hannah exclaimed. “He's not a writer.”

  “There was a time when none of us were writers. Perhaps it's time for the duckling to take to the water,” she said, smiling at Simon. “Do you guarantee that you can get this interview?”

  This was Simon's chance, and he knew that if he didn't take it he wouldn't get another one for years. “I can. I know them well. I'll get the full story,” he said, hoping that he wasn't promising something he couldn't deliver.

  “Then it's settled. Congratulations Simon, you officially have you first investigative assignment for The Literary Summit. With that, I think I can say meeting adjourned.”

  Tonya rose, as did the others. Simon waited for a little while, letting the reality sink in. He had done it. He'd finally fashioned an opportunity for himself. Now all he had to do was somehow convince Logan to tell Simon his story.

  Simon stepped out of the meeting room and Hannah was waiting for him.

  “Listen to me, you whelp. If you think for one minute this is going to be your chance, you're mistaken. You know nothing about reporting. You make one mistake and I'll be there, ready to clean up whatever mess you leave behind. You should stay where you belong, because the air gets thin up here and it would be a shame if you forget how to breathe.”

  With that, she walked away. Simon returned to his desk and breathed deeply, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “I wouldn't worry about her. She doesn't like being shown up,” Billy said with a smile. “So, you've discovered the secret of being a good reporter, being in the right place at the right time.”

  “I never knew it was something as simple as all that,” Simon replied.

  “It's a trade secret. If you need any help let me know, but I think you've got this. You've wanted this for a long time.”

  “Yes...yes I have. But Billy, what if Logan doesn't want to tell his story?”

  “Well, that's part of what being a reporter is all about. Everyone has secrets; it's just a matter of prying them loose. If this is what you're meant to be doing, then you'll find a way. All reporters do.”

  Simon sank back in his chair and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. He'd promised Tonya the world, and now he had to find a way to deliver it.

  Chapter Five

  “I got a real assignment today,” Simon announced as he returned to the apartment. Amy was there, lying on the couch, watching a movie.

  “That's awesome! What was it?”

  “I'll tell you later. Did you go in to work today?”

  “I did. Biggest waste of time. It was so slow Mac told me I could go home early. Sometimes I think I'm psychic. I had such a feeling that it wasn't worth me going into work today, and as it turned out I didn't need to!”

  Amy had a feeling like that every day, but Simon wasn't going to point that out to her at that moment. He excused himself and went to his room to do some further research on his laptop. He'd spent the rest of the day looking into Logan's disappearance, as well as performing his usual duties on the website. It looked as though he was going to have to pull double duty for a while as none of the other writers wanted to demean themselves by working on the website.

  So far, all he'd been able to uncover was that Logan, older brother to Bob, had been lost as a child. The story went that Logan and his father had gone on a fishing trip and his father had returned alone. Logan had apparently fallen off the boat when his father hadn't been looking, and despite the man searching desperately for his son, nothing turned up. The whole county was involved in the search. Scuba divers trawled under the surface of the sea, but nothing was ever found. Many people wondered why Hank Thomas had taken his son to the open sea to fish rather than one of the plentiful lakes. Hank had only ever said that he wanted to make it a bit different, that he thought he had a better chance of making a good catch.

  There were photographs taken at the time. In them, Simon could see how haunted the man was. His sunken eyes were tired, and Simon wondered how many nights the man had been unable to sleep because of visions of his dead son. Hank hadn't lived much longer, dying naturally in his sleep a few years later. His accounts of the day had always been hazy. Some people suggested there was something more, that his guilty conscience wasn't just borne from being a negligent parent, but that he had actually murdered Logan. The thought filled Simon with revulsion. It was completely unpalatable.

  The scuba divers didn't find anything, and most people assumed that the little boy had been washed away to sea. This wasn't enough for some people. Others thought he had been swept back to land and kidnapped. Some thought that it wasn't an accident at all, and that Logan had purposefully left the boat. There was always some doubt around Hank, a doubt that hung over the household like a shadow. Thinking about it, Simon had never known what happened between Bob's parents. He assumed they just got divorced because it was one of those things that people did. Now there seemed to be a deeper reason.

  Simon tried to put himself into the shoes of Hank Thomas. How could that man have gone on knowing that he was responsible, although indirectly, for his son's disappearance. And then, to not be able to find any trace of Logan, as though the boy had disappeared into thin air. How could a marriage survive that strain? How could a man survive?

  Researching this only depressed him, even if the story had a happy ending. Logan had returned home. But Hank would never know that. The tortured man went to the grave thinking that his son was dead.

  What had happened to him?

  His stomach growled so he left his laptop and went to grab something from the fridge.

  “So what's this assignment?” Amy asked. She hadn't moved from the couch. Simon rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some meat and lettuce, making himself a sandwich.

  “Well, it's the seventy-fifth anniversary of the magazine so they want to do a lot of special things. I just piped up in the meeting offering a suggestion and they went for it,” he said, knowing that Amy was not going to be happy with what he promised them.

  “Yeah, so what are you writing about?”

  “Oh, just a story of local interest.”

  “Simon. Why are you being so coy about it?”

  “I'm not being coy about it really. It's just an interview. I'm doing some research for it at the moment.”

  “An interview with whom?”

  “Oh, just Logan,” he mumbled, hoping that she didn't hear.

  “Logan? You mean Bob's Logan?”

  “Yeah. You know. They heard about it and I might have mentioned that I had a bit of a connection.”

  “Oh my God, Simon, what have you done?!”

  “What?”

  “What makes you think Logan is going to talk to you?”

  “Well, he probably wants to tell his story to somebody, and who better than someone who was at his brother's wedding?”

&
nbsp; “You've really shot yourself in the foot here.”

  “What happened to thinking positive? I did what you said. I took a chance, and it paid off. This could be the beginning of a whole new stage in my career. It's finally happening. I can finally call myself a writer for real.”

  “You just have to get a story from Logan. And you've promised them this.”

  “I had to Amy. They wouldn't have given it to me otherwise. I know it's a risk, but I had to take it.”

  “Simon, I know them. They're not going to want to put their story in some magazine.”

  “It's going to come out sooner or later. The newspapers are going to be sniffing around as well. At least this way they can tell it to someone who knows them.”

  “You sound like you're trying to justify something you know is wrong.”

  “What I know is that I have an opportunity to advance my career and I thought my best friend would support me.”

  “Not when it comes to invading the privacy of someone. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if people looked into your life.”

  “He's been missing for twenty years Amy. Of course people are going to be interested. Have you even looked into the story? I've been doing research about it and I’ve gotta say I'm surprised that we've never heard anything about it.”

  “Maybe because it's one of the things that people don't need to know about. Maybe some secrets are better off being left alone.”

  “If I'm going to be a reporter then I'm going to need to uncover secrets. It's my job. Look, I'd really like your help. You know Bob and Jackie better than I do. Besides, wouldn't you rather have me writing this story rather than someone who only wants the prestige of writing it? You know that I won't print anything that's too sensitive,” he said, although he was looking at Amy with concern, wondering why she had such a vested interest in the secrecy of this story.

  “Of course I'll help you Simon,” she sighed, “but I hope you know what you're getting into. Don't be annoyed if things aren't as easy as you think they're going to be. If I were Logan I wouldn't want to be interviewed at all. I'd just want the freedom to be able to get on with my life.”