Welcome To Wherever You Are (16 page)

‘They seem sweet, and turn your volume down.’

‘They’ve been here all of two days and they think they’re the dogs’ bollocks.’

‘Aw, are they pushing little Tommy’s nose out of joint?’ Nicole teased.

‘No, I just don’t like their attitude.’

‘Oh, be quiet, granddad. They’re having fun – do you remember how to do that?’ Tommy stared Nicole in the eye and tried to focus on her.

‘Yes, I remember how to have fun, and I remember how to do this as well,’ he began, then closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her. However, Nicole swiftly moved her head and the only thing Tommy’s lips collided with was the wall. From behind the pool table in the corner of the room, Jake winced.

‘I think you’ve had a few too many,’ said Nicole, ‘why don’t you go and have a lie down for a bit?’

A muddled Tommy nodded and shuffled away, red-faced, and couldn’t help but notice Matty and Declan laughing at what they’d just seen.

Savannah focused on her reflection in the bathroom mirror and adjusted her hairpiece so her fringe sat straight.

The figure sitting silently on a stool behind the two-way mirror edged his face towards Savannah’s when she moved closer to apply colour to her lips. Inches apart, he mimicked her movements; blinking when Savannah blinked, pouting when she pouted and ruffling his hair when she ruffled hers. It was only when she threw her handbag over her shoulder and walked towards her bedroom door that he pulled his trousers up.

But as Savannah turned the handle, she felt the locking mechanism snap and watched the knob fall to the floor. She tried to reinsert it but to no avail, and then jabbed her fingers in the hole to see if that might unlock the door.

When that attempt also failed, she felt the adrenaline course through her veins as she dropped to her knees.

SIX AND A HALF MONTHS EARLIER –               MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA

The fortnight Savannah spent locked in her bedroom felt endless.

The only contact she was allowed with another person was when one of the kitchen staff unlocked her door, passed her a food tray with an apologetic glance, and then closed it again. Three times a day this happened, and not a word was spoken by the prisoner or the prison cook. For the first few days, Savannah refused to touch her meals, hoping that by starving herself, her father would be forced to release her. But when each rejected tray made no difference, she succumbed to hunger and hated herself with each mouthful she took.

With no cell phone or Internet to contact the outside world for help, Savannah passed her days flicking through television channels, watching endless
Kardashians
and
Real Housewives
reruns, home renovation shows and music videos.

She’d peer through the locked glass balcony doors and down the half-mile driveway that led to a world away from the one she detested. Her sister Roseanna had tried to visit but was ushered out of the corridor by their father’s staff. Occasionally Savannah spotted her in the garden playing frisbee with the dogs and chasing them through the lawn sprinklers. She’d look up at Savannah with a shared sadness.

Sometimes Savannah glanced into her en-suite bathroom mirror to reassess the swelling and bruising to her face, and at night when she was enveloped in complete silence, she hoped the ringing in her ear from her father’s fist might eventually subside.

The worst aspect of Savannah’s incarceration was the time she’d been given to worry about Michael. She was frightened about what had become of him; the most positive aftermath was that after his attack, he’d been dumped outside his college apartment with a threat to keep quiet about his injuries or face further consequences. Few would believe his version of events over those of a respected television evangelist, and the only witness was locked away in her bedroom like a character from a fairy tale.

She was afraid that her first and only love now hated her for what she’d put him through. The swift and cruel end of their relationship meant hands that were supposed to guide his career and heal the helpless were no longer fit for purpose. And the well she siphoned money from to pay for his tuition had also run dry, leaving him with nothing. She’d ruined his life simply by loving him.

The worst-case scenario for Michael’s fate . . . well, Savannah couldn’t bear to think of that.

By the tenth day of her incarceration, Savannah briefly contemplated suicide as her only means of escape. But the moment she accepted she had nothing to lose by dying, was also the moment she decided she had nothing to lose by doing her damndest to escape.

And by day fifteen, she knew exactly how she was going to do it.

TODAY

‘Pull yourself together girl,’ Savannah said aloud, and replaced her short, shallow gasps with deep, drawn-out breaths. Eventually she got to her feet and made her way to the bathroom to find a nail file she kept in her make-up bag.

Suddenly she heard a click at the door and when she returned to it, it was slightly ajar. She opened it fully, scanned the corridor up and down but it was empty.

DAY FIVE

Four days had passed since Tommy last checked his emails, and again, there was nothing from Sean in his Inbox.

Tommy sat back in his chair with his arms folded, hoping the paracetamol he’d taken earlier would soon rid him of his hangover. He remembered bits and pieces from the night before, in particular, crashing and burning in his second stab at kissing Nicole. And he vowed not to make a fool of himself again with an older woman who obviously didn’t take him seriously.

Suddenly, a small brown paper bag fell from above and onto his lap.

‘That’s just to say thanks for the company the other night; I really appreciated it,’ Jake’s voice began. Tommy opened the bag and found a box of brightly coloured foam earplugs. ‘They should put an end to sleepless nights with snorers and coffee with jet-lagged strangers,’ Jake continued.

‘Thanks, mate, but you didn’t need to,’ Tommy replied, appreciative of the gesture, ‘although they’ll come in handy.’

‘You got much on today?’

‘Nope, I have a day off from both the hostel and the hotdog stand. Why, have you got something in mind?’

*

The bridge of Tommy’s nose throbbed where Jake headbutted him.

But neither could stop themselves from laughing after crashing to the concrete boardwalk by the beach. They’d hired their inline skates from a store and clumsily rolled their way only a couple of hundred metres on the journey from Venice Beach to Santa Monica before colliding and crumpling into a heap.

‘I thought you said you could skate?’ began Tommy, rubbing his nose and struggling to get back on his feet without something solid to hold on to.

‘Does the blood pouring down my leg look like it belongs to someone who can skate?’ replied Jake. ‘It’s lucky I’m like a cat with eight lives.’

‘What happened to the ninth?’

‘Oh, I lost that a long time ago. Shall we ditch these things and walk instead?’

‘Good idea.’

Jake and Tommy yanked the Velcro straps from their skates, slung them over their shoulders and walked barefoot on the beach by the side of the boardwalk.

‘I didn’t see you at the party last night,’ continued Tommy. ‘Didn’t you fancy it?’

‘I was there, but I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were laying your moves on that girl.’

‘Ah, so you saw me get blown out then,’ replied Tommy, a little surprised that he didn’t feel that embarrassed in front of someone who probably had girls falling at his feet.

‘It happens to the best of us,’ Jake replied, and patted his new friend on the shoulder. ‘Onwards and upwards, right?’

‘If you tell me there’s plenty more fish in the sea, I’m going to kill you.’

‘That depends on how big your bait is and where you dangle it.’

‘What do you think of this?’ asked Eric, and carefully placed a panama hat on his head, careful not to misplace his fussily waxed hair.

Nicole wasn’t listening. Instead her eyes were focused on Tommy and a person she vaguely recognised from the hostel, as they fell into each other and then to the ground. It was only when she spotted the ponytail that she realised it was probably the same person Tommy had left the hostel with so late two nights earlier.

‘Has your toy boy found a new friend to play with already?’ Eric teased, following her line of sight. Nicole elbowed him in the ribs.

‘He’s prettier than you, I’ll give him that,’ Eric continued, ‘but his beard isn’t as long as yours.’

‘One hair!’ Nicole replied defensively. ‘You found one hair on my chin a year ago and you’re still taking the piss about it.’

‘Ah, but that’s how it starts; first it’s one innocuous little strand poking out of your chinny chin chin, and the next thing you know, you wake up looking like Brian Blessed’s brother.’

‘You’re such an arse.’

‘And you love me for it.’

Eric removed the hat and placed it back on the head of the dummy, satisfied that Tommy had found someone else to sniff around. Because he needed Nicole’s undivided attention.

ELEVEN WEEKS EARLIER – BELGRAVIA, LONDON

‘What do you think is inside it?’ began Nicole.

Her voice echoed around an airy room housing hundreds of stainless steel safety deposit boxes of varying sizes, all stored on shiny metal shelves. Security cameras covered every square inch of the room. Eric glanced at the key in Nicole’s hand and shrugged.

‘So what now?’

‘Let’s see what’s inside the box before I make that decision, shall we?’

The Jiffy bag Mrs Baker had left for her had completely escaped Nicole’s mind. She’d been slumped on her sofa deciding that now she was jobless, she’d spend the rest of her life surrounded by cats, streaming classic Brit flick romcoms on Netflix and waiting for her Tommy Castle, William Thacker or Mark Darcy to appear on her doorstep and sweep her off her feet. Instead, she had Eric brandishing a sympathetic ear, a bottle of Prosecco and a slab of something delicious from Hotel Chocolat.

Later that night, he reminded her of Mrs Baker’s Jiffy bag, and together, they tore it open and frowned at the contents – an address for Safe Securities, Belgravia, London, and a key with an engraved number. The following morning, the hung-over pair caught a tube into central London, pressed a buzzer in a discreet doorway and, after proving her identity with a driver’s licence and credit card, Nicole was surprised to learn a safety deposit box had been registered in her name. A staff member in a smart suit ushered Nicole towards box number 23 and pulled out a key of his own. Together they inserted them in two locks, turning them in unison before the man removed a foot-long container, placed it on a table, and left Eric and Nicole to open it alone.

‘Something tells me Mrs Baker’s death could mean a new start,’ whispered Nicole.

‘Not for her it isn’t.’

‘I meant for me, idiot. I have a gut feeling there’s something in this box that’s going to change everything.’

Nicole lifted the lid, and once they saw what was inside, they frowned.

TODAY

Once the early morning smog lifted, the horizontal wooden floor planks of Santa Monica Pier became red hot to the touch under the midday sun.

So with their skates still hanging from their shoulders, Tommy and Jake tiptoed barefoot down the concrete road ramp and towards the shadows cast by the shops and railings. Tommy had never ventured onto the pier before, for the same reason he’d yet to catch a bus up to Malibu or hike to the Hollywood sign – there was a fine line between being a tourist and being a traveller.

They glanced up at the arc-shaped entrance sign and wandered slowly past the amusement arcades, aquarium, pub, restaurants and trapeze school. Tommy raised his digital camcorder to record familiar landmarks he’d seen in films like
Hancock
,
Iron Man
,
Not Another Teen Movie
and, embarrassingly,
Hannah Montana: The Movie
.

He pointed it upwards to capture the red and yellow cars moving clockwise on the Ferris wheel as he and Jake continued to absorb the fishy and candyfloss smells until they reached the end of the pier. They found space between a dozen or so fishermen whose rods, perched against the rusty blue railings, dangled into the ocean below. Together they stood in a comfortable silence, staring across the ocean and towards the horizon, each enjoying their day.

Tommy closed his eyes and inhaled the salty scent in the air, while Jake contemplated how many more oceans he might need to cross until he finally found himself a home and complete anonymity.