1st. And it was now June.
Vernon let out a noise which was a cross between a roar and a frustrated sort of yelp, causing the Irish couple with the lost luggage, as well as most of the passengers in the vicinity, to whip their heads around and stare at him.
‘ That goddamn bitch!’ he yelled, kicking hard at the end leg of a row of seats, spilling the coffee of the woman sitting at the other end and causing her to jump up in alarm.
She won’t get away with this, he thought, stalking back towards the car park before Security were summoned to escort him off the premises. No way is she taking my son. No way is she having him; he’s mine. I’ll hunt her down like a dog, and she’ll be sorry she ever messed with me. She can have the fucking divorce, I’ll be glad to see the back of her whining miserable back. But there is no way on God’s earth that she’s having my boy.
When he got to the ticket machines, he dug angrily in his pockets for change, waiting in line behind a young bespectacled man who couldn’t seem to fathom how the machine worked. The man had a huge suitcase standing on its end beside him, and Vernon’s rage increased as the man dithered and flapped, trying to put his ticket in the slot for banknotes. Vernon could not contain himself any longer.
‘ It’s simple, jerkoff! Put the goddamn ticket in THERE, and the goddamn money in THERE. What’s your fucking problem?’
Before the young man could reply, Vernon pushed over his suitcase, causing it to thud heavily against the ticket machine. He took out his cellphone and hit the speed-dial to call Kate. It went straight to voicemail. He strode back towards the terminal again.
He’d had an idea.
Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down, he forced himself to walk slowly up to the British Airways Reservations desk.
‘ I want to buy a ticket to London. Leaving tomorrow, early as possible.’
CHAPTER 16
They drove in silence for a while, creeping through traffic lights and across zebra crossings towards London’s western edge. These outer reaches of the city seemed so sad and run-down, the bright sunshine exposing the cracks and the filth, the boarded-up shops, black bin liners spilling their guts on every kerb. Kate couldn’t help see it as a kind of virus that had spread through the city, so that every borough looked the same: the same shops on every high street, identical gangs of teenagers in identical clothes. Actually, there was something hopeful about the kids, the way they thrived in the most barren places, their adaptability, making their own fun and enjoying life though it appeared the world hated them. Again, like viruses. And soon these parts of London would be stricken by another disease: gentrification would come and prices would soar, and that branch of Tennessee Fried Chicken would become a nice little deli, and the kids would be driven somewhere else, further marginalised but always there.
Leaving London, Kate felt like an animal that had been chased from its hole. Exposed and endangered. She turned her face from the window, looked around to make sure Jack was alright. He was fine, leaning back like a VIP in a limo, gazing imperiously at the strange streets. What was he thinking? Did he miss his dad, his friends? Or was he too excited by all this newness, this adventure? Probably a little of both. When he was older he would probably look back and wonder about this strange holiday his mum took him on as a kid.
They took the M4 for a short distance, driving past signposts that pointed to THE WEST. The words gave Kate goosebumps and she rubbed her forearms. Going west. Into the past. To a place where she was going to have to confront her memories, pry open the lid of Pandora’s box. She felt fluttery panic, bird’s wings in her stomach and chest. Needing distraction, she turned on the radio.
“ Animal rights groups are denying responsibility for last night’s shocking murder of a scientist in
Alan Furst
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L. Ron Hubbard
Cecelia Ahern
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Susan Schild
Donald F. Glut, Mark D. Maddox
Eli Amir