CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IT’S UP TO YOU
With no idea of how far the nearest bus depot or train station was, no mobile reception and no payphone in sight, Jonathan just kept walking. And as he ambled along, calculating at this rate he’d be back up north in about a month’s time with his feet full of blisters, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been a bit rash in the choice he’d made. At least if he’d stayed with Mickey P. and The Ace Face, he told himself, he’d have definitely had transport home – even if that did entail having to suffer the both of them in the meantime.
Moreover, he had to admit it wasn’t just the practicalities of his decision to jump ship that were cause for concern, there was also the fact that he’d deserted both Tracey and Tuesday and all for nothing as it now turned out. In addition, what had initially seemed to symbolize some sort of rite of passage, a means of coming to terms with his past, he now realised was really just three blokes on two scooters travelling down the country, in order to do a favour for bloke number four.
Of course, on top of that there was Malcolm, his girlfriend Louise and Mrs. Riley for him to consider – yet three more names he could add to the list of people he’d let down thanks to his not seeing this whole sorry saga through. But at least as far as they were concerned, he could console himself in the knowledge that the other two were, no doubt, continuing on without him; so it wasn’t as if Malc wasn’t going to get his choice of final resting place at all, now, was it?
He decided the only thing for it was to try and cadge a lift from the next passing vehicle. However, instead of hearing the noise of a car engine coming up behind like he’d anticipated, he eventually recognised the rapid ying ying ying sound that could only be attributed to a couple of classic scooters.
“I don’t believe this,” he said, stopping in his tracks as his two ex-travel companions pulled up along side. Do these two never get the message?
“It’s a long way up North,” said The Ace Face.
“Yeah well,” replied Jonathan. “I’m a big boy, I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“You spoke to Tracey yet?” asked Mickey P.
“Nope,” he replied, not that it was really any of his business. “No reception.”
“Yeah, mine’s flat on the orange as well,” confirmed The Ace Face.
Flat on the what? thought Jonathan, despairingly and for someone who used to be such a nice guy, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly when it was this man had turned into such a downright prat.
He looked up and down the road in the hope of spotting a vehicle whose driver might be willing to rescue him, but unfortunately there wasn’t one in sight.
“Come on Swifty,” coaxed Mickey P. “You don’t have to do this. Brighton won’t be the same without you.”
Jonathan began to waiver, asking himself if he was just using Mickey P.’s stolen scooter and The Ace Face’s over the top behaviour as an excuse to run away – again. After all, was it really fair for him to complain because one of them hadn’t changed at all in the intervening years since he last saw him, yet at the same time become increasingly irritated by the other because he had?
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Going Underground
HumorAt 8 ¾ months pregnant, Tracey Parkes has everything she wants in life. A nice house, even if it is a bit on the small side, a long awaited baby on the way and a reliable husband to boot... Well, as reliable as a husband can be when he's keeping a l...
