Missing You...

Chapter Two

Thursday 27 November, 1980

Paul walked out into the front garden. It was early in the morning so he hadn't bothered getting dressed, and he'd settled for walking around in a dressing gown and fluffy slippers. He ran his fingers through his already bedraggled hair. The sun was just peeking out from over the smoky grey buildings of London, making the dreary city look a lot more attractive. Paul sighed wistfully. His hand dove into his dressing gown pocket and fished out the photograph from the previous night.

"You always loved watching the sunrise, didn't you, Johnny?" he asked the picture.

'John' didn't respond. He just kept smiling, but Paul thought his eyes looked a bit brighter than usual. Paul suddenly realised what he was doing and quickly shoved the photo back into his pocket.

"I must be mad." Paul said to himself. "I'm talking to a bloody photo!"

"Are you okay, Mister?" 

Paul nearly jumped out of his skin. It's always a shock discovering you are being watched when you think you're alone. The voice had come from over the fence. Paul moved cautiously towards it, peering over the fence to catch a of glimpse of who had spoken. He leaned against it and glanced downwards. He saw a young girl staring back up at him, a look of curiosity on her face.

This girl didn't look very old, only about thirteen or fourteen. She had long golden-brown hair trailing down her back in loose waves, and her bright hazel eyes glittered with happiness. She was smiling up at Paul. She had a gap in the front of her teeth. "Hi!" she said cheerfully.

"Hello." Paul replied warily. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, still smiling. 

"Oh, um... nothing." Paul said quickly. 

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one. I wasn't talking to anyone."

"Oh. But I was sure I heard you -" the girl examined Paul's anxious expression. "Hey, what's wrong? You look kind of sad. Can I help you in any way?"

"It's nothing, really." Paul said, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm just sort of lonely. I mean, I found some old photos of my best friend - former best friend - and, well..."

"You miss him but don't know where he is or how to tell him." said the girl. She flicked her hair out of her eyes, giggling at Paul's reaction. "How did I do, sir?"

"Actually, you got it in one." Paul chuckled. "Any idea what I could do?"

The girl took a moment to think. She fiddled with a strand of her long hair, twisting it around her finger. "Well," she said after a while, "who is your friend exactly?"

Paul dug around in his dressing gown pocket and produced the crumpled photograph. He handed it to the girl with a flourish. "That's my friend." Paul announced proudly. "He's called John."

"He's a handsome guy, I'll tell you that." the girl said, admiring John's facial features.

"I know." Paul muttered, then added aloud, "What do you think I should say to him?"

"Do you have any idea where he lives?"

"He's living -" Paul's face fell, his eyes turning misty, "He's living in America now. In New York."

"And how badly do you want to see him?" 

"Oh, more than anything! We haven't talked in over ten years!"

"Well, there's only one thing for it." said the girl, smoothing out the photo and handing it back to Paul, "You'll have to go and visit him. Book a flight and find this John friend of yours."

Paul considered this for a moment. Travelling abroad was extremely expensive, but if he was able to find John and talk to him again then it would all be worth it. Paul was determined to find his friend and make things right again. He grinned gratefully at the golden haired girl.

"Thank you so much, young lady." Paul said, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously. 

"It's my pleasure." she replied, smiling despite the fact that her arm was being violently joggled.

Paul nodded at her then turned on his heel to make the flight arrangements. Before he set foot inside he suddenly stopped and looked back. The girl was still leaning on the fence, playing with a strand of her hair, looking a little anxious. Paul waved cheerily at her and gave her the thumbs up sign. She laughed and copied him. 

"I like you, miss." Paul said, chuckling.

"I like you too." she replied. "What's your name, mister?"

"I'm Paul." said Paul. He bobbed a small curtsy, pretending his dressing gown was a skirt. "What's your name?"

The girl giggled and hopped down from the fence. "Since you seem like a nice guy, you can call me by my nickname!" she called over her shoulder.

"Oh yeah?" said Paul. "What's your nickname?"

"My friends call me Macca!"

The girl smiled, gave Paul a cheery wave, then ran back to her house and disappeared inside.