Skybreak [not to be continued]

VI

I fell forward, being rudely awaken by the screech of my new life calling out to me. I sleepily looked around to see the carriage emptying itself onto the platform. This was it: the bustling Waterloo Station.

I wondered off the train and set about finding tube maps to locate myself to where I wanted to be. Next to me, a two boys stood, one seeming significantly younger that the other, holding another copy of a map - upside down.

"Calum!" I heard the younger boy exclaim, "How many times do I have to tell you, we're not at Victoria Station, we're at Waterloo!" His voice held an accent, something that definitely was not British but instead ... I wasn't sure but it was recognisable. He jabbed his finger aimlessly at the map, presumably where he thought we were. I couldn't blame them for getting lost, I was British and about 90% of the time even I couldn't read it.

"Excuse me?" I quietly interrupted their debate on where they were. "Are you okay, you look like you're lost and do you want some help?"

Being the stubborn boys they were, they both immediately shook their heads. "Nope, we know where we're going." The darker haired boy spoke swiftly. Now, listening to them talk to me, I realised that they were Australian, the accents were clear in the way and the words they spoke, and I felt pleased with myself for actually recognising an accent. 

"Sorry for our argument, Calum just didn't believe me when I said we were at Waterloo Station." The blonde boy spoke, cocking his head as he talked to flip his fringe out of his eyes. "But we're fine now, aren't we Calum?" He subtly glared at his friend who nodded and muttered a "Yes Lucas" under his breathe.

I nodded, going along with what they were telling me, even though I could see that they had no idea where to get where they were going. "Okay then," I turned to leave, making sure not to jolt my guitar and accidentally hit them. As I walked off I turned back to face them and shouted, "It might help if you have the map the right way round - just saying." I grinned at their confused faces before stepping onto the escalator and descending into the darkness of the underground.

~

For the second time today, the train I was on jolted to a holt. I was thrown back into my seat as we pulled up into the next station: West Ham. The doors effortlessly slid open and I stumbled out, slightly deafened by the many speakers yelling at me to 'Please mind the gap between the train and the platform'. I squeezed through the crowds until I stood still with my back against the wall - watching the hundreds of people rushing around. In that moment, I'd found a quiet corner of peace in a life crammed full of noise.

Eventually moving, I grabbed my bags and wondered up the thousands of lifts, stairs and escalators and out of the dark, confined stations into the burning daylight. Stunned by the bright lights, it took me a moment to regain my focus before I began my hunt for the hotel I was staying in.

I'd booked in advance, online of course, but I still had the difficulty of finding the hotel. It took a lot of google searches, awkward conversations with strangers and numerous attempts at directions before I finally found the place I would be staying.

Dragging myself and my belongings into the foyer of the hotel earned me several glares and odd flames from other people in there. Here was a young adult, half-asleep and carrying endless bags (not to mention my previous guitar) and signing into a hotel that was serving champagne in the restaurant. Acting optimistic and oblivious to the thoughts of everyone, I smiled and greeted the receptionist who soon handed me my room key.

I lobbed my bags up yet more stairs and arrived in my temporary home in the city. I dumped them down on a sofa, slightly relieved to unload myself of all this baggage.

The first thing I picked up was my guitar; a Gibson, beautifully handcrafted and shaped. It was literally the thing I loved most. I had been given it as my sweet sixteenth birthday present, I didn't want a car like an average 16 year old, just the instrument I had spent years dreaming of playing. I was fourteen when I first lay my eyes on a Hummingbird Quilt, as it lay perfectly in its case in the music shop I worked at in the holidays. As I knew the owner of the shop, I managed to persuade him to let me play it: the sound was golden, streaming like waves endlessly from my fingertips, the strings were delicate, and it radiated from my hands as I held it. It was my ambition to have one of them, and eventually I did.

I felt its familiar weight in my hands, its essence possessing me to stretch my fingers and play it. My fingers reached out to play the chords of a familiar song: With a Little Help from my Friends. The Beatles were a band I was well accustomed to, and as a result I knew and loved many of their songs. This one in particular had been a favourite of Rosa's and I played it now, reminiscing of the hundreds of times we had sung it together.

As I sang the final lines, I drew my thoughts to a close. This was a new world. What was in the past was gone now, and I had to forgive, remember and move on. That's what my plan was. Today I would rest, tomorrow there were streets to roam, songs to play and people to entertain. I lay my guitar down on the sofa in the room and then lay on the bed, letting my thoughts and dreams engulf me, preparing myself for the adventures happening tomorrow.