by Mark A Biggs
‘Max, Max, wake up.’
Wearily, he opened one eye and then the other. ‘Yes?’
‘Other than me, who have you spoken to today?’
‘Thankfully nobody.’
‘Living like this is not good for us. Come on, there are another 2600 passages on board this ship. Let’s go and find someone to talk to.’
‘You find someone and come back and tell me all about it. I’m quite content to sit on the balcony and prepare, just in case, after all your socialising, we end up hosting an impromptu soiree.’
‘Max, you’re insufferable. We are letting what should be our last grand adventure turn into a floating nursing home. At least, when we lived in Bellbird Village, we had company; even you had to eat in the dining room with others and occasionally be civil. We couldn’t hide ourselves away like we have been doing here.’
‘I told you this was going to be a modern prison hulk.’
‘Max! It isn’t a hulk; it is what you make it. I will let you stay here today, but not tomorrow. You know that social connection improves physical health and psychological well-being. Wasn’t it you who told me years ago that a lack of social connection is of greater detriment to health than obesity, smoking and high blood pressure?’
‘That may be true, but you forget I’m married, so I don’t have to worry.’
‘Go on with you. I want to see where this one is leading, but tread carefully.’
‘My love, you’re the one quoting longevity studies and spending too much of your time watching the Discovery channel. Marriage is good for a man’s health; he lives longer but it doesn’t really matter for women. So, you need those women’s gossip groups, while I’m just fine because I have you.’
‘Doesn’t really matter? You forget, Max, that for we women, when our husbands die, we live happily for 15 more years. What happens to you men when your wife dies?’
‘I can’t exactly remember, but it must be at least 25 years!’
‘Ha Ha. 25 years in your dreams. Let me remind you, eight months, Max. eight months. That’s it, and do you know why?’
‘Because we deserve it?’ Max said, giving a little puppy-like smile, trying to extract himself from defeat by the use of humour.
‘You can’t live without us. So do as you are told.’
‘How about we die after eight months because of a broken heart?’
‘You smoothie. You can stay here today, but after that, we need to get active again, physically and socially. Agreed?’
‘You know it’s not social relationships in themselves that have the clearest health benefits. It’s being involved with and helping people. You tell me who wants our help. Or are you thinking we make a return to spying? Perhaps, as the Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot of the Queen Mary?’ Accept it, Olivia; we are just two old farts, out of sight and out of mind. You may stalk as many of the passengers as you like, but it won’t change things.’
‘Exasperating, you’re quite insufferable.’
‘Ah, but lovable.’
‘Maddening is the word that springs to mind. While I’m gone, don’t you dare go back to sleep and, Max, that’s not the only thing that must change. We have been eating badly and drinking too much. No more bacon and eggs for breakfast, chips are out and alcohol only on weekends. We haven’t been looking after our gut bacteria and it’s time we did.’
‘Oh no, not bran and rabbit food again?’
‘You’re the one who’s been complaining about being stiff and sore. All that rubbish you have been eating isn’t helping; it causes inflammation.’
‘Thank God the Queen isn’t visiting Okinawa; you would have us out working in the fields.’
‘Now you have me going, Max. Did you know that, per head of population, there are more centenarians on Okinawa than anywhere else in the world, and five times more than in the rest of Japan, and that’s a high bar. Rates of cancer, stroke, coronary heart disease and depression are well below the average for advanced economies, yet they don’t go to gyms nor do they jog. Instead, they work in their vegetable gardens, practice tai chi and ride bikes. Food is part of the reason, but they are happy. It’s just happiness. Happiness comes from being engaged; they are engaged in work and they spend a lot of time with family and friends.’
‘Okinawa maybe,’ retorted Max, ‘but Japan has the world’s fastest ageing population with more people dying alone than any other country. So many that they have a dedicated industry devoted to cleaning up after them.’
‘If you go on behaving like this, and if I were to pass away, that will be you.’
‘Na, the butler would find me before I putrefied. Anyway, your “guidance” is sounding more like one of my sermons. As a Priest, at least I would have an excuse.’
Choosing to ignore her husband’s comment, she sighed with frustration before saying, ‘You’re not listening; happiness comes from being engaged, through work, family and friends. It’s out there waiting for us. You won’t rediscover it if you choose to sit about here moping.’
‘Great, spending time with family; that’s really going to work for us! They put us in the nursing home in the first place and stole all of our money as well.’
‘But look what happened when we were needed. We broke out of the home and found the Janus Machine. Max, we came alive, and it’s time we did again. From now on, we get off the ship at every port, even if it’s for a simple stroll around the harbour. We eat healthy foods and in one of the public dining rooms that allow sharing a table with other people. Max, we are going to participate in the activities that are on offer.’
‘What! The activities are just the same old rubbish being repeated on every single trip.’
‘First, how would you know? You have never been to any. Second, with your memory, it would be a new adventure every single day.’
Giving Olivia his cutest look, he said, ‘Harsh. Maybe every third day.’
‘You can play as coy as you like, but you start tomorrow. And then in a couple of weeks’ time when we dock in Dubrovnik, I want you to take me to see Kupari, the deserted resort that you and Lucia visited. It’s over a year ago now since you two were there.’
Olivia hoped that by going back to Kupari, Max would be re-energised, if not physically, as that was becoming increasingly difficult because of age, but at least mentally by recalling their last great adventure together. However, she was mainly seeking a goal for him; a new challenge for them both to work towards no matter how trivial and insignificant it may seem to anyone else.
Max was feeling argumentative and felt like saying… no. There’s nothing there except some old ruins. But he mellowed slightly with the thought of Kupari and while nodding yes, said. ‘Why?’
‘From your stories, I feel that going there was the turning point for Lucia, where she faced her past in the Serb Paramilitary and the life that followed. That is, until she recognised you in Scotland.’
‘We can’t; they will follow us.’
‘Rubbish, Max. They gave up watching us when we gave up on ourselves. Now I’m going out and don’t let me find you asleep when I come back.’
Max made his way slowly to the balcony. It was a beautiful Spring afternoon; the sun was dancing atop the flat blue ocean. As the Queen cut her way majestically through the idyllic sea, he pondered. It was only a little over a year ago when they were confined to a nursing home in Australia and waiting for God. He’d read the coded message in the newspaper that called them back into the service of Her Majesty’s government. Somehow, they’d escaped and travelled to the United Kingdom to retrieve the Janus Machine, which had been hidden in the dying days of the Second World War. In Operation Underpants, as he called it, the fate of London and much of the world had depended upon them. Now, once more, they were discarded; although self-imposed it was still exile and he knew they were not wanted. This time there would be no Lazarus moment and, at eighty-eight years of age, he was entitled to be grumpy, be waited on, and sleep whenever he wanted. Olivia would force him out tomor
row, but who would want to talk to him anyway? The sullenness retreated when he thought of Claudia, his Lucia. He had wanted to say goodbye and thank you, but they hadn’t been given the chance. I wonder if she thinks of us. In the early days of their retreat, he had sometimes imagined that he saw her, as a new passenger boarding the Queen, but it was never Lucia. That time was in the past, and he no longer spotted her; an enigma lurking in the shadows.
CHAPTER TEN
Jack and Charlee
‘Did you speak to anyone, or were you a cranky old man sitting alone at a table?’
‘Cranky? I resemble that remark,’ answered Max, having returned to the suite after his first foray out into the general public. ‘I had a pleasant morning watching the world go by, but no one came over to chat, if that’s what you are asking, even though I made sure to smile at everyone as they passed, particularly the nice young ladies.’
Smiling as she spoke, Olivia replied, ‘Well, that’s a great strategy, a misogynistic and testy old man.’
‘No, positively not misogynistic. If my failing venerable brain is not deceiving me, I recall from my crossword days, a misogynist is a person who dislikes and reflects hatred or mistreatment to women. I promise you, it was most definitely a welcoming smile.’
‘You know, Max, that’s still not overly reassuring.’
‘I can stay home then?’
‘Ha, absolutely not. I’m sure your smiling will eventually lead you into some most interesting conversations, but I’m willing to wager it won’t be with the young ladies!’
‘Are you suggesting I’m no longer cute?’
‘You still are to me, my love, but as I’ve aged, God gifted me with cataracts.’
‘You’re a tough woman sometimes. Lovable, but tough.’
‘Only when you need it, my dear… a perfect team.’
* * *
‘Hello,’ said a young boy as he approached the table where an irritable Max was seated for a second day.
Max looked up. The boy, he guessed, was about eleven years of age, with an Australian accent. From Australia himself, his curiosity was tweaked. He opened his mouth, hesitated and, instead of saying something, closed it again, returning his gaze to where it was before the boy spoke, disengaged from the world, staring at a writing pad. Unperturbed, the boy pulled out one of the other chairs that accompanied the table and seated himself opposite Max.
‘Are you a cantankerous old man?’
The word cantankerous caught his attention. ‘That’s a big word,’ he replied, looking up over the rim of his reading glasses.
‘I’m good with words and maths, but I have really bad handwriting. Do you think that matters?’
‘Do you practise?’
‘Yes,’
‘And?’
‘It’s still messy. Do you want me to show you?’
Max’s answer was to be ‘no’, but he was trapped. Even though he was feeling irritable and wasn’t ready to be sociable, he couldn’t force himself to reject the boy’s interest. Instead he said, ‘Ok.’
The boy changed seats, taking the one next to Max, then, picking up the pen from the writing pad on which Max had been doodling the time away, he wrote in a scrappy but legible script.
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
Finishing and looking at Max enquiringly, the boy said, ‘Shambolic, isn’t it? Did you know the sentence has all the letters of the alphabet in it?’
‘Shambolic! You do love your words. No, it’s scruffy but quite legible. In fact, much better than my handwriting and I survived.’
‘Keep practising. Is that what you are telling me?’
‘Yes, but have you ever heard of the story called Animal School? I think it was written by someone called Reeves?’ The boy shook his head.
‘Once upon a time,’ started Max, ‘the animals decided that they should do something meaningful to meet the problems of the new world, so they organised a school.
‘They adopted an activity curriculum of running, climbing, swimming and flying. To make it easier to administer, all of the animals took all of the subjects.
‘The duck was excellent at swimming. In fact, he was better than his instructor. However, he made only passing marks in flying and was very poor at running. Since he was so slow in running, he had to drop his swimming class and do extra running. This caused his webbed feet to become badly worn, meaning that he dropped to an average mark in swimming. Fortunately, “average” was acceptable, so nobody worried about it except the duck.
‘The rabbit started at the top of the class in running but developed a nervous twitch in his leg muscles because he had so much makeup work to do in swimming.
‘The squirrel was excellent in climbing, but he encountered constant frustration in flying class because his teacher insisted that he start from the ground up instead of from the treetop down. He developed cramps from overexertion, so he ended up with a C in climbing and a D in running.
‘The eagle was a real problem student and was severely disciplined for being a non-conformist. In climbing class, he beat all of the others to the top, but insisted on using his own way of getting there!
‘At the end of the year, an abnormal eel that could swim exceedingly well and also run, climb and fly a little, had the highest average and was made the valedictorian.’
When Max finished recalling the story, he briefly waited for the boy to say something, but found he needed to fill the momentary silence. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Jack.’
‘Do you know what the story is saying Jack?’
‘Concentrate on your strengths.’
‘You got it in one. You can’t ignore your weaknesses but focus on your strengths and manage the weaknesses.’
‘Fangio won five Formula One World Drivers’ Championships, a record which stood for 47 years until beaten by Michael Schumacher.’
‘Did he now?’ replied Max, a little surprised by the sudden change in topic. ‘I should call you Sir Jack?’
‘Why?’
‘After Sir Jack Brabham, the Australian Formula One driver.’
‘His real name wasn’t Jack; it was John Arthur Brabham.’
‘Right!’ said Max, laughing at himself as he spoke.
Jack, unperturbed by Max’s apparent failure to appreciate the finer subtleties of motor racing, continued his account of Formula One drivers.
‘My favourite driver was Niki Lauda. I have to go now, but I will come back and play cards with you tomorrow.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why? Don’t you like me?’ asked Jack, looking surprised by Max’s answer.
‘Now that’s a conundrum,’ said Max aloud. How could he answer without hurting the young man’s feelings? Then it struck him. ‘Hasn’t your mother ever told you about Stranger Danger?’
‘Are you telling me you’re a naughty man as well as a grumpy one?’
‘No, I’m not saying that at all.’ This conversation is taking a nasty turn. Is it possible Olivia has put him up to this? ‘What I meant was, I will be busy.’
‘No, you won’t. You will just sit here, sullen and lonely.’
‘I’m not sullen.’ Where does he get these words from?
‘That’s good, so I will see you tomorrow.’ Jack rose, ready to leave.
‘Wait! Ask your mother.’
‘Ok. What’s your name?’
‘Max.’
Jack, from his belt, took a walkie-talkie and, holding it up so Max could see it, asked, ‘Do you want me to ask her now?’
Surprised but impressed by the radio, Max answered, ‘Nah. When you see her.’
‘Ok. Bye Max.’ With that said, he was gone.
What’s Olivia going to say, thought Max. Yesterday, I came back saying I was leering at young women, which wasn’t true. Today, I’m talking to children, which is true. Worse, what’s his mother going to say when Jack asks for permission to play cards with an odd, cantankerous, sullen old man? I think that was the extent
of his repertoire. This is not going to be good. Hang on just one second. What are the chances of this happening? Olivia must have put the kid up to this. But when Max told Olivia of his day and his plans to play cards with a boy called Jack tomorrow, she confirmed that she had played no part, nor was Olivia perturbed by them meeting, ‘That’s nice dear,’ and with an, ‘are you ready to go out for dinner? We might meet some interesting people,’ the discussion was over.
Why he returned to meet with Jack, Max wasn’t sure, but, mumbling and grumbling, he seated himself at the same table as the previous day and opened a book he’d had brought with him. Although it was a little early, he still found himself glancing up to see if Jack was approaching. Max, what are you doing here, he said quietly to himself before examining his book again, realising that he wasn’t reading it.
‘Hello Max,’ came the cheerful voice of Jack. ‘This is my sister, Charlee.’
With Jack was a young girl not more than 8 years of age. In her hands was a small doll and she swayed rhythmically from side to side. Max waited for Charlee to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, he gave them a surly stare. Charlee whispered something to her brother, which made him smile.
‘What did she say?’ asked Max inquisitively.
‘Charlee thinks that you haven’t been to your happy place.’
For a second, Max was taken aback. From the mouth of babes. He hadn’t heard the phrase “Happy Place” before, but its meaning was self-evident. Then he realised he hadn’t been to his happy place since coming on board. There it is, he whispered to himself. With that simple thought, he felt the black dog of depression begin to leave him. ‘My happy place’, a vision forming in his mind, ‘I’m driving, the road is deserted, in front are rolling green hills and behind I can see the mountains. The sky isn’t brilliant blue but neither is it grey. Instead it’s a kaleidoscope of colour: white, blue, pink and grey. The scene is stunningly beautiful and I’m in awe of the wonders of God’s world and the magic of life, a feeling of awe’
