by John Marrs
‘You didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt!’
‘That money was going to pay for the rest of my education and my rent. When you left, I had nothing. Loving you robbed me of my career, so what else was I supposed to do?’
Savannah shook her head, disgusted by his excuses. Yet she wasn’t entirely surprised to learn Michael had switched allegiances; she was learning quickly that she couldn’t trust anyone but herself.
‘Look,’ Michael continued, regaining his composure. ‘It’s not too late for us, we can just drive away and start again, forget about the money. A clean slate, just you and me and the baby.’
‘You think I’d want you anywhere near my child? You’re a fool, Michael. And I’m a fool for trusting you. Now start walking or I’ll start shooting.’
‘What?’
‘Start walking, over there,’ Savannah replied, and pointed her gun towards a fence and a field full of corn, ‘and don’t stop until I’m gone.’
‘Savvy,’ pleaded Michael, ‘let’s talk about—’
The sound of the gunshot and the bullet landing inches away from Michael’s feet made him quickly realise there was no talking her around. He looked at her one last time, turned his back and began to walk.
Wiping a tear from her cheek, Savannah climbed into the driver’s side of the car, started the engine, locked the doors and slowly pulled away.
She didn’t look back at Michael in the rear-view mirror; instead, she rubbed her stomach and understood she didn’t need anyone to rescue her from her old life, only the baby growing inside her.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER – VENICE BEACH INTERNATIONAL HOSTEL
Nicole sat behind the hostel’s smart new reception desk, clicked away from the spreadsheet of finances on her laptop screen and then scrolled through the favourites section in her toolbar.
She revisited the Daily Mail Online page she’d read many times in the last few days. ‘British Drug Dealer Killed During Prison Riot’ read the headline, followed by a mugshot of Eric taken a year ago in his orange, prison-issue uniform. The story revealed that while awaiting trial for the cannabis discovered in the boot of her pick-up truck, he had become embroiled in a behind-bars fracas in which a solitary stab wound pieced his heart. She felt nothing for either Eric, the friend she thought she knew, or the monster he actually was.
Nicole closed the lid of her computer and turned her thoughts to more positive things. She looked around the recently redecorated hostel reception with pride. Half of the rooms had been furnished with new bunk beds, the plumbing was in full working order, new carpets had replaced the threadbare ones and a bank of computers were hooked up to Wi-Fi.
She estimated she had spent around a quarter of the money from Mrs Baker’s gift on getting the building up to code, but there was much more work to be done. Other money had been swallowed up by lawyers to ensure the property was legally in her name, along with a work permit and a visa to stay in the country. As the hostel’s standards improved, she could afford to charge higher rates, and a viral marketing campaign on Twitter and YouTube assisted in its promotion and popularity.
Eric wasn’t the only person she’d thought about that day. She’d wondered how Savannah was coping with her new baby at Jane’s house, but was puzzled as to why she’d never come back for the rest of her belongings. She hoped mother and child might one day stop by the hostel to say hello.
Tommy had remained in touch by email as he and Sean made their way around the rest of America, alternating big cities with the wilderness to suit each other’s wishes and taking cash-in-hand work where they could to fund the extension of their trip. A few months after leaving, Tommy emailed Nicole a photograph of him with his parents, who’d flown out to meet them in Seattle. Their reconciliation made her smile, but at the same time, she was sad that she had no one from her past to reconnect with.
The last thing Peyk had mentioned about Ruth was that she had been sent to Twin Towers, Los Angeles’ largest mental institution. After being diagnosed unfit to stand trial or to be repatriated back to Australia, there was little choice but for her to join more than 1,400 other mentally ill patients in the institution. Nicole worried whether Ruth had been swallowed up in the system or was actually getting the help she so desperately needed.
The subject of Ruth was also one of the last conversations she and Peyk ever had, because the following day he’d disappeared from the hostel. Nobody saw him leave, and when Nicole checked the register of visitors back three years, he had never actually officially been a guest or assigned a room. Even his cannabis farm that Tommy warned her about the day he left had gone back to being two empty disused dorms before Peyk vanished.
‘Do you want to come to the beach for a couple of hours?’ interrupted Declan, appearing from the stairs with white paint flecks stuck to his face and dungarees.
‘Sounds perfect,’ Nicole replied, and Declan planted a kiss on her lips. She smiled and rubbed his arm affectionately.
‘There’s just one thing I want to do first.’
She took the paintbrush and pot from Declan’s hand and approached the poster on the wall that read Welcome to Wherever You Are, one of the only items of decoration to remain from Ron’s days.
Then with several simple brush strokes, she painted across four of the words so it simply read Welcome.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When I wrote my debut novel The Wronged Sons, I had no idea if it would find an audience. 18 months later and with thousands of downloads world-wide, I think it’s safe to say it found one! Its success gave me the confidence to write Welcome to Wherever You Are, and in doing so, I’d like to offer heartfelt thank-you’s to the following people.
To my mum, Pamela Marrs, for being my biggest fan and for encouraging me as a child to embrace books. And now, to write them.
Thank you John Russell for your faith, your optimism and your confidence – and for helping to make poor Ruth just that little bit darker. You also have my gratitude for putting up with me constantly hunched over my phone tracking download data and mumbling random figures towards you.
A huge thank you to my Facebook Fairy Godmother, Tracy Fenton, for her continued, unwavering support and friendship – long may your guppies thrive. And of course I’m in debt to you for helping me to expose my first book to an army of readers who go by the name of Facebook’s THE Book Club. My gratitude is offered to the hundreds of you book lovers for being so enthusiastic, witty and passionate.
To Sean Costello for making my first experience working with a book editor an absolute delight.
To my old Herald & Post colleague - and LA Woman - Nicola Pittam. Thanks for your help with Los Angeles’ geographical locations. Likewise, to John Wallace for help with Ireland’s locations and language.
Thank you Kath Middleton for your invaluable proof-reading skills, it’s very much appreciated. And to Lee Dalgleish for designing my book cover. Enjoy the Lego!
To Tim Bradley for our many conversations about writing and which helped spur me on when I needed that extra little push. And similarly, to Eleanor Prescott, for her advice, encouragement and friendship.
And to Sean Mabbutt, my old travelling buddy. 1992 was a heck of a year that neither of us will ever forget. I couldn’t have done it without you!
Finally, to every reader and book lover out there who takes a risk on an unknown author and downloads their book … you have no idea what that one small decision means to each and everyone of us. THANK YOU.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Marrs is a freelance journalist based in Northampton and London, England. He writes for publications including Total Film, Guardian’s The Guide, Classic Pop, Q, OK! Magazine, The Independent and Gay Times. This is his second novel, following his 2013 debut The Wronged Sons. Follow him on Twitter @johnmarrs1
ALSO BY JOHN MARRS
The Wronged Sons
What would you do if the person you loved suddenly vanished into thin air?
Cather
ine’s cosy life as a housewife and mum-of-three is quickly thrown into disarray when husband Simon disappears without explanation. She is convinced he hasn’t left by choice as confusion and spiraling debts threaten to tear her family apart.
Meanwhile Simon has begun a carefree new life travelling the world. And he’s determined not to disclose his past to all he meets, even if it means resorting to extreme and violent measures. But why did he leave? Catherine only gets her answer 25 years later when Simon suddenly reappears on her doorstep.
During their furious final confrontation, they discover the secrets, lies and misunderstandings that tore them apart, then brought them face-to-face one last time.
PRAISE FOR THE WRONGED SONS
"A compelling, dark read that gets you thinking. 4/5" - The Sun
"It's crammed with twists and turns that'll keep you guessing right until the very end." OK! Magazine.
"Looking for a thrilling read? Then look no further." -TV Extra Magazine, Sunday Star Newspaper
"A magnificent story, one that truly captivated from the start with its style and grace and ever so subtle disclosure of the ultimate history." - littleebookreviews.com
"A story that left me on the edge of my seat. I couldn't put it down. You simply must read this book for yourself." - Book Lover's Attic
"The story is masterfully told ... the book is one that will stay with the reader for a long time. It is an extremely impressive first novel." - Online Book Club
"There are many jaw-dropping moments. If you pick up this book, expect to be shocked! This is a book that firmly deserves to be defined as a page-turner." - Cleopatra Loves Books
