“How’re you doing?” Kris asked.
“OK, I guess. You?”
“Yeah. OK.”
“Good, good,” she replied, collecting a clipboard hanging on a wall hook and busying herself with reading whatever was on it.
“What you up to?” Kris peered over the top of the clipboard.
“Ordering stock. My scanner’s playing up.”
“Right. What’s that then?” He wasn’t interested in knowing and she didn’t especially want to explain, but she obliged anyway, understanding that her dad was probably feeling this a lot more than she was. Her dad. That’s who he was.
“I’m going to err…” She dashed across the kitchen and disappeared inside the walk-in refrigerator. Kris watched on, rendered helpless by his own impending loss. Wotto came over and patted his arm.
“As I told her,” he nodded in the direction Krissi had just taken, “you shouldn’t think the worst. Don’t grieve for them yet.”
Kris lifted his eyes and looked straight into Wotto’s face. He was young—no more than twenty-five, at a guess—with a bright, sincere expression. He’d seen pain; it was written all over him, yet it didn’t drag him down. So much wisdom in those words.
“You’re right,” he nodded. “Thanks.”
“She’ll be OK, you watch,” Wotto added, thumbing at Krissi as she emerged again, clipboard still in hand. “She always is.”
“Yeah, she’s tough,” Kris agreed.
“You’re not joking!” Wotto laughed and turned back to his preparations. The restaurant was due to open in twenty minutes and they were nowhere near ready. Krissi looked from Kris to Wotto, trying to ascertain what had passed between them. Kris gave her a wink and she came to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“I love you.”
“And I you,” he said, returning the kiss on her forehead. “I’ve got a bit more information. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”
Krissi stepped away and waited while he searched for the words to tell her what he had discovered, each one piercing right into her like a poisoned dart. Almost two years had passed since her selfishness had pushed a wedge between them and still she didn’t regret what she had done. How could she now, when they were waiting, powerless and ignorant? Kris watched her carefully, taking in her reaction, for the first time truly understanding why she had needed to know the identity of her real father, and also finally realising that none of it mattered. She was his daughter: as good as blood, this love that filled his heart and kept it beating. However bad it was when they found out for sure, he knew that they would get through this together, the way they always had, and he would at last be ready to tell her the truth.
Opening time had merely shifted the friends to a table in the corner, where they dutifully sat, drinking purchased beverages and picking at a large pizza. None of them had an appetite, but they didn’t know what else to do. Every so often, Jess’s phone would beep and she’d glance at the screen, then return it to her bag. Shaunna was doing her best to entertain her young namesake, who really could have done with having a nap, but was as obstinate as her parents when it came to doing the right thing. Adele was pressing a few escaped granules of sugar to powder with her fingernail and Eleanor was feeding Toby. James was standing by the door, watching George and Josh engaged in what seemed to be a very difficult exchange outside, each looking past the other. Kris noticed Jess begin to crumble and took her hand.
“I need some air,” she said, getting up and pushing past him. She stumbled outside and walked a few yards down the road, in the opposite direction to George and Josh. A few seconds later, they came back towards the restaurant; Josh returned inside, while George stayed to talk to Jess.
“It’s not their plane,” Josh announced. “They landed a few hours before the crash.”
“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes. I’ve just checked the flight numbers. Apparently there’s been a big storm that’s taken out the communications system in the city, which is why we haven’t heard from them and also why the news channels couldn’t confirm the flight details. Anyway, they’re safe, as far as we can tell.”
Adele began to sob and Shaunna rushed to her, hugging her tightly. Little Shaunna watched on in bemusement.
CHAPTER FIVE:
TAILING A MONSOON
The plane once again straightened out and slowed as it approached the airstrip from the opposite direction. Andy reached across his brother and opened the blind. The rain was torrential, the water that had accumulated on the tarmac creating a terrific spray, as the wheels bounced once, twice, then smoothed out, taking in the full length of the runway before they came to a halt. Some of the passengers cheered, although Andy wasn’t able to share their sense of relief just yet; he turned to his brother, who was fast asleep, and decided, against regulations, to dash to the toilet while no-one was looking. By the time he returned, Dan was unbelted and out of his seat.
“Come on!” he commanded. Andy hesitated a moment, waiting for the telltale tension in Dan’s neck muscles. After all these years he still loved to wind him up, although he was looking a little off-colour, so Andy took it no further. They shuffled forward and queued behind others awaiting their turn, some fussing with bags and belongings, unaware of the impatience building around them. Dan checked his watch and tapped his fingers on the back of a seat. They were going to miss the call at this rate.
It was the culmination of many months of planning and legal negotiations that could have been made all the more complex because of the emotive issues within which they were embedded, the final stage of setting in motion everything that had been ambitiously envisaged. Nine months had passed since Alistair Campion died, an unintended victim of a man crazed by loss and loneliness. There was still no credible explanation for why he targeted Campion in particular, but regardless, he was no more, and the fire had ensured his empire went with him. Almost.
Campion’s wife died not long after and what was left of the business would have remained forever intestate, had it not been for the discovery of a singular son and heir. With the directors dispersed to other boardrooms across the UK, Alistair’s estranged son Jason had finally and rightfully won his inheritance. If they made it to the hotel in time they might even find out what he intended to do with it.
Jason was no stranger. Dan and Andy had known him for years, in passing at least. Now in his early twenties, he still sported the moody, sullen attitude of his youth and insisted on wearing arty, dark attire even in the midst of summer, when the rest of the country was donning its shorts and vest, whatever the weather. He certainly hadn’t inherited his dress sense from his father, nor, it would seem, his business sense, for it was apparent from all previous communications that he didn’t want the money and was desperate to dispense with the responsibilities that came with it.
They at last made it inside the terminal and stopped at the first open area where they could get out of the flow of foot traffic. Dan was fidgety and felt sick.
“I’ll stay and check in with the haulage people, if you like,” Andy suggested.
“Yeah. Good idea. I’ll get to the hotel and set everything up. See you there.” Dan was already moving away, grateful that he could save face. The humidity wasn’t helping much, although didn’t normally bother him. Maybe it was something he’d eaten. The mere thought of food turned his stomach and he quickly stepped outside, gulping in a great lungful of mountain air. It was warm and moist, but wonderfully real compared to the plane, and it instantly eased the nausea.
Two groups of people congregated outside the terminal: passengers who had just exited and were now variously awaiting taxis or lifts, and then the taxi drivers, legitimate or otherwise, seeking to pick up a fare. Somewhere in amongst the latter group would be their connection and Dan started to scour the crowd, wondering how he might recognise this person. If he’d felt well, he’d have stayed with his brother, as their lift was someone Andy knew from his previous visit to Nepal. Dan rubbed his eye
s and swallowed back the saliva, hoping it was the product of his mind rather than his stomach.
“Andrew!” a voice called from within the midst of waiting cars, a hand waving over the heads of the crowd, looming closer, until a smiling brown face came into view.
“Ah. Yeah,” Dan said under his breath with a weary realisation of how useful it could sometimes be that he and Andy looked so alike, although it wasn’t the easiest thing to explain to those who didn’t know them well.
“Hello,” the man said materialising in front of him, hand outstretched in friendship.
“Hi,” Dan smiled and shook the hand.
“You are not Andrew, I see, but you must surely be his brother Daniel,” the man smiled back.
“I am, though I prefer Dan.”
“Of course. I am Bhagwan,” he said, unhooking Dan’s holdall from his shoulder without waiting for confirmation that this was acceptable. Dan was glad to be rid of the weight and followed him through the rapidly diminishing horde, to the rusty old pickup truck parked at an angle of almost forty-five degrees to the kerb. The man chucked the bag in the back and Dan winced, hoping the thud as it landed was his water bottle rather than his tablet, not that it would matter by the time they reached the hotel, judging by the inch or so of rainwater it was now swimming in. He climbed into the front and fastened his seatbelt, noting that his companion had not fastened his own.
“So,” Bhagwan said, steering hard out onto the road. “You have not visited Nepal before?”
“No,” Dan replied, grasping for the handle on the inside of the door in an attempt to stay absolutely upright, so sure he was going to throw up at any second.
“And what do you think of it so far? Wet, huh?”
“You could say that,” Dan replied, although in all honesty it was no worse than September in England.
“Most people come when it is not monsoon season,” Bhagwan explained, throwing the truck around a corner and accelerating sharply up a steep slope. Dan lurched forward and pressed his lips together. He was starting to sweat with the effort of keeping his stomach contents where they were.
For this reason, he didn’t reply to the man’s observation and felt terribly rude, but he really didn’t want to risk opening his mouth, so he nodded and hummed, whilst Bhagwan narrated their journey through the current downpour, regaling him with tales of monsoon seasons past, where the roads were a foot deep in water, with graphic descriptions of floating excrement and other such unpleasantries, pinching his nose or adding sound effects for authenticity. None of this was helping at all.
By the time they pulled up outside the hotel, the urge to expel was so great that the best Dan could offer was a vague utterance of thanks and an apology before he bolted inside, on the lookout for anything that looked remotely like a toilet. To his delight, the symbols on the doors made for an easy mission. The man standing in the foyer watched on in bewilderment as his newest arrival sprinted straight for the restroom without a word.
Meanwhile, Bhagwan returned to the airport, where he parked almost identically to his prior visit and waited for Andy, who was in turn still waiting for the hold to be unloaded so that he could check their shipment had arrived in one piece. It wasn’t an especially precious cargo—not to him or Dan—but when they had been charged with the task of coordinating the ordering and delivery, it was made apparent that the equipment was vital to the survival of an entire village. With this in mind, and the desire for a new adventure lurking just below the surface, Andy suggested they fly out and oversee the delivery in person. Dan had immediately agreed, although he hadn’t seemed quite so enthusiastic since they left. He was very quiet, with none of his usual resistance to anything and everything Andy suggested.
After a wait of only half an hour, which seemed a lot longer in the absence of anything to do to pass it, a customs official confirmed that the equipment had been successfully unloaded and provided Andy with the number for the storage container, where it would remain until the following morning, ready to be transferred onto their transport to the village. Andy had readily entrusted Bhagwan with the task of arranging all of this, even though they had spoken just once during the past decade. He shoved the piece of paper with the storage container number deep into the zip pocket of his rucksack and headed out into the wet Kathmandu afternoon, genuinely thrilled to see his old friend and sharing a heartfelt embrace.
As they drove away from the airport, they caught up on the less complicated aspects of life in the years that had passed since they last saw each other, both much younger then and with fewer cares for the future. Andy had been hiking through the Himalayas at the time: the end of a three month treacherous journey across India. Unlike most of the other people he met on his travels, he wasn’t driven by any convoluted need to ‘find himself’, or attain some sense of inner peace; he sought adventure and it’s safe to say he found it the moment he accepted a lift on the back of Bhagwan’s pickup—as far as he could tell the exact same vehicle he was sitting in now. Last time, it had been the depths of winter, when snow and ice had blocked the road down into Kathmandu, turning a ten hour drive into a two day trial interspersed with impromptu stops to work with others traversing the pass, to clear rocks and massive hunks of ice from the narrow carriageway carved into the side of the mountains. This time, nearing the end of monsoon season, he didn’t expect it to be much safer and hoped his estimate of a one week round trip wasn’t overly optimistic, afraid to let Eleanor down for many reasons, not least that she was the champion of holding grudges. She’d yet to forgive him for breaking his leg and ‘shirking’ in the weeks preceding Adele and Tom’s wedding two years previously.
Bhagwan was coming to the end of the bit where he talked about his family and his wife, with whom he had three children: two girls and a boy. The girls were twins, aged eight, and the boy was four. Since the birth of his son, they had been unable to conceive again, much to Bhagwan’s sorrow. Andy thought it apt that ahead of them vast black clouds were forming, for he could sense where the conversation was going.
“And you, Andrew. Tell me of your beautiful wife and children.”
“I, err, I’m not married.” Andy began uneasily.
“Still enjoying the bachelor life, yes?”
“Something like that, yeah,” Andy said, relieved to be off the hook. Just to make sure, he added, “My brother has a young daughter, called Shaunna. She’s very precious.”
“How so?” Bhagwan asked. Andy was only too glad to oblige him with the information. It was raining heavily again, the lightning flashes casting the mountains in ominous black relief, the back of the truck skidding occasionally, but mostly taking the terrain confidently in its stride. If Andy were the cautious type, then he might have been a little more concerned about the dangers of tomorrow’s trip, but as with all these things, it was a challenge he’d accepted and therefore it had to be won.
They had arrived at the hotel, and he took money from his pocket, offering it to Bhagwan, who initially pushed it away, but eventually took it at Andy’s insistence. He knew that what would seem a pittance back home was significant compensation in Nepal and he wasn’t one to take advantage. Bhagwan thanked him for his generosity and stopped briefly to chat with the owner of the hotel (a distant cousin of some sort, like all the people in places like this), then left Andy to check in and find Dan. The owner of the hotel, who introduced himself as ‘Alan’, which Andy presumed to be a western name he had adopted to assist his guests, showed him to his room, indicating across the hallway to another door as they passed. Andy dumped his bag on the small bed, gave his face a quick freshen-up with a splash of cold water and went straight to Dan’s room. By now he would have the connection up and ready for the video conference and would no doubt have some comment to make about his rather late arrival.
As it turned out, Dan had nothing to say. He opened the door and pointed to his tablet, abandoned on the bed. Andy squinted at the screen.
“No connection. Bugger.”
“Yeah. Alan says the storm’s taken out the phone lines, so there’s not much we can do.”
“An interesting choice of name, I thought.” Dan didn’t comment. “Oh well. Not to worry. It wasn’t urgent, after all. We were only showing off really.” Andy watched his brother carefully, noting how pale he was. “You OK?”
“Yeah. Tired, that’s all. I hope they get it back up again soon. I could do with an early night. That 5 a.m. start is going to finish me off.”
“Bhagwan is coming back this evening, to share some of his famous hooch. It’s not bad stuff, actually.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Dan yawned and stretched, immediately wishing he hadn’t. His chest felt tight and crampy and his balance was way off. He staggered slightly and steadied himself with a knee against the bed frame. Everything ached.
“You sure you’re OK?” Andy asked again.
“I’ll be fine,” Dan frowned, “although no doubt you’d prefer it if I left tomorrow to you?”
“Not at all,” Andy said defensively. The nine months they had been working together as Jeffries and Associates had gone even better than he’d expected, their perpetual sibling rivalry rarely rearing its head. On occasion, Dan could be offhand, his response underpinned by a misconception that Andy was somehow trying to stitch him up. The truth was that he had not once and nor would he ever try and get one over on his brother. If anything it was the other way around, a case of Dan assuming of others what was true of himself. Regardless, it was apparent that he wanted to be left alone to rest, so Andy headed back to his own room for a nap and a shower, with plenty of time before Bhagwan returned for an evening of drinking and singing. It was still early afternoon, with the hum of life and the pit-pat of rain floating through the open window. In spite of the humidity, there was a cool breeze, and Andy stripped to his boxers and lay on top of the sheets, quickly drifting off. He’d asked ‘Alan’ to wake him if he wasn’t up and about by six o’clock, so could safely relax and enjoy the break from reality. Across the way, Dan was also sleeping, in fits and starts. He couldn’t get comfortable and the waves of nausea had him dashing to the toilet so frequently he felt like he was undertaking a stamina run. Eventually he found a position where the sickness wasn’t quite so severe and pulled a sheet around him.
The Harder They Fall Page 3
