by Mark Green
* *
If you get the chance, ring me, but try to get away from those media idiots. It’s all blowing up into a frenzy. You’ve definitely caught the public imagination, I’ve even had the paparazzi outside the house! I threw a bucket of water over them yesterday, and now they’re threatening to prosecute me for assault unless I spill the beans. It’s a screwed up world back here Angel!! Hopefully you’re well away from this madness!
Love ya
Mim
* *
KT2
“Is that word for word?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
“Oh.”
We sat there in silence.
“Jonny, I’m sorry. This was never meant to happen, I…”
“The doctor is your husband?” he said.
I nodded, ashamed, which I shouldn’t have been. That’s just life isn’t it, getting involved with the wrong person and regretting it?
I heard him take a deep breath. I wondered which way the conversation was heading and prepared myself for the questions that would inevitably follow. Instead I heard him tapping on his keyboard.
“Okay. Well, I’d best check in myself. We can catch up with our backgrounds once we’re away from here.”
His tone wasn’t sarcastic or especially annoyed, so I wasn’t sure how to gauge his reaction. Was he upset? If not, how did that make me feel? Did I need him to feel something, anything — disappointment maybe? This probably wasn’t the time or the place, but I had to know.
“Jonny, I know this is a weird time, but how do you feel about everything?”
“Like I want to escape this place and get on the bus.”
“Alone?”
“Sorry?”
“Get on a bus alone - without me?”
“No, of course not. Unless you’ve other ideas, we’re going together. When we’re on our own, we’ll talk. I’m not ducking out just yet.”
I felt him squeeze my shoulder. I wanted to reach out, but the timing wasn’t right — the story of my life.
“Okay. Check your messages and let’s get out of here,” I said, a spark of excitement growing in my stomach.
That was my first secret almost out in the open. The other one I buried deep inside.
“Oh my God.”
“What do they say?”
“Don’t know, still downloading. Only two hundred and sixty one to go!”
* *
Me
I studied the list for several minutes.
“How are we doing for time?” said KT2 eventually.
I glanced at my watch, mentally counting back from when the bus was due to leave.
“Not enough to read all these. I’m going to whizz down the list and print anything off that looks relevant. There are messages from newspapers and magazines, but also lots of other Kate Thornlys. Apparently if we get bored, I have offers to replace you. That’s nice isn’t it!”
I realised the clock was ticking and started printing off anything that looked interesting or was an e-mail address I recognised. I kept glancing at my watch, speeding up my selection process as the minutes ticked away.
There were several message titles that intrigued me, but I didn’t have time to stop and read them. In the background I heard the internet café printer whirring away. A message from Justin entitled “The Great Escape” made me chuckle as I hit print and moved on. One from Simon was titled with a not quite as encouraging “You Wanker!”
He’ll get over it.
“I’m done. Can you send this for me please,” said KT2.
“One second, almost finished.”
I ran my eyes down the last page of incoming messages, frowning as I hovered on the last but one. There were many Kate Thornly e-mail addresses that I’d discarded, but this one was distinctive. Not because of the address, but because of the message title.
I’ve left the Plumber and I want you back, it read, in bold type. I got stuck there for a moment, finding myself torn; one part of me wanted to hit delete, the other was tempted to open the message and read it right there and then.
I glanced over at KT2, wondering.
I hit print, scanned and discarded the last message then shut the computer down. I leant across and clicked on KT2’s message to Maria without even glancing at it. Normally my curiosity might have meant I sneaked a curious look, but time wasn’t on our side.
“I’ll just pay, then we’re on our way, “ I said as I hurried over to the counter to settle up and collect the wad of printed messages.
KT2
I sat there smiling to myself as I waited for Jonny and thought back over the journey so far. We were hovering on the edge of being celebrities, in the public eye. It made everything all the more exciting. I heard footsteps and stood, offering my hand which Jonny took without a word and we headed for the street.
We were probably being overly cautious, but as we planned the next stage of the trip in Bob’s house, we’d agreed to draw out as much cash as we could before leaving Cusco. This meant we wouldn’t use our bank or credit cards for as long as possible. Now we had a taste of freedom again, neither of us wanted to let anyone else into our private world. At least not until we had to, which hopefully wouldn’t be until we flew home from Rio in six and a half weeks time. By then we’d have had our adventures and they could pester us all they wanted.
Next stop after the cash machine was a supermarket for snacks and water. Then using another of Bob’s sketched maps, we walked for twenty minutes to the outskirts of Cusco to pick up the tourist bus that would take us across the border to Bolivia.
“Are you ready for the next stage of the adventure, Angel?” Jonny asked, squeezing my hand as we arrived at the bus station.
“Bring it on!” I said, taking a moment to wonder why he’d just called me Angel. It was one of the few times he’d deviated from KT2.
For some reason I wondered if Jonny would have survived this trip without wanting to strangle Kate Thornly the 1st.
Very unlikely.
I smiled to myself as I thought back to the first time I’d met him, all London arrogance and blinkered to the ways of the real world. I remember questioning how the hell he was going to manage travelling with someone who was blind.
The answer, as I was finding out, was easily.
Twenty Five
KT2
As Jonny described the stunning scenery from yet another bus ride, I wondered if he was growing tired of always having to be my eyes. He’d embraced the job without complaint, which wasn’t a compliment I could pay to the last man to stand at my side.
I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. I’d been able to bury those memories away, pretend I hadn’t been married. I hoped it wouldn’t change things between us.
I listened to Jonny’s occasional commentary. His tone was much more relaxed these days. He was comfortable with speaking out loud and nowhere near as self-conscious as he’d been at first. There was an underlying excitement in his voice whenever he saw something that surprised or humbled him. When he saw Lake Titicaca for the first time, I knew from the change in his voice that it must have been truly beautiful.
* *
Me
My burning desire to read through the printed e-mails evaporated after the first few miles on the bus. The scenery was spectacular and describing it all to KT2 focused my mind and drew me away from my thoughts of home.
I offered KT2 some water, then took a long drink myself, glancing around the compact tourist coach. It was full of travellers of varying nationalities, no sun-worshipping beach crabs here. These were adventurous types. I found myself grinning as Lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world, shimmered azure blue and green in the distance. Then a sense of sadness came over me as I watched the water. A tinge of guilt clouded my mood, mixed in with a real sense of how lucky I was. All this was out there, yet until now I’d never ventured out of my bubble-wrapped existence. I stared out of the window and instinctively began describing what I could see.
“Me too,” she said quietly.
“But I still see some of what you do, through your descriptions. You shouldn’t feel guilty or sad for that, Jonny,” she said, turning towards me.
“We have to make the most of what we have without focusing on the shortfalls. Your lack of prowess in the bedroom department for example.”
“Well you’re not so hot yourself!” I replied indignantly.
She grinned at me and I caught the odd confused look from our fellow travellers. I shrugged in their general direction, enjoying the something between us that neither of us wanted to acknowledge, just yet. Instead we left it bubbling away in the background, something to look forward to at an unspecified point in the future.
The bus journey was only four hours, broken roughly in the middle by an amazing ferry crossing over a narrow section of the lake. Everyone disembarked to join a queue, beyond which small wooden passenger boats waited to take us across the water. Not especially unusual in itself, until we saw how the minibuses and cars crossed the water. Our driver lined the empty bus up, then accelerated towards a clapped out barge with a low drop front resting on the slipway. The bus raced towards the barge, over the ramp, then at the last moment, the driver hit the brakes hard. He narrowly avoided squashing the barge skipper standing at the far end next to an outboard engine. The simple brilliance was that the inertia of the bus braking sharply nudged the barge off the slipway, allowing the skipper to spin it around and motor across the water. It was absolutely ingenious! Then I realised we might have a problem. I’d been so pre-occupied watching the bus that by the time I’d finished describing it to KT2, I suddenly became aware how rough the water was around the small passenger ferry. I glanced round the creaking wooden hull wondering if it was seaworthy.
“Jonny, I’m feeling a bit sick. I need a target,” she whispered.
“Seriously? This really isn’t the time or place…”
“Too late, I’m gonna blow!”
KT2 made to retch, forcing my heart to double its beats per minute in anticipated embarrassment. That’s when she turned to me and grinned.
“Just kidding.”
I dug her in the ribs, to the amusement of several other passengers as she squealed and tried to wriggle away.
* *
KT2
I was having such a good time on the bus journey, I hadn’t even considered whether we’d get any hassle at the border crossing into Bolivia. I’d almost forgotten Simon and his media buddies were even in the same country. So you can imagine my surprise when a car screeched to a halt beside the bus, just as we’d all stepped out to navigate border control. Then I heard Justin’s voice.
“Hey, Jonathan. Nice moves on the train.”
I froze, cursing. I felt Jonny’s grip tighten around my hand. There were snatched conversations behind us, as Simon and TV crew climbed out of the car and started setting up their equipment.
“Hello mate. Which side of the fence are you on?” said Jonny, cautiously.
“Now I know you’re both safe, I’m flying home in a couple of days. If it were me, I’d have taken the cash. But I’m a career capitalist with no sense of adventure. Good luck fella, look after her.”
Jonny released his grip on my hand for a moment to shake Justin’s hand.
“Thanks buddy. Turns out I’m getting a taste for the traveller lifestyle.”
Jonny grabbed my hand and led me away.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going, amigo?”
“Bugger off Simon, this is our trip, not yours,” Jonny said, making me grin at his rebellion.
Then he leaned forward and whispered in my ear as we walked away.
“Bare with me Angel. Say nothing, we’ll be rid of them once we’re over the border.”
“But they can follow us into Bolivia…” I whispered back, pretty much resigned to being hassled for the rest of the trip.
“No they can’t. Trust me, I’m an analyst.”
I felt him squeeze my hand and lead me away from the bus. But Simon wasn’t giving up.
“This is the end of the road guys. Talk to me, negotiate yourselves a good deal…”
I felt Jonny pause and turn.
“Simon, piss off!”
Then we were off, fast walking towards the border control.
“We have to sign out of Peru, then walk a few hundred yards to the Bolivian border. Simon and the film crew will catch up with us, but I doubt they’ll be able to come with us.”
“Why not?” I said.
“Because Angel, fortune favours the brave, lucky and downright cheeky.”
* *
Me
I glanced over to see her grinning. I just hoped the Lonely Planet guide was right, otherwise we were screwed.
“Should we run?” said KT2.
I looked back over my shoulder to see Justin wave at me. Between Justin and me, Simon and the camera crew had gathered their gear and were now chasing after us, puffing as they tried to close the gap. I think that’s when I realised just how much fitter I’d become. Those regular runs with KT2, frightening and hard though they were in the early days, had really paid off. I chuckled at Simon’s red-faced struggle to speed up.
“No, let’s just walk and hope my theory about the border crossing holds up,” I said.
As we only had our small day packs, we were the first of our coach party to arrive at the Peruvian side of the border crossing. Handing over our thirty day visas and signing out of the country was just a formality. We cleared the office as Simon and the camera crew approached the passport line.
“You can’t run anymore mate, give it up…” said Simon, fighting to get the words out between gasps of breath.
“You don’t look too good buddy, you need to get fit,” I said over my shoulder.
We reached the Bolivian border control and passed through without incident. The guidebook had mentioned the possibility of having to part with a small bribe to gain entry, but not for us.
Whilst we’d been having our documents inspected and passports stamped, the tourist bus had trundled through the border controls and now stood waiting on the Bolivian side. It was tempting to climb aboard, but the devil on my shoulder encouraged me to hold back, have my moment.
“We’ll just wait here, to say our goodbyes,” I said, watching to see if Simon and the television crew made it across the border. As we waited, the rest of the travellers gradually filtered past us and got on the bus, but still no Simon.
“What’s going on?” said KT2.
“Oh, probably just a small matter of their paperwork not being in order.”
“But they must have passports to have flown over from the UK…”
“Passports, yes…”
Finally a very red-faced Simon and an angry looking TV crew were escorted out of the Bolivian passport office and ushered back towards the Peruvian side.
“You lucky bastards!” shouted Simon.
I fished a piece of paper out from the protection of my passport, unfolded it and held it up over my head.
“Guess you guys were missing one of these?” I called out, unable to resist a cheeky wink.
Simon stood there, furious. The tele
vision crew were also seriously unimpressed and swore profusely at us.
“What’s going on?” KT2 asked.
“Our yellow fever inoculation certificates. I seem to remember it was a requirement of the original eBay advert.”
I heard her giggle.
“Why Jonathan, I seem to recall it was,” she said, both of us breaking into laughter as I led her towards the waiting bus.
Bolivia here we come!
Twenty Six
Bolivia
Me
This was the life. I forced one sleepy eye open and did a quick sweep of our surroundings, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. From our vantage point on the hillside at Hotel Cupula, the sandy bay of Copacabana and Lake Titicaca stretched out below us. Fishermen bobbed on small colourful boats, locals drifted along in 1960s pedalos and the line of ramshackle corrugated tin roof fish restaurants on the waterfront were doing a roaring trade.
I glanced across at KT2, asleep in a brightly coloured yellow, red and orange hammock next to me and I smiled. We’d decided to spend a few days here as it was so lovely. The hotel was set half way up a hill on the edge of town. Somewhere across the vast lake was the Peruvian town of Puno. Below and to left of us was the pretty town of Copacabana, with green, white, blue and terracotta walled houses and hotels. But the most captivating view was straight ahead, out over Lake Titicaca. I sighed and sank deeper into the comfy hammock, soaking up the warm sunshine. This was perfect.
Reluctantly, I returned my attention to the e-mails in my hand. The first message made my blood boil.
* *
E-Mail From: Simon Black
To: Jonathan Cork
Subject: You Wanker!
* *
Where the fuck are you?! You ARSEHOLE. Your story is now worth £250k. That’s serious cash. Don’t be a prick. CONTACT ME!
