Then they were off, plane surging forward along the runway with its different coloured wings. Jack cried out for a few seconds, but then decided he liked it and laughed. Sal pointed out the window and pointed out all the things that were quickly fading away beneath them, much to his amazement. Iain glanced over his row companion's laps and saw inner city Birmingham give way to farmland and country estates.
Molly spent the next hour reaffirming her love of kicking daddy in the crotch, and eventually he had no choice but to switch seats with Sally for a while. She had Molly while he had Jack. Infuriatingly, the baby went straight to sleep on Mommy, while Jack, on the other hand, was wired. Currently, he played with Itsy, a huge lifelike bird eating spider that was his best friend during the day (it was Bear during the night). Every time he shoved it in his dad's face, Iain shuddered. He did not like spiders. Or the Bachelor. God, he hated that show.
“How’s your hand, little man?” he asked his son.
“Chicken in jail. Naughty.”
“Yeah, that chicken was naughty. Sometimes you can’t rehabilitate offenders. They’re just fowl.”
As Jack was only two, the pun was lost on him, but he seemed amused enough that the focus was on him. He held out his chicken scratch proudly. “See doctor?”
Iain frowned when he saw the injury again. He could swear it wasn’t so bad when it had happened. The narrow scratch was now inflamed, red on both sides. A strange little zit had also appeared on a patch of skin nearby. “You okay, darlin’?”
Jack nodded. “Chicken hurt.”
“Yeah, it’s your chicken hurt.” He put his arm around his son and gave him a love. The heat coming off his little shoulders was concerning. Iain glanced over at Grandma, but she was lost in Sudoku, so he turned instead to look through the gap back at Sal. First, though, he made eye-contact with the older gentleman in the centre seat—“Hey!”—but eventually got his wife’s attention. Molly had woken up and was now kicking her in the crotch, which was pleasing to him, but then his mind turned back to Jack’s injury.
“You okay, honey?” asked Sal, calmer now that there was nothing for her to be in charge of until they landed in Portugal.
“Yeah, it’s just… this scratch on Jack's arm looks pretty bad.”
She sat forward, but only slightly because of the crimson-headed beast on her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I think it’s infected.”
“Already? Can you get an infection that fast?”
“I’m not sure. Let me check my medical dictionary.”
Sal rolled her eyes. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Maybe we should take him the doctors when we land.”
“Doctor make better.”
Iain turned back to smile at his son. “Yeah, the doctor will make your better, panda cheeks.”
“Chicken hurt.”
He looked back at Sal. “It obviously isn't bothering him. Maybe it’s nothing.”
Sal relaxed back into her seat, but her expression remained taut. “Keep an eye on it.”
“Roger that.”
He turned back to face front and was immediately met with the bulbous back end of Itsy against his nose. The scream he let out startled several passengers, so he decided the spider needed a nap. He pulled out his phone and loaded up some games to play with instead.
Jack grinned. “Animal game.”
Iain smiled back. “Alright, animal game it is.”
Get your copy here: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.kidsgamesprojects.zooforkids&h
Chapter 2
The plane landed on time, and when the doors opened, they were all met by that wonderful blast of heat that let you know you had arrived somewhere hotter than where you’d left. Crazy to think a mere three hours could take you from the rain and cold to the scorching heat.
Sal made sure that Jack said 'thank you' to every member of the cabin crew on his way off the plane which delighted those passengers waiting behind. Grandma had reached the bottom of the staircase, but was kind enough to wait. Together, the Wright family hustled onto another wide-bodied bus that, not being British, appeared clean and well-maintained. The trip along the tarmac to Faro airport wasn’t at all unpleasant. The late afternoon sun did a lot to improve their moods.
“We’re here,” said Sal, beaming.
“Where?” asked Iain, confused.
“Portugal.”
“Swimming pool,” said Jack.
Sal held Molly in her arms, the little girl’s hair brighter than the scorching sun above them, but she was still able to wrap a spare arm around Jack. “Yes, we will see the swimming pool later at the villa. You’re hot, sweetheart. Are you okay?”
“Yes, mommy.”
“Okay, then.”
The bus halted, and Grandma leapt off and headed into the terminal, forcing them to hurry after her. Faro was a far smaller airport than Birmingham, so the whole vibe was far more laid back. The staff here actually smiled. Back in Birmingham, Iain had witnessed an old lady drop her spectacles in front of a custom’s officer, who stood there and watched while she bent her poor back searching for them. Then he told her off for holding up the line.
Sal had the passports out again and shoved them towards a smiling woman in a booth. Iain was pretty sure the woman didn’t live there, but that’s what he told Jack who then stared at the woman confused for the next three minutes. Being from a nation of happy people, the customs officer smiled at Jack and asked him to identify himself as the young man in the passport. “What is your name, young man?”
“Jack!”
“And what are you doing in Portugal?”
“Swimming pool.”
“Ah, official swimming pool business. You may enter.”
Sal prodded Jack forward gently. “Say 'thank you.'”
“Thank you.”
The Wright family and Grandma passed through Security and headed out into Baggage Claim. It was there that Iain noticed another couple of zits on Jack’s arm, although these were nowhere near the site of the chicken scratch.
“Babe! Look at Jack’s arm.”
Jack overheard and examined his own bicep.
Sal frowned.
Iain pointed. “He has spots.”
Sal passed him Molly, the baby girl blinding him with the intensity of her amber locks, and knelt down next to Jack. She pushed up the cuff of his T-shirt sleeve and examined his arm in full. More spots revealed themselves.
Iain readjusted his grip on Molly, making her giggle. “What do you think it is?”
Sal rolled down Jack’s sleeve and stood up. “Chicken Pox.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Because there was an outbreak at his nursery last week. He must have caught it. We’re lucky because they wouldn’t have let us on the plane if we'd known.”
Iain kissed the top of Molly's bright red head. “Seriously?”
“Yes, it’s really contagious, and dangerous to infants and old people.”
He sighed. “Always with the infants and old people. Are there any illnesses that aren’t life threatening to them?”
Grandma grabbed her luggage off the carousel and started for the exit. Iain had to act fast to grab their other bags while Jack and Sally collected the pushchair from the back. It felt good to put Molly down as the little angel weighed a tonne. Once the baby was strapped in, they all took off after Grandma before they lost her all together.
They found her outside, sitting on a bench. They had hired a car, so Sal read the instructions from page 17 of her self-printed ‘travel pack’ and led them across a grey ocean of car park until they reached a small booth half a mile away. A swarm of Portuguese people set upon them, but Sal held her ground until one of them relented and produced a set of car keys. The swarthy man told them to follow.
The car allocated to them was a cross between a van and a tank, but, piling inside, they found it comfortably large. Iain wedged his hips between the two chi
ld's seats like he was pushing monkey faeces into a purse, but once settled he had more room than he expected. Grandma had her legs stretched fully in the front passenger seat.
Sal sat in the driver’s seat for a short while, staring at the dashboard. Not only would she need to get used to driving on the right-hand side, but the van-tank was also an automatic and not the manual she was used to. Sal had offered to be designated holiday driver because Iain could barely avoid crashing on British roads, let alone European ones.
Pulling onto the main road, Sal immediately veered to the left, forcing Grandma to yank the wheel back to the right. Once she joined other traffic, though, she was fine, playing follow the leader with a banged up Toyota Corolla. There was a inflatable banana poking out its rear window, but Iain decided it better not to ask questions he didn't want to know the answers to.
“How’s Jack?” Sal asked him by way of the rearview mirror.
Iain studied Jack, who had quickly entered his travelling fugue state that meant he would fall asleep at some point in the near future. It was thirty minutes from his usual bed time back in the UK, and it had been a long day. “He’s got more spots. They’re like little blisters.”
“That’s Chicken Pox,” she said. “We’ll have to book him to see a local doctor. What a wonderful start to the holiday. We won’t be able to go anywhere.”
Iain frowned. “For how long?”
“I’m not sure. A week maybe.”
Iain pulled a face. “So most the holiday. You promised you'd take me to the zoo.”
“Swimming pool,” said Jack drowsily.
“There’s a pool at the villa, honey,” Sal said. “We can spend all week swimming, I promise.” She switched her focus back to Iain. “At least it’s hot all week. Imagine if we’d booked a hotel room.”
“Yeah, that would suck. Are we nearly at the villa?”
“I think so. Grandma has the map, but it’s not making a lot of sense.”
“Hold on, I’ll sat nav it.” He took out his phone, which led to Molly making a grab for it, but he avoided her deadly sharp nails and opened Google Maps. Typing the address of the resort, he waited for the GPS to kick in. “Okay, turn left here.”
“What? I’m on the highway, Iain. The only way to go is straight or come off on the right.”
“Well, it says to go left, what do you want me to say?”
Sal turned to glare at him, steering blind for a moment. Grandma grabbed the wheel. “Did you put the right address in?”
“No, I put in Narnia. Of course I put the right address in—Oh, wait, sorry. I had it set to pedestrian mode. One sec… there! Yeah, you should just keep going straight on the highway, honey.”
“Daddy, chicken hurt.”
Iain looked away from his phone and at his son. “I know, honey. That naughty chick—Whoa!”
Sal yanked the wheel in fright and the van-tank swerved across lanes. “Iain! What’s wrong?”
Jack was smiling happily enough, but spots now covered his entire face. Little blisters that looked like the might suddenly pop, like that infected dude on the bus in the X Files. “He’s got more… pox.”
Grandma glanced back, and when she saw Jack there was a slight hint of shock on her face, but she didn’t express it. Instead, she just gazed at Jack lovingly. Jack blushed. Molly squealed. The kids loved Marmar.
“Just let me get us to the villa,” said Sal, sounding stressed. “I can’t concentrate on driving.”
Iain kept his mouth shut, glancing sidelong at his increasingly disfigured son. Chicken Pox was no big deal, right? That’s why they let kids catch it in the UK. He had it himself as a kid, and couldn't even remember it now. It was one of those conditions that looked worse than it was. Like leprosy. Or being Donald Trump.
The sat nav took them off the highway and over what seemed like a dozen mini-roundabouts. Either side of them, paradise rolled by. Golf courses merged with undulating hills and sweeping lakes. The sun was setting, which added a warm orange glow to the lush greens, and palm trees grew in an orderly fashion, never imposing, always complimenting the view. For a moment, it was enough to make Iain smile and relax. Then jack coughed and broke the serenity.
“You want some juice, dolphin lips?”
“Orange juice.”
Iain reached into the footwell and rummaged in a bag Sal had stashed there. Inside, was everything one could possible need for a toddler, including a freshly prepared juice bottle. He handed it to Jack who promptly downed the entire contents, letting out a gasp afterwards. “More orange juice.”
“I don’t have any more, darlin’, but we’ll be at the villa soon.”
“Swimming pool?”
“Yes, and the swimming pool. It’s late, though, so we might only get to look at it tonight. You can swim tomorrow.”
“In a minute?”
“No, tomorrow.”
“Later?”
“Yes, later.”
Jack nodded, satisfied that an agreement had been reached. The spots on his face were fluid-filled, but they didn’t seem to bother him. He gazed sleepily out of the window at the beautiful scenery, but only lit up if he saw a digger or workman on one the many building sites. People often cried out about the worldwide housing shortage, but the amount of open space here in the Algarve made it clear that it wasn’t an issue of landmass, other than that the rich owned too much of it. Down here on the coast, ten millionaires could provide enough ground to comfortably house a thousand people apiece.
“Okay, here it is,” said Sal, pulling off the final mini-roundabout and driving up to a barrier. A resort employee came out of a hut and approached the van-tank. Jack waved, and it was a good thing the rear windows were tinted because he might have sent the poor man running in fear. Little Jack now resembled some kind of cheery, waving alien.
Grandma spoke to the employee and procured a key and directions. Sal followed a narrow one-way system that took them in a loop around the resort. They passed by a pool hangout and some shops, but Iain tried not to get too excited, for it sounded like they would be spending the next week confined to the villa. Still, the weather would be glorious and they had their own swimming pool, so it wouldn't be all bad. His fans were eagerly awaiting his next book, but he was only human and he needed a break. It would give him time to think about how he was going to break it to his mailing list that he was planning to switch to writing hardcore erotica. Horror was his first love, but whips and butt plugs were where his heart truly lay. That one story he wrote secretly, under the name Karma Leigh… Damn!
No thinking about work, he told himself. You’re turning grey with all the strain you put yourself under. You have a wonderful wife and two beautiful children to enjoy… He looked at Jack. Well, one of my kids is still beautiful, even if she has hair hot enough to light a stove.
As if sensing his love, Molly grinned at him, her little rabbit chompers peeking out from under her top lip. There was a small amount of food on her forehead, but he had learned months ago that trying to keep her clean was a losing battle. Girl loved to eat. And when you were serious about eating, you sometimes ended up with crap on your face. You just had to own it. Thug life.
Sal steered them into a cramped carport better suited to a Smart Car than their van-tank. She turned off the engine, and for a few moments, they all sat there in silence, tired and sweaty from the journey. Then Grandma got out and headed for villa’s front door.
Iain reached forwards and squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “Thanks for getting us here. I couldn’t have done it.”
“Thank you, mommy,” said Jack, not knowing what he was saying it for, but sensing it was appropriate. The kid had got so smart lately. He'd even stopped shitting himself.
“You’re welcome,” said Sal, turning to face him with a weary smile. When she spotted Jack’s face, her mouth fell open. “Jesus.”
Iain nodded. “I know, right? He looks like pizza.”
“Let’s get him inside.”
They disembarked
and assembled on the driveway outside the villa. Grandma had taken the key, so had already let herself inside. The front door hung open, awaiting them. Iain opened Jack’s door and Sal came and unbuckled him. She pulled him out and carried him into the villa. “Can you lock the car, babe?” she shouted back over her shoulder.
“Yep, sure thing.” He took the keys out the ignition and closed all the doors, then pressed the fob to lock the vehicle. Trotting down a couple of stone steps, he entered the villa. Sal and Jack met him in the large entrance hall, but Grandma was outside, sat beside the pool. She was visible through the French doors.
Sal stroked Jack’s sweaty head as he stood beside her leg and glanced around at the giant house. When she looked at Iain, she seemed to expect something from him.
Iain shrugged. “What's up?”
“Where’s Molly?”
“Oh shit! I left her in the car. I... wait right here.”
He ran back outside before Sal had time to hurt him.
Chapter 3
After a copious amount of Google searches, and with it being two hours past Jack’s bedtime, Iain and Sal put the lad to bed. He was still fine in himself, and the images they saw online moresuggested he had the good ol' Chicken Pox. No big thing. Most kids got it, and it was better to do so young. The nursery warning had not been a hoax. They had been keeping shit real.
After Jack and Molly were both soundly asleep in adjacent rooms upstairs, the adults made themselves a cup of tea and took in the delights of the villa. The pool was unheated—something Iain was deeply unhappy about—but it was well lit and surrounded by a lovely patio. The sides of the villa sported grass, with plenty of room for Jack to stretch his legs come morning. Being house-bound for a week might not be so bad.
“Wish we had a bottle of wine,” said Sal, as they sat beside the pool. In the last hour, she had been bitten six times, and now had swollen ankles and a weird bump on her neck. Iain was staring at the wall where a pair of lizards were crawling over one another. When he heard his wife talk, he frowned.
The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling Page 80
