by Eric Walters
A loud, metallic voice came from a PA system. It started to count down to the New Year. There was a huge explosion, and a roar went up from the crowd. The entire sky lit up as fireworks shot into the air. With each explosion, the crowd roared again, faces lit up. Car horns honked, noisemakers squawked and people jumped up and down, screaming. Couples hugged and kissed, and handshakes were offered all around. Glasses were raised in toasts, and people in the crowd were singing. And I was alone. I had no one to hug or even shake hands with—
“Happy New Year!” a girl yelled in my face. She grabbed me and gave me a big hug and a kiss.
“Happy New Year to you—”
She was already off, kissing the next person in the crowd. Here I was, alone in the middle of a gigantic crush of people. I shuffled sideways until I was shielded by a storefront and then pulled out my phone. I’d send a greeting to the only person I felt like sending a greeting to.
Happy New Year, bro. Hope you are bringing in the New Year in style with Laia. See you in a few days. Love, DJ
I stayed sheltered against the wall as the fireworks went on and on, bigger and brighter until there was a final explosion and the crowd went wild. Then the last burst fell from the sky and it was over. The crowd started clapping and cheering, and I joined in. It had been quite the show.
I edged forward. I wanted at least to be able to say that I’d been in Trafalgar Square at New Year’s instead of close to it. That was part of it. The other part was that I wanted to make sure Charlie was okay, that she’d made it, that she was safe.
The fireworks had stopped, but the party was continuing. The music began playing again. It was practically wall-to-wall people, and everybody was friendly and happy. More than a few people had had a little liquid happiness poured into them. I really was at a gigantic party, yet I couldn’t help but feel like the uninvited guest who didn’t know anybody.
Nelson’s Column soared up directly in front of me. I was close enough that I could see the giant lions guarding it. Off to both sides were big, beautiful, brightly lit fountains. People waded in both of them, celebrating and cheering. I couldn’t help but think of the CIA agents in the fountain at the lobby. That had been fun. Behind the fountains, in the distance, were the steps of the National Gallery. That’s where she was meeting him.
It would be good—and awful—to see them together, but at least I’d know she was safe and that she’d gotten what she wanted. Maybe I could even go up and wish them both a Happy New Year—and give him a piece of my mind. Anybody who had to question whether she was up to his “standards” didn’t deserve to be with her in the first place. I didn’t care if he was royalty. I didn’t care if he was the King of England. I’d just go up to him and—
“Hello.”
“Charlie!” She was standing right in front of me. “Didn’t you make it?”
“I made it,” she said.
That could only mean one thing. He had decided not to show. “I’m so sorry that he wasn’t there.”
“He was there.”
“But—but what happened?”
“Now you look as confused as he did,” she said. “I told him I’d made a mistake. He wasn’t the person I wanted to kiss at the stroke of midnight.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“And yes, I do mean you and not Sir Bunny. Where is he?”
“He’s safe and on his way home…but…me…you want to be with me? Why?”
“Because you took my nana to the top of a mountain and took care of her. Because you wear your grandfather’s beret. Because you saved my life. Because you couldn’t abandon an old man in a warehouse. Because I hope that you think I’m up to your standards and, most of all, because you still blush a little whenever you look at me.”
She got up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck, and the world seemed to explode in flashes. We were surrounded by paparazzi, cameras out, flashes going off.
“I think they finally got that picture they wanted,” I said.
“Not yet. Let’s give them something worth taking a picture of.”
She reached up even higher, and we kissed.
NINETEEN
JANUARY 3
I looked up at the big board announcing arrivals. My mother’s flight had just landed in Toronto, and she and Aunt Debbie would be through customs soon. The plan had always been for me to pick them up after the cruise. What they wouldn’t know was that my plane had gotten in from London an hour before their flight, and I’d just cleared customs and stashed my bag in the trunk of the car. I’d had time to send a couple of texts—one to Steve to tell him I had landed, and the other to Spencer, telling him I was back from my adventure and would be picking up his mother along with mine and driving her home. Neither had answered back yet.
Now that I was standing here in the airport, the whole last week seemed like a strange dream. Spies, guns, being kidnapped and held hostage, assorted car chases…somehow, those things all seemed more real than my time with Charlie. We’d spent the entire time on the first and second of January pushing Doris around London in a wheelchair, seeing the sights and meeting what seemed like all of her wonderful family, who were so kind to me. Except for Charles, who was still a git.
It was all pretty unbelievable. And, of course, unworkable. We lived six time zones and one big ocean apart. She was moving on with her life, and I was going on with mine. Still, we’d agreed that I’d come back—as originally planned—for a couple of weeks during the summer, along with my brother, Steve. I had to admit, I understood better now why he’d had to get back to Spain so soon.
I was looking forward to seeing my mother. I figured I’d let her settle in for a few days before I told her where I’d been and what I’d discovered. Before any of the cousins did anything, though, we all had to talk—share what we’d discovered and agree on what we were going to tell our parents. That meeting, I was looking forward to. What came after we told our parents, not so much.
The big doors slid open and my mother appeared, pulling her suitcase, pushed along with the crowd of other passengers. She waved and smiled when she saw me, and I waved back. I was so happy to see her. But where was Auntie Debbie?
I ran over and threw my arms around her. It was good to have her back safe and sound.
“How was the trip?” I asked.
“Very relaxing, for the most part.”
“Where’s Auntie Debbie?”
“Unfortunately, she got called away on business and had to leave early. And how were things with you?”
Her tone of voice worried me. “Things were good, fine, uneventful.”
“Really? If this is uneventful, I wonder what you’d consider an event.”
She handed me a newspaper. It was opened to a photo of me and Charlie in Trafalgar Square, kissing. The headline said, Our Charlie with a Colonial !
My mouth dropped open. “I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can, and you will,” she said. “But before that, I have one question. Is she a nice girl?”
“Top two,” I replied.
“Who’s the other?”
I pointed at her, and she laughed. “If you think you’re going to charm your way out of this one, well, you’re probably right. And you’re going to have to tell me everything.”
“I can tell you,” I said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean you’re going to believe me. It all began at the cottage…”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Throughout the book, I’ve embedded subtle and not-so-subtle references to some of the great mystery, spy and adventure novels I’ve read over the years. My thanks to all of those incredible writers who inspired and entertained me…see if you can find all the references.
Eric Walters began writing in 1993 as a way to entice his grade-five students into becoming more interested in reading and writing. At the end of the year, one student suggested that he try to have his story published. Since that first creation, Eric has published over eighty novels and picture books. Many
of his works have become bestsellers, and he has won over one hundred awards. Often his stories incorporate themes that reflect his background in education and social work and his commitment to humanitarian and social-justice issues. He is a tireless presenter, speaking to over 70,000 students per year in schools across the country and throughout North America. Eric has three grown children and he lives in Mississauga, Ontario, with his wife and two dogs. To find out more about Eric, visit his website at www.ericwalters.net. Sleeper is the sequel to Between Heaven and Earth, Eric’s novel in Seven (the series).
