by Judy Leigh
Tommy had already started the engine and Cassie, who had only consumed half a pint of cider and was one of the more clear-headed passengers, clambered up beside him to help him with directions. They were off to Belgium and Tommy had claimed woefully that all the signs seemed the same.
Two rows back, Maggie leaned her head on Lil’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep. Lil took out her romance novel, smoothing the photograph between the pages, and began to read. Across the aisle, Albert was resting, his eyes closed. Sue had sprawled in the seat between a calm Ken and a disgruntled Denise, hooting loudly about wonderful Bruges and how she was so looking forward to sightseeing later that afternoon. DJ, Jake and Pat were laughing and rolling around in the back seat, tipsy from the cider. Jake was teasing Pat about the two puddings he had eaten, plates full of apples stewed in Calvados with piles of whipped cream, and Pat was carrying a bottle of spirits under his arm, promising to share the apple brandy later that evening if the other lads behaved themselves.
Denise made several loud comments about how morbid the cemetery had been and how she’d like to visit some nice ancient ruins in Bruges and go on a proper sightseeing cruise. Emily was busy texting on her phone and sending photos of the local scenery. As Denise slid off her damaged shoes, DJ thumped Pat’s arm, asked everyone loudly if they could smell rancid cheese, shouting out random words for types of French cheese at the top of his voice and making exaggerated gestures. After DJ and Jake had yelled ‘Camembert’ for the third time, ‘Brie’ twice, and mooed five ‘Groooyeres’, Denise put her soiled and broken shoes back on her bare feet. She muttered the words, ‘Not very mature,’ which made the boys laugh even louder, and stared, red-faced, through the window.
Emily leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry about my friends, Denise. They can be a bit high-spirited, especially after Normandy cider.’
Jake apologised hurriedly. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Denise. I thought it was Pat’s feet. They always ming in those trainers. Pay no attention to me and DJ.’
‘We both drank too much.’ DJ shook his little locks emphatically, suddenly sober. ‘We didn’t mean to be offensive. We’re really sorry if that came across as rude.’
Denise nodded, turning away, and the boys settled down quietly with their sketch pads, having mouthed ‘Sorry’ to Emily. Lil glanced over her shoulder, pushing Maggie gently to one side, and noticed Ken was craning his neck. He was watching Cassie, who was oblivious as she was helping Tommy negotiate a busy road by pointing out the sign for Bruges. Lil frowned. Ken’s expression was, she thought, one of extreme lust. She was sure of it; she had just read about the a very similar one in her book.
An hour passed. Lil gazed around the bus. Ken had begun a monologue to anyone who might be listening about the importance of primary research when giving a talk on the two world wars and the interim years. Sue’s eyes were closed and Denise had flopped onto Ken’s shoulder. DJ was asleep now, his sketchbook in his arms, his head on Jake’s black-clad knee. Jake was snoring. Pat was slumped across Emily’s chest as she thumbed through photos on her phone. Albert hadn’t moved, mouth still open. Duncan was also on his phone but his eyelids were drooping.
Maggie had resumed her former position, asleep against Lil’s body, smiling happily, making little snorting noises through her nostrils. Lil was pressed against the window and gazed out at the scenery whizzing past. They were close to Belgium; the border wasn’t far away. She gazed at the farmlands, flat stretches of fields in various patchwork shades of green, scrubby sparsely wooded hedges, vast tree trunks with dull grey barks and leafy branches stretching like long fingers towards the clouds. Lil wriggled against Maggie until her arms were free, then she opened the book at the saved page and gaped at a photo of herself, serious-faced, staring at the camera while a cheerful soldier wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulders.
She tried to remember who had taken the photo. Was he called Sonny or Sammy or something else, Frankie’s friend? She couldn’t remember. She and Joyce, another trainee hairdresser, had double-dated with Frankie and his soldier friend at first. She remembered the warm feeling of being the one Frankie had picked; he was better looking, the kinder one; he had the nicest smile.
Lil read her book for a while, rereading the scene in which the heroine and a man she hardly knew made passionate love in a barley field. Lil marvelled at the words that were used, cheeky phrases she’d never known at seventeen, expressions her mother would have been appalled by, actions that would have had her labelled a hussy and worse in the 1950s.
She was thoughtful for a moment. Although she’d missed out on all this new liberation, and the opportunity to behave as you wished, she’d raised Cassie to be a strong woman who knew her own mind and behaved just as she liked. Cassie was perfect: she was confident, independent, kind; she was fair and positive and cheerful, and it was all down to Lil. She could be proud of that, at least.
Then Lil imagined herself and Frankie in the field of daisies, amongst the cornflowers and cowslips, the heady sweet smell of grass making her sigh. She and Frankie had cared about each other, but the meeting of their bodies had been all about innocence and blunder. She’d hardly known what was happening, then it had all been over and Frankie had promised he’d love her forever. But of course, he hadn’t loved her for much longer; before the month was up, he’d been called back home. The war had long been over but Frankie had still been in the US army, so he’d had to obey orders. Lil had been suddenly alone, fighting her own new terrifying battle. But Cassie was her treasure, her best gift from Frankie; she’d never regret that.
Her eyes were closing. The only thing she could hear was the thrum of the wheels on the road, a regular, rhythmic whirr. Cassie’s low voice, offering Tommy directions, came from the seat in front, warm and reassuring, and Lil felt herself drift off.
It was warm in the minibus, like being cocooned in a womb, the wheels throbbing like the pumping of blood in veins. Lil opened her eyes. Tommy had just shouted to everyone. He had seen a sign; it was ten kilometres to Bruges. Cassie was murmuring that the roads were becoming busier and Tommy decided that a detour down a quiet road might be the best way forward. He declared how nice it was to drive through Europe, suggesting that the area they were in was very safe for tourists. He began telling a story and Lil strained her ears to listen. The book was on her knee and Maggie was almost lying on top of it, squashing the pages. Lil eased her friend away and leaned forward to listen to Tommy.
‘I went to Cairo with Angie last year to celebrate an anniversary – our twentieth, it was. We had a great time but, do you know, I never felt safe there.’
Lil knew Cassie had shrugged although she couldn’t see much of her behind the headrest. Cassie said, ‘I’ve been to Cairo. It’s quite safe. There are security police everywhere and they do a great job. I always felt comfortable…’
‘But haggling doesn’t suit me – I like to have just one price – and Angie said…’
‘Oh, haggling’s great fun,’ Cassie protested. She glanced at the steering wheel shaking in his grasp. ‘This road is quite bumpy, Tommy. Maybe we should slow down a bit. This area is rural and there are potholes…’
‘We’re all right, Cassie.’ The minibus bounced along a rough patch of tarmac. Lil felt her teeth snap together. Tommy raised his voice over the whirr of the engine as he accelerated. ‘Angie was always looking over her shoulder in Cairo. She knew someone who was going to Sharm El-Sheikh a few years ago and their holiday was cancelled – it was in the news, do you remember?’
‘I think I remember something…’ Cassie murmured. ‘It was around 2015, some passengers on a jet…’
‘Angie never felt safe, wherever we went. You know, Cass, we were on a bus to the pyramids in Cairo and she was convinced that something would happen. All the way there, she kept on saying to me, “Tommy, what if something bad happened, what would we do?”’
‘You should holiday in Brighton,’ Cass offered. ‘Or Bruges. Perhaps Angie would feel more comfortable.’
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‘I suppose – but anywhere you go nowadays, all sorts of things can happen – air crashes, murders, bombs, explosions.’
‘I don’t think you should worry too much,’ Cassie suggested. ‘I think most places are fairly safe – you have to be very unlucky to—’
She was interrupted by a loud bang from behind that seemed to come from the back seat. The sound of the blast ricocheted through the minibus and there were several shouts and a loud scream. Another bang was followed by two more in quick succession. Tommy swerved the van to the side of the road, pulling into a muddy stretch, an open gate that led into a field.
There was another pop, then someone’s voice, Pat’s, yelling, ‘I’ve been hit! I’m covered in blood. Can anyone do first aid? Emily? My shirt is soaked – I’m injured. I might be dying.’
Everyone turned around to see Pat on the back seat slumped forward, shocked, clutching his chest, his shirt dark with a wet stain.
Maggie whirled round. ‘Lil, Pat’s been shot.’
Ken shouted, ‘Can someone fetch the first-aid box? We have an injury here, people.’
Sue yelled, ‘I’m a first aider. I’m coming. Stay where you are, my dear. Take deep breaths and try to be calm.’
Denise was on her feet. ‘I’m trained in first response. Hang on – I’m just behind you, Syoo.’
Then Emily’s clear voice came from the back seat. ‘Don’t worry, Pat – you’ll live. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re definitely not bleeding – unless, of course, your veins are full of Normandy cider.’
12
Duncan was dumbfounded and disappointed: the corks, despite being firmly wired, had blown clean off and blasted through the cardboard-box containers, frothing all over the soft-topped suitcase that had been placed on top for stability, and all over Pat in the seat just in front. Pat drank the remainder of one of the bottles there and then, Duncan proclaiming that the smell of cider was as good as any perfume – it would drive women crazy with desire. Denise was very unhappy; it was her soft-cloth suitcase that had been directly in the line of fire and the material had been soaked in a gush of airborne liquid. Tommy picked up the case and said, ‘Oh, no – whose case is this? I think the cider has soaked through.’
Denise snatched her suitcase from Tommy, worried that he was about to open it, emphatically declaring, ‘The whole minibus stinks like a brewery – and I don’t need you rifling through my underwear.’
Duncan gave Denise his best apologetic smile and promised to buy her a brand-new suitcase in Bruges, and to get everyone a drink later to make up for the smell. Denise sighed sadly and leaned back in her seat.
‘Are you okay, Denise?’ Cassie called out. ‘Is there much damage done?’
Denise pushed her soft case to her feet, her shoulders hunched. ‘Everything’s soaked.’
‘We’ll help you sort it out at the hotel,’ Cassie promised, and Lil held out her bag of chocolate triangles.
‘Have one of these,’ she called. ‘Chocolate always cheers me up.’
Denise gazed through the window. ‘No, thank you.’
It was three o’clock when the minibus crept like a scolded child into Bruges, the interior of the vehicle reeking of cider. Tommy turned into one of the backstreets just off Market Square, where Cassie told him the hotel could be found. Since entering the town, the passengers had been staring through the mud-spattered windows, their noses pressed against glass, marvelling at the beautiful buildings, Ken telling everyone that they simply had to explore the town before dinner to embrace the mediaeval architecture. Sue suggested too loudly that anything would be better than breathing in the overpowering stench of Duncan’s booze, the smell of which still clung to the air like an invisible mist. Five of his bottles had detonated, jiggled in the back of the minibus on the bumpy road and warmed by the afternoon sun to the point of explosion.
Tommy parked the minibus behind the hotel and, keen to ingratiate himself with his passengers, turned around in the driver’s seat to make an announcement.
‘Right, we’re here. The Hotel Oud Huis.’ He stared around him, scrutinising each expression, hoping for confirmation that he had done well. He was rewarded with a smile and a thumbs-up from Maggie. ‘So – we can leave our things in our rooms and then we’re at leisure until dinner at half seven. Right, everyone – we can hit Bruges.’
Denise muttered something about needing four hours in a launderette to wash all the clothes in her luggage. Duncan coughed abruptly. Tommy continued.
‘We have dinner booked in a restaurant at seven-thirty and then, at nine-thirty, we’re off to The Trappiste, an underground thirteenth-century cellar that serves great beer. And tomorrow we have the morning free to do as we wish before we leave for the farm visit.’
Ken raised his voice. ‘I’m going to the Basilica of the Holy Blood. It’s a beautiful place, apparently unmissable. The building dates from the twelfth century. It has a fascinating history I’d be glad to share, if anyone would like to accompany me.’ He glanced hopefully at Cassie, but she was gazing out at the frontage of the hotel, oblivious.
‘Well, with the rest of the time left this afternoon, my guidebook suggests you can either go to The Old Chocolate House, if you feel you need a rest – they do hot chocolate and lots of different cakes.’ Tommy glanced at Lil and Maggie. ‘Or there’s the Belfry tower with its 366 steps.’ He rolled his eyes as if he was exhausted just thinking about the idea of climbing to the top. ‘Or they do very nice chips – they call them frites here – and there’s some Belgian chocolates to be sampled before dinner – after all, we are on holiday so we can forget the waistline.’ He grinned at Pat. ‘Some of us are going to the brewery tour – that’s pre-booked at the Halve Maan brewery for four o’clock; I’ve reserved six places for those of us who like that sort of thing. Other people might want to explore the old buildings – architecture and stuff.’ He smiled at Ken and then at Sue. ‘I’m going to the brewery – it will be really interesting.’
‘Too right,’ Duncan agreed, moving from his seat with such sudden energy that Albert woke up with a start, opening his eyes wide and closing his mouth.
‘But we can talk about all this when we get inside the hotel. I’ll allocate rooms when I’ve spoken to the owner, and we’ll go from there. We’d better get a wriggle on.’ Tommy was hopeful. ‘Everyone feeling all right?’
‘Great, thanks,’ Lil replied. She caught Cassie’s eye and winked. ‘I don’t mind what I do until dinner but I’m definitely not climbing to the top of 366 steps.’
Thirteen people stood outside the brick-fronted shop with the pretty awning and a sign that advertised the best chocolate ever. Tommy shoved his hands deeply in his pockets and sighed.
‘Right, only six of us can go to the brewery. I rang them to double-check numbers.’
‘Well, I have to go, obviously. I’m the barman.’ Duncan shuffled his feet. ‘We ought to get a move on – it’s almost four o’clock.’
‘I don’t mind – I’m happy to offer my place to someone else,’ Cassie said.
Ken offered his most charming smile. ‘I’m going to the Basilica. Who’d like to come along with me?’
‘I will. It will be splendid, my dear,’ Sue hooted.
‘Me too.’ Denise was a little chirpier now Duncan had given her more than enough money for a new case and her clothes, newly rinsed, were drying in the Oud Huis laundry room, courtesy of the kind hotel owner, Rosselin, who had offered to sort it all out while Denise went out with her friends.
‘I’ll come with you too,’ Emily offered. ‘I’m not a great beer drinker – I’d rather look at architecture than the inside of a brewery, to be honest.’
‘I’m up for the beer tour.’ DJ beamed.
Lil breathed in the delicious aroma of cinnamon and chocolate. ‘I’m staying here for the hot chocolate. Maggie and Albert will stay too.’
Tommy counted on his fingers. ‘Four plus three is seven; take that away from thirteen leaves six. Perfect. We have si
x places pre-booked for the tour. You’re coming with us, Cassie.’
‘Great.’ She beamed, not noticing Ken’s disappointment.
‘Right, we’d better get going then, my group,’ Ken announced, suddenly in teacher-mode, and turned to walk away, followed by Sue, who began chatting to Emily, and Denise, who scuttled behind them.
Duncan was on his way. Tommy, Pat, DJ and Jake were already following Duncan. Cassie hugged her mother. ‘We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Are you happy to stay here?’
‘Of course – there’s chocolate,’ Maggie spluttered.
‘We might have a wander into Market Square, but we’ll be back here for half six at the latest,’ Lil promised. ‘We’ll only be a few minutes away. We won’t stray far, Cassie. You needn’t worry about us.’ She guffawed, a new idea in her mind. ‘Unless we get an offer from some Belgian Romeos.’
Albert looked a little stunned by Lil’s remark, so she pushed an arm through the crook of his and murmured, ‘We’ll all stick together and take care of each other, Albie. Come on – I’m up for a hot chocolate. What are you having, Maggie?’
‘Chocolate, of course.’ She beamed.
Cassie turned to follow the others, waving to Lil, who raised an arm and watched them disappear around a corner. Then she faced Maggie and Albert, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. ‘Right. We’ve got rid of the kids. Come on, you two – it’s fun time!’
‘Why? What are we going to do, Lil?’ Maggie’s mouth was open.
