4th Prize

Valerie Bowes with:

An Awfully Big Adventure

The train hisses through a countryside tan with drought. If we don’t get some decent rain soon, there’ll be a hosepipe ban.

I see Serena’s face behind mine, pasted onto the flashing field by the reflection of the glass. She shakes her head.

‘If we don’t get some rain soon, there’ll have to be a hosepipe ban,’ she says.

I smile, then glance at my watch. ‘Half an hour.’

She nods. ‘Time for a zizz.’

But I’m not tired.

She brushes the soft, colourless curls away from her eyes and begins to rummage in her bag. How did her hair go grey without my noticing? I can’t recall just when that startling red began to fade.

‘Glasses, glasses. Come out, come out, wherever you are.’ She spies the purple case with a small pounce of triumph, extracts the spectacles and perches them on the end of her nose. ‘God, it’s a complete pain in the bum when you can’t see to read without them. I’m sure they lose themselves on purpose.’

‘Well, you will cart around a bag the size of a barrage balloon. You could hide an elephant in there.’
Serena pulls a face at me. Without any surprise, I see her take out the tickets.

‘You wanted your glasses just for that? Was it worth it? You must know them off by heart,’ I tease her.

She raises an admonitory eyebrow. ‘Just checking.’

I resume looking out of the window and leave her to it, but I’m not seeing the scenery.

There never was such a misnomer as Serena Brown. From the moment she first walked into the classroom at Sandfield Junior Mixed, she lit up the utilitarian school like a searchlight. Small and skinny, with that shock of carroty hair and the energy of a fireball, she was the most un-serene thing imaginable.

And I didn’t like her.

I hated the way she bounced in her seat and her hand practically touched the ceiling whenever she knew the answer to a question. I wished desperately that I could shoot back a sharp retort, as she did, instead of finding the ideal thing to say five minutes after it was too late to say it. I envied her hands; long white fingers with filbert nails that never seemed to be a dirt magnet the way mine were.

I see her hands now, shuffling the tickets into a neat package and snapping an elastic band around them, before stowing them safely in the depths of that capacious bag. The fingers are still as slim and white, the nails still perfect. Ultramarine varnish accentuates their perfection, and she feels me looking at them.

‘Like it?’ She spreads her hand, gracious as a Balinese dancer.

‘New shade?’

She laughs. ‘Midnight Mood, or some such crap. Matches the scarf.’ She flicks the liquid silk carelessly. ‘I’ll do yours for you tonight, if you like.’

I regard my hands ruefully. Stubby and capable, the nails short, unadorned and trim. They were usually covered in ink, when we were at school. But I was an Ink Monitor and she wasn’t.

‘I don’t think it’s worth it.’

She bounces round in her seat, sharp as lemon-juice. ‘Of course it’s worth it.’

‘Come on, Serena. Blue nails suit you, but I don’t think they’re me, somehow.’

‘Never know till you’ve tried.’ She takes the scarf from her neck and throws it around mine. ‘It looks good. Brings out the colour of your eyes.’

‘We’ll see,’ I temporise, making to take it off, but she stops me.

‘Keep it. It suits you.’

I squeeze her hand, and she returns the pressure. The scarf is comforting against my skin. Sleepiness descends suddenly, but the train is slowing and it’s time to drag the luggage down from the rack.

By the time we’ve reached our hotel and sorted everything out, I’ve woken up again. I never can sleep well the first night in a strange place. I lie looking at the unfamiliar shapes the furniture makes against the walls and listening to Serena breathing in the other bed.

‘When’s the appointment?’ she asks.

’10.15, so we’ll have plenty of time to ourselves before tomorrow.’

‘You’re sure you want to do this, Jan? Really, really sure?’

I hold my breath for a moment. ‘I’m sure.’

Another round of interviews and formfilling, and we have twenty-four hours to do with as we please.

‘Remember the pool?’ Serena says, as we stroll by the river, gazing into water that flows like a ribbon beneath clear blue skies, and I am transported into the echoing steam of the white-tiled Victorian baths where the school swimming lessons were held.

I’d forgotten to remove my wristwatch and Miss Fratton sent me back to the changing-rooms to leave it with my clothes. And there I found Serena – feisty, fearless Serena, who could whup anybody in the whole school – cowering in a cubicle.

‘I never did learn to swim,’ she says now. ‘Not like you.’

‘So? I can’t climb mountains or cope with farting camels.’

I’d taken to the water like the fish I’ve spent the rest of my life studying but, to Serena, it has always been an alien environment to be feared and avoided.

I held her hands when Miss Fratton swept down on us and forced us back into the pool, and supported her face above the water as she kicked at it with terror in her eyes.

And the next morning, there was a ring at the doorbell. My mother answered it and came up to the bedroom where I was packing school-books into my satchel.

‘Janice there’s a girl downstairs, wanting to know if you’re ready.’ She tilted her head sideways. ‘She’s got ginger hair. Didn’t you tell me you didn’t like her?’

‘Oh, we’re friends now,’ I said casually, clattering down the stairs.

We drink much too much wine until we can sleep a little, but we are both awake at dawn. Serena holds my hand in the taxi across the city. It drops us outside the unassuming house by the industrial estate and the driver’s eyes flick from one to the other of us as he accepts his payment. I expect he’s made this trip many times.

More forms, more coffee, and at last we’re ready. The first drink is drunk, and the second left on the table, covered with a tissue. I see Serena try not to look at it.

I think suddenly of her lonely journey home and conscience rowels me with its spur.

‘Oh, Serena, I shouldn’t have asked you to do this, but I’m so glad you’re here.’

‘Don’t be a pillock,’ she says, hugging me tight. ‘You’d do the same for me.’

I would. No question. I just hope that Jenny and Geoff will understand, when they read the letters I’ve left for them. I think Geoff has an inkling, although I’ve said nothing. And I think he does understand, but Jenny will be shocked, aghast that her mother could do this to her and furious with Serena for helping me. Usurping her place, as I’m sure she’ll see it.

‘Friend? Some friend! How could someone who’s been your friend for a life-time connive at that?’ I can just hear her saying it, loud with rage and grief. Serena can handle her. Make allowances. I can’t think of anyone else who could.

They would have come with me, if I’d asked. Of course they would, but the thought of my children being here makes me shudder, even now. I said goodbye, as they’ll realise later, while I was able to leave them with happy memories, not this. Not this.

Not this bland, anonymous room, nor the horror of the long-drawn-out, messy leaving it would otherwise be. I can at least spare them that, but they would never be able to believe I am at peace, with my friend by my side and adventure just a few seconds away.

I pick up the glass in my blue-nailed fingers and raise it before I swallow, as though I toasted her.

‘Yearg! I wish they’d put it in some Pinot Noir.’

‘Is that it?’ Serena says. ‘All this time to think about it, and that’s all you can come up with?’

‘Well, as last words go, I reckon it’s up there with Bugger Bognor!’

And we’re giggling as though we’re not seventy but seventeen again, with life stretching out into infinity before us. I feel myself sag, and she lowers me gently onto the bed.

‘Peter pan,’ she says. ‘To die will be an awfully big adventure.’

She’s tempted fate for years. We never dreamed the adventure would be mine first. I slide the scarf from my neck to hers.

‘Thanks for the lend. I won’t need it now.’

The chrysalis begins to split, and I take the comfort of friendship with me as I fly upwards into freedom.

"It's always a thrill when you're told someone has read and enjoyed one of your stories. When this translates into a win in a well-known competition, it's even better!"
Valerie Bowes