7. Le début
7
Le début
The Beginning
Omar
M y neck feels stiff from sleeping on the sofa for the last two nights. I found a nice couple to rent my room but they needed it from last Saturday and that meant I had to camp out in our living room. Not ideal, but the prospect of staying in comfy hotel rooms for the next month made it all worth it.
The train is slowly creeping towards Little Hadlow. I left my house just before five and I feel tired already, but I promised Bri – she keeps insisting that I call her by her nickname—I’d be there by six for an early start. Nothing a strong cup of coffee can’t cure.
I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get things fixed on the Beast. I’m not sure what it is, but she’s in love with that stupid car and refused to exchange it for one with better milage and in better condition. Her argument that it’s German doesn’t make up for the fact that the last owner must have done the Rally Dakar or something with it because it was in a dire state. Between me and a mechanic mate of mine though, I think we got it travel ready.
My efforts earned me a tight hug from Bri. That hug has stuck with me, its warmth lingering like a ghost. And that citrusy scent, fresh and vivid, has slipped into more than a few of my dreams these past nights. Dreams that were highly inappropriate.
“Next stop: Little Hadlow.” The automated announcement pulls me from my thoughts. I gather up my oversized duffel bag and small backpack and head to the door as the train slows down.
A thin mist hangs over the village, creating a fitting atmosphere given that it’s Halloween today. I walk the short distance to Bri’s house in the darkness. As I approach I can see Bri busy hauling a large suitcase through the front door. She places it next to the car where there are already a number of other suitcases and bags.
“What's this? You're bringing all of this?” I ask.
“No. I thought I’ll introduce all my bags to the Beast and find out who wants to come with us,” she smirks before adding, “Morning to you too.”
“Morning. And what are all these?” I point at the bags again. There’s enough luggage here for a small family.
“We are going for a month and a woman needs choices,” she giggles. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to fit all of these bags into the boot. It's a big boot, but—I guess it’s a good thing that I packed light.
It takes about fifteen minutes of playing suitcase Tetris before we got it all stowed.
“Oh, I forgot something,” Bri gasps before running back into the house. She returns with a large cooler and a see-through plastic box filled with what looks like a ton of crisps and sweets. She puts both on the backseat with a grin.
“What's a road trip without snacks?” she giggles. I just shake my head. All I need is a coffee, and pronto.
“Are we ready? What about your cat?” When I picked up the car to get it checked out she insisted on introducing me to Bella. To Bri’s delight and my dismay, the tabby cat immediately rubbed up against my legs and purred.
“Lizzie and Coop picked her up on Friday to take her up north to Amelia and Ben,” she replies with a little sadness in her voice. I feel I should say something to bring her smile back but I’m not sure what.
“Are these prawn flavoured crisps?” I ask, eyeing the snacks on the backseat.
"Yes!" She perks up instantly, as if I’ve just reminded her the world still has some magic left.
"Great, but don't get too excited," I say, grinning. "You’re not eating those in the car."
“What? Why?” She puts her hands on either side of her hips looking at me sternly like a head mistress. A sexy head mistress. Mind out of the gutter, Omar!
“Because they stink.”
“How dare you! Is it too late to ask for a different driver?” she asks with mock exasperation in her voice.
“I’m afraid so,” I chuckle.
“Fine,” she shrugs and her eyes crinkle as she holds back a laugh.
“Alright then. Let’s go,” I announce causing Bri to squeal with happiness.
“Wait, departure selfie!” She grabs my upper arm and pulls me close. There’s that citrusy smell again.
“Smile!” she demands before taking a selfie of us with the Beast in the background.
Excitement radiates off her. The closer we got to the departure date the more she bombarded me with messages about things we can do and things she wants to see. She followed each of the messages with an apology explaining that I don't need to join her on any sightseeing tours if I don’t want to… unless I want to.
A few times I wondered if there isn't anyone else for her to talk to about this trip. I know Ben and Amelia left a few weeks ago for Yorkshire, but I'm sure she's still in touch with them on a regular basis. Nevertheless, I seem to have become her go-to person to discuss our journey. I don’t really mind. Actually her enthusiasm is contagious and made me start to look forward to the adventure more and more.
I connect my phone to the car and open the satnav. We are heading to Dover first to hop on a boat to Calais. It's quite straight forward to get there but I always like to have the satnav ticking along to warn me about traffic.
“OK, right. Let me set out some rules.” Bri turns to me from the passenger seat
“You’re making the rules?” I ask.
“It's my trip. I make the rules,” Bri replies. “Rule number one: we only listen to local radio stations.”
I drop the hand that was about to press the start button for the car. “Why would that be?”
“I want to fully immerse myself in the culture of the countries we’re travelling through, and music is part of it.” It’s clear from the expression on her face that this is not up for discussion.
“OK, fine. But you do realise that the majority of the songs they listen to will be similar to the UK?” There’s no escaping Swift and others, regardless of where you go in Europe.
“Rule number two…” She completely ignores my counterargument. “… we have to have a comfort break every two hours. I need snacks on a regular basis. And I’ve a bladder the size of a pea.”
Now that’s a rule I won’t argue with. “Works for me. I need coffee.” Bri nods before holding up three fingers.
“Rule number three. I need to be near Wi-Fi every evening at four on the dot.”
I study her and wait for more details.
“Why exactly?” I ask when she doesn’t elaborate.
“Because I've arranged with Amelia that I’ll call Bella.”
“You're calling your cat?”
“Yes. Why is that crazy?”
“Because it's a cat. What are you going to tell her? She's not going to know what’s happening. Are you expecting her to report back about her day as well?” Maybe I shouldn’t mock her, but this is a bit silly.
“Don't be stupid,” Bri mumbles embarrassed and blushes. “I just want to see her.”
“Every day.”
“Every day.”
“OK, your trip, your rules. What if there’s no Wi-Fi?”
“There has to be Wi-Fi. Every petrol station has got Wi-Fi nowadays. Four o’clock, cat talk.”
“Four o’clock, cat talk,” I repeat and finally press the start button.
“Rule number four…” Bri continues. Apparently we’re not done with the rules. “… you tell me when you’re tired and we stop. No questions asked.”
“Happy with that but I can usually go for quite a long time.”
“That’s what he said,” Bri giggles.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. And rule number five... I can't think of a rule number five. Well, actually, I do know a fifth rule. No farting in the car.”
I laugh out loud. I can't help myself.
“You do realise I'm doing a job here? I know how to behave professionally.” I side-eye her. There’s a smug grin on her face. She’s teasing me, the little minx.
“Well, I'm just putting it out there. Don't get too comfortable, Mister.”
What have I let myself in for? I indicate to join the road towards Dover. Traffic is light, which I take as a good omen for the start of our trip.
“OK. Do you have any rules aside from banning prawn cocktail crisps?” Bri asks.
“I thought your trip, your rules?”
“Well, you might have something you’d like me to do.” For a split second, my mind wanders somewhere wildly inappropriate. Fuck .
“OK, rule number one: if you feel queasy or travel sick please tell me. I can stop at any time. I prefer that to having to clean the car.” I glance at her and she’s nodding.
“I can agree to that.”
“That's the only rule I have.” Really, I’m quite easy going.
“Well that's an easy one, I would have done that anyway. Liking that outfit, by the way.” Her voice is laced with humour.
“You asked me not to wear a suit,” I protest. To be honest, I’m quite glad that she made that request. Wearing a suit from morning to evening would have made for a long month. Instead, I’m in jeans and a T-Shirt.
“I know. I was just complementing you.” She smirks with a mischievous look in her eyes that I can’t read “Our ferry reservation is for eight thirty. We should make that, right?” she asks when I don’t reply.
Bri hasn't really prebooked much. So far, she’s only reserved the boat to Calais and the hotel in Milan for two nights, as we know when we’ll get there. From then onwards we’ll take it day-by-day to allow us to stay in some places longer if she loves it there or leave others sooner if we run out of things to see.
I've spoken with my cousin Khalid in Vendeuvre-sur-Barse and we can stay at his. He's got a large farm on the outskirts of the village and plenty of space for guests. Bri fought me at first because she felt she was imposing, but she doesn't know my family. Welcoming guests is in our Lebanese blood. You arrive as a stranger but you leave as an adopted member of the family.
The journey to Dover was quick because this time of the year there aren't that many people travelling down South. Bri just stared out the window with a happy smile on her face, singing along to the radio. She's got a beautiful voice, I’ve to give her that.
Once we've crossed the channel, she started a new game of making me pronounce the name of every city and village on the motorway signs.
When she wasn’t testing my French, she was either pointing out all the little things she spotted that are different from home or scanning through the radio channels until she found one with French pop music. Her head bobbed along and she mouthed some sounds, even if she couldn’t pronounce the words or understand what they actually meant.
I’m mesmerized by her. She is showing the joy of a young teenager exploring the world for the first time. And it makes me wonder why she’s never done this kind of travelling before.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you and your husband never take a trip abroad?” In one of our meetings about the trip she let it slip that she's divorced.
“Why do you ask?” She doesn’t seem to be offended by my question, just curious.
“You take it all in, like every little thing matters, even if all we've seen so far are just endless French fields.”
“My husband preferred tradition and continuity. Every year we’d fly to the same holiday resort in Benidorm. But the last time we went the hotel had closed down and he had a major meltdown. We ended up at a different place and he spent two weeks complaining about how everything was worse than at the other hotel. Don’t get me wrong, Benidorm is alright, but I’ve always wanted to go on a cultural trip. I wanted to study art history; I’ve always been interested in art. I dreamed of going to Rome, Paris, and Vienna to see beautiful works of great artists. But my husband wasn’t into that, and with two little children the last thing you want to do is drag them through museums while they scream and shout. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
“I get that.”
“But now I've got a chance to see it all!”
“Yes, you do,” I agree, noticing the big smile on her face. I can't help feeling sad that she missed out on her dreams before, but I'm happy I can help her fulfil them now. I’ve never held back for anyone. I’ve always done what I wanted, explored the world, and saw the places I wanted to see. I don't know what it's like to put your wishes behind someone else's, and I admire her for that. I promise myself I’ll make sure this trip is everything she hopes for.
Today's drive is rather mundane. The French countryside here isn’t exactly thrilling. Just endless green fields stretching on and on, broken up now and then by a sleepy little village. The motorway feels deserted, with hardly a lorry in sight. Most of the freight traffic sticks to routes through Brussels and Germany to dodge the tolls, so we’re making steady progress without any trouble.
We’ve stopped twice so far to stretch our legs and grab a coffee for me and more snacks for Bri. I don't know where she puts them all. She’s been munching on bits from her box throughout the journey and every time we stop she orders herself another croissant. I can't help but smile when she declares the most recent one the best one so far, just as she did with the previous one.
Bri holds out her bag of snacks to me and this time I can't resist. I take one of the sweets and slip it into my mouth.
“Thank God, I thought you're a non-snacker… one of these health freaks,” she laughs.
“I do try to eat healthy,” I reply. “But you found my Achilles heel.” I point at the bag of Colin the Caterpillar sweets.
“Good to know,” she smiles. “So, tell me, what are you going to do once you get your degree?”
“I was thinking of getting a job with the Foreign Office or something. I've applied for a few jobs but they all need me to have my degree confirmed first. So, I'm waiting it out.”
“Sounds interesting. And with your languages you should have an advantage,” she says before stuffing another sweet in her mouth.
“True. However, I’m also considering working for a charity. Sometimes I wonder if that's the better way to go. Governments are driven by politics, not necessarily by what is right or fair. And I wonder if a charity would just suit me better.” Truth be told, I’m feeling quite uneasy at the moment about working for the government because there are many things about current policy that I don’t agree with and that’s not going to be beneficial for a career at the Foreign Office.
“That makes sense. You should speak to Amelia. She worked for a charity.”
I don’t reply. I’m suddenly aware that we’re only a few hours into the trip and it already feels nothing like a professional relationship. Bri, with her bubbly persona and relaxed attitude, has made me feel like a friend. Yes, this feels more like two friends on a trip together. And I like that. I like that a lot and that worries me a little. I’ve been hired for a job here; Ben trusts me. I mustn’t lose sight of that.