Colin M. Johnson's Fiction - Novels

"ONE POTATO, TWO"

by Colin M. Johnson

CHAPTER 2


      Three days later, feeling wretched from disappointment as much as her illness, Sarah sat propped up in bed, surrounded by pillows and staring gloomily out of the window as her aunt came in to see how she was.

      "I reckon they're there by now," she sighed with glistening eyes and mounting exasperation.   "Oh!   Fish-hooks and Bottoms!   Why did I have to catch glandular fever just when we're off to America?   Am I allowed to say Bugger?"

      Her aunt permitted the word just once, in view of the exceptionally provoking circumstances.

      Sarah had lain there in silent misery for a full hour, casting her troubled mind back to the time when, barely a week earlier, she and Wendy had been together in the dining room surrounded by atlases, maps and brochures, planning every minute of their fantastic holiday.

      The four of them had bought new outfits to wear in the hot Florida sunshine and equipped themselves with eight matching suitcases.   Daddy had borrowed a roof-rack for the car, ready to take their mountain of luggage to Gatwick.   Sarah had bought herself a brand new camera, and was looking forward to taking hundreds of pictures of Mickey Mouse and the Epcot Center, just like those in the brochure she still had beneath her pillow.   It was too heart-breaking now even to look at it.

      She thought of other things too that had gone annoyingly wrong, as if some evil fairy had decided they didn't deserve a holiday after all.   First there had been the poor old Ford which suddenly stopped in the middle of the road for no apparent reason.   Again Daddy had talked seriously about getting a new car, but he couldn't afford that AND the holiday - and America was already booked.

      They'd discussed getting to the airport by train instead, but decided that would have been too horrendous with eight large cases, not to mention cuddly toys, cameras, binoculars, unnecessary Sombreros and Wendy's guitar.   Mum had said it didn't seem a good idea to start a holiday getting hopelessly frustrated as they fought their way across London with all that clutter.

      Why on earth Wendy insisted on taking a guitar all the way to Florida, no-one could fathom, especially when she couldn't even play it properly?   She'd hardly impress Donald Duck with her music, that was obvious.   Normally Sarah understood her sister perfectly and they seldom had cause to disagree, but she'd told Wendy the guitar idea was sheer stupidity - only to be reminded it was no more stupid than catching glandular fever.

      It was nice though when Uncle Jim came to the rescue.   It had been a lovely smooth ride back to St. Albans and they'd seen a full moon ahead of them all the way.   Aunt Dottie was very kind too, from the moment Sarah arrived.   She served a late supper - steamed fish and parsley sauce, which Sarah was especially fond of - and she even gave her niece the luxury of a private television set in her own bedroom.

      Sarah knew her aunt and uncle were spoiling her more than usual, but she decided she might as well enjoy it while it lasted.   With no children of their own, there was much care and attention in that house waiting to be lavished on somebody, and Sarah was the lucky victim of their love.   And for the first time in her life, she had Auntie Dottie and Uncle Jim all to herself.

      She stared outside at a white vapour trail being spun out miles above the house.   She'd be seven-and-a-half on the twelfth of October, the first time she and Wendy had ever celebrated any kind of anniversary under different roofs, let alone different countries.   Throughout their lives the twins hadn't spent one day apart, which explained the special bond of mutual trust and affection they both shared.   The timing of the Disney trip had seemed to coincide so well with their half-birthday, and now Sarah had ruined it all with her idiotic glandular fever.   Of course Wendy could be relied upon to bring her back some special gift, but it wasn't the same - it could never be.

      Sarah had reached the stage of feeling very sorry for herself when Aunt Dottie came bounding into the room with a bright smile.

      "Are we in the mood for two surprises?"

      Sarah pulled herself together at once and nodded in anticipation.   Aunt Dottie was a loving person who also had to be respected.   She was a school-mistress as well as being an aunt, so Sarah always tried extra hard to please her.

      "Surprise Number One!"   Dottie held out a plate, and a large slice of particularly squishy chocolate cake which Sarah gladly accepted.

      "Mind you don't get any on my sheets," Dottie warned with a merry sparkle.   "Otherwise you might find yourself sleeping in an old potato sack."

      At the mention of potatoes, Sarah glanced over to the dressing-table.   There sat the dumpy little potato doll that Wendy had made as a get-well present the day they parted.

      "Pretend it's me," she had said, "but promise you'll stop me sprouting extra eyes and turning all mouldy and wrinkled."

      "Ready for Surprise Number Two?"   Her aunt had picked up the remote control from beside the bed, and pressed it for the VCR channel.   The colour TV sprang to life and Sarah was immediately transported across to Disney World.

      "Your Uncle spent a whole hour last night connecting this to the video downstairs, just for you.   I borrowed the tape from Mrs. Tovey next door.   She and her husband went to Florida last year, and took this with their video camera.   There's not much of a commentary - but it shows you what it was like for them when they were actually there.   Why not pretend you're there too?   Isn't that better than feeling miserable that you're not?"

      Sarah thanked her aunt and settled down with her chocolate cake to watch the jumpy film, hoping it wouldn't make her too sad.

      "Yell out when it's finished," Aunt Dottie ordered, "and I'll stop it from downstairs.   You can also look at these if you promise not to get them all chocolaty."

      Her aunt lobbed another pile of Disney brochures onto the bed as she left, though Sarah felt it was more like having salt rubbed into her wounds.   But she gave the video her undivided attention and soon became totally absorbed.

      It lasted nearly an hour - a simple, personal view of Disney World, with the sounds of open-air music and the Tovey couple chatting quietly to themselves as they wandered about.

      Afterwards, still very bitter about what she was missing, and with a good helping of chocolate cake smeared around her face, Sarah leaned back on her pillow and closed her eyes, wondering what it was like to travel through the sky in a Jumbo jet; whether it was noisy, and what there was to see from such a long way up.   She hoped her parents and sister had now arrived safely in Orlando without crashing into the sea.

      She managed a grin as she remembered one of Wendy's silly jokes from a week ago, how they would "Orlando-ver" on the other side.   Wendy was like that, always thinking up nutty remarks and quips to keep everyone amused, as though her mission in life was to entertain.

      Each morning Sarah expected to receive a postcard from America, but Uncle Jim pointed out they couldn't very well post one till they got there, and it would probably take a further week to reach England.

      "They'd do well to bring their cards back in a bundle and save the postage."

      Though Sarah understood it was expensive to phone from the other side of the Atlantic, she really did expect a call on the twelfth of October, just to say "Hallo" and to enquire how she was.   But for two weeks there was no phone call and no postcards.

      Sarah occupied her time as best she could, making clothes for her doll and reading library books about America.   And of course the ultimate luxury of a colour television in her own bedroom was a feature she'd sorely miss once she returned home to Taunton.   Uncle Jim and Aunt Dottie did have lots of expensive luxuries in their house, whereas Daddy found it a never-ending struggle to afford even necessities, like a reliable car.

      "Remember," her mother had explained many times, "your Aunt Dottie and Uncle Jim don't have two extra mouths to feed."

      Two weeks later, when she sensed the trans-Atlantic travellers were actually landing at Gatwick, Sarah remained in a state of high excitement, certain every time the phone rang that it was them calling to announce they were safely home.

      She half hoped they'd drop in and see her on the way, but St. Albans was on the wrong side of London, and she guessed they'd all be too tired anyway.   Sarah would gladly have sacrificed her TV set and her own room for the joy of seeing them again ...

      But, hour after hour, day after day, no call came.

      Uncle Jim tried phoning his brother several times a day, and kept contacting the airline to enquire about delays.   He always tried to ask if the Bradmore party were on the passenger list, but was told each time that such information wasn't available.

      Supposing they'd crashed, not in the air, but on the way home?   There was news one evening of a nasty accident on the M25, though apparently no-one was hurt.   Another more serious accident had occurred in Hampshire, involving a tanker and a luxury car of the kind Allen Bradmore would never own, not even if he won ten premium bonds.

      Jim continued phoning, but there was never any reply.   In the end, he drove to Taunton, let himself into his brother's house with a spare key, and picked up a handful of post.   But there was nothing of any significance except a get-well card from one of Sarah's friends.   Neighbours all assured him the Bradmores were still away on holiday.

      "I shouldn't worry," Dottie kept saying.   "There could be lots of reasons why they stayed a few extra weeks."

      But the three of them each knew in their hearts that something was very wrong.   It couldn't have been an air disaster though, because airliners don't crash without making headline news.

      "I expect we'll hear very soon," the kind aunt was still trying to reassure Sarah a week later.   But the truth couldn't be ignored for ever.

      Then a coloured postcard arrived, bearing an American stamp.   Dottie saw it first and gave a yelp as her hopes soared.   But it gave none of the news they so badly needed, and seemed almost to mock their concern for the missing travellers.   Deciding that even a scrap of useless information was better than none at all, Dottie carefully read out its brief message.

      "'Just a quick note to say we're all here safely and loving every minute.   The weather is beautifully warm for October.   We tried to phone today to wish you a happy seven-and-a-half, but the lines were busy and by the time they cleared, we realised it was after midnight in England.   Wish we could stay another week, but we'd miss you too much.   See you soon, love,' et cetera.   It ends with a P.S.: 'Wendy says Have a Nice Day!' That's all there is."

      The picture on the other side was of Cinderella's Castle in Disney's Magic Kingdom, a view seen countless times on television.   The card had been posted several weeks earlier, on October the 13th, and had evidently come by sea.

      Sarah stared at it in silence for several minutes.   The writing started off large, gradually getting smaller and smaller towards the last line which was almost illegible.   Her eyes filled with tears as she read it over and over, clinging tightly to her aunt's waist, unable to express her anguish in any other way.

      Later that evening Dottie discreetly took the card away and hid it behind the clock in the front room.   No-one saw any point in reading it again, so they tried to put it out of their minds.   It certainly wasn't the kind of souvenir Sarah wanted from the holiday she missed, yet at the same time she couldn't allow anyone to throw away what might be the last scrap of news she'd ever receive from the rest of her family.   She knew where the card was.   Maybe, one day, she would want to read it again.

      Sarah soon recovered from her glandular fever, but a different kind of sickness clung deep in her heart.   Parents and sisters don't just disappear from the face of the earth - yet, somehow, hers had.

      According to Uncle Jim there had been disturbing reports about riots and muggings in Miami.   Could they have all been shot?   Had they been kidnapped, or held to ransom in some squalid shack in the desert?   Had they been arrested on smuggling charges?   The cold truth, however distressing, had to make better news than the dull, aching despair of hearing nothing at all, week after week.

      A month later, all three of them were ready to accept that life was never going to be the same again.   Luckily Sarah was with people she loved, and there was no question of her having to live anywhere else.   But she became increasingly distressed every time she passed photographs of herself with her sister, and had to turn them to face the wall because it was too painful, seeing the two of them, smiling there, side by side.   If only she could find out what had gone wrong.   If they were still alive, why was there no news?

      Aunt Dottie was wonderfully kind when Sarah, in an unguarded moment, called her "Mummy" without thinking, then burst into tears.   The good aunt comforted her and assured her she could call her Mummy any time she wanted to, because she's always loved Sarah as she would her own daughter.

      And this was the role that Sarah gradually assumed.

      Though she still felt weak from her illness and had lost a lot of weight, she was now fit enough to go for long walks, and soon became a regular customer at the local village shop.

      As Christmas approached, Dottie and Jim became concerned as to how the festivities might affect Sarah, since it was a time of year when thoughts naturally turn to one's family.   So they made sure she was kept entertained with as many excitements as possible - no hardship for this once childless couple who now lavished all their latent love and attention on their one remaining niece.

      "Why was it you didn't have any children?" Sarah innocently asked her aunt one day.

      "Well, my pet, we did have a baby promised to us a long time ago, but he didn't arrive properly, so we've had to manage without.   That's why we're extra glad we've now got you here instead."

      Sarah beamed up at her Aunt Dottie and gave as much of her as she could reach a very firm hug.

      Uncle Jim decided it was time he wrote to the principal of Sarah's old school to explain her prolonged absence.   Another trip would have to be made to his brother's house too, but this was an ordeal he was not looking forward to, and undecided whether to go alone or take the others with him, he kept putting it off.

      Meanwhile Sarah started attending the local school where her aunt was now teaching.   She soon made lots of new friends, and with so many people assuming that Dottie Bradmore and her husband were Sarah Bradmore's true parents, even Sarah herself began to feel that this was so.

      As Christmas came and went, Sarah became much more light-hearted, quite enjoying the novelty of not being a twin.   It still bothered her as to what she ought to call her aunt, aside from the extra confusion of being required to address her at school as Mrs. Bradmore.   But in time, the aunt and the mother who had always looked so much alike, gradually merged into a single loved person, belonging both to the forgotten past and to the present day.

      Of course Sarah vowed she'd never forget her real parents nor her sister, but she learned to accept their absence without too much heartache.   She even got out the little get-well gift that Wendy had given her on the day they parted, a silly childish doll made from six carefully selected potatoes held together with toothpicks.   It was now looking very old and wrinkled, but it was a keepsake she would never discard.   It was perhaps the last thing Wendy ever made - all that now remained of Wendy herself.

      "I still miss them," Sarah admitted to her uncle as they stood together by the front window, gazing up at a thin white trail left by a passing airliner.   "I miss them, but I don't think I mind missing them quite so much now.   Is that good or bad?"

      Uncle Jim took her in his arms and gave her a reassuring hug.   It felt much the same as a hug from Daddy, except that her uncle never looked quite as worried as his brother used to.   As he held her close, Sarah caught sight of the Disney postcard, half-hidden behind the clock on the mantelpiece.

      "I think I'll take that postcard up to my room now," she said.

      "If you want to, my pet."

      Jim took it from its hiding place, and as he stared at its brief message again, he looked slightly puzzled, as if something he was reading didn't quite make sense.  

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