An Ocean Apart (45 page)

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The night before the children arrived, David felt as if it were he himself who was coming to the end of term. He woke constantly during the night to glance at his alarm clock and carry out mental calculations as to how many hours were left until it was time to get up, as well as working out what point the children might have reached on their journey. At six o'clock, he decided that he was not going to be able to go back to sleep and, jumping out of bed, he showered and dressed quickly and took Dodie out for a walk down to the marina. There he killed time by standing out on the farthest walkway, watching the sun rise over the horizon beyond the eastern reaches of Fire Island, making a deal with himself that he would only turn back when its lower tip had broken clear of the far-off sand dunes.

Having shared a breakfast of three shredded wheat with Dodie, he carried out a final check of the store cupboards to make sure that he hadn't forgotten any of their favourite foodstuffs, and gave the house one last look-over to see that all the beds were ready and made up—two in the screened sun-porch and the other in the corner of the sitting-room next to the desk. He then locked up the house and headed off to the garage to fill up the Volkswagen.

Benji and Jasmine were waiting outside the front door of the house when he arrived, both holding on to the ends of an old sheet that was stretched out between them. On it was written in big black blotched letters:
WELCOME SOPHIE, CHARLIE AND HARRIT
, with a blobby insertion caret adding the omitted
E
to Harriet's name.

“We're going to hang it outside your house, so that they see it when you get there,” Benji said proudly, craning his neck over the side of the banner to admire his handiwork. “What d'ya think of it?”

“It's a work of art, Benji!” David exclaimed, standing with his head at a slant and giving it as much scrutiny as if he were admiring a van Gogh. “I reckon that that'll just make the start of their holidays.”

“C'mon, Benji,” Jasmine said. “Let's get this put away before it starts catchin' dirt.” She turned to David as she pulled the sheet into tight folds. “You wantin' a cup of coffee before you leave?”

“No, I don't think so, thanks. I'll just take my time driving into Kennedy, and I can always grab a cup there if I arrive too early. You never know with these transatlantic flights. Sometimes they arrive an hour ahead of their time.”

“When's it due? Just so's I know when to be down at the house.”

“Twelve-ten. But then they'll have to get through Immigration and pick up their luggage, so I don't think that we'll be clear of the airport much before, say, quarter past one. There shouldn't be that much traffic on the parkway at that time of the day, so I reckon we'll be back by a quarter to three.”

“Okay. We'll try gettin' there by two-thirty.” She paused and smiled at him. “You excited?”

He nodded. “And how!”

“Well, in that case, I reckon you'd better jump to it! I'll see you later—and good luck with the kids. I got all kinds of butterflies workin' away in my stomach!”

“That makes two of us, then,” he laughed, as he moved off towards the car.

As it turned out, it was just as well he had given himself so much time to get to the airport. There had been an accident on the Belt Parkway which caused a traffic jam that stretched all the way back onto the Southern State in Malverne. For an hour, he had remained in a stationary line of traffic, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and glancing at his watch, while Dodie had amused herself by growling incessantly at the bearded truck driver whose vehicle edged forward alongside.

By the time that he found the most shaded place in the parking lot nearest the terminal, it was just after a quarter past eleven. Having opened the front windows an inch or two, he pulled up the canvas top of the Volkswagen and clipped it shut, leaving Dodie to feast herself on the knob of the gear-shift, and ran across the road to the terminal building. Pushing his way through the crowds as they stood in a series of zigzagging queues leading to their respective check-in desks, he glanced up at the information screen, only to find that he was on the Departures floor. He scanned around for a sign saying “Arrivals,” eventually seeing it at the bottom of a flight of stairs twenty yards farther along the hall. Moving as fast as the thronging masses would allow, he made it to the steps and took them, two at a time, to the upper floor.

It was far less crowded than the Departures area, but nevertheless, there were already a cluster of expectant faces gathered around the chrome rail at the Customs door, watching and waiting for the first signs of their opening. The information screen indicated that the plane had just touched down, half an hour ahead of time, so he walked over to stand at one end of the barrier. Then, realizing that they still had to come through Immigration and Customs, he turned away and sought out a coffee bar. Ordering himself a black coffee and a muffin, he pulled out a bar-stool and sat down, and turned to watch for the doors to begin disgorging the passengers from Glasgow.

Twenty-five minutes and two coffees later, the doors eventually opened and the first shrieks of welcome resounded around the domelike hall. A young child was pushed under the chrome rail by encouraging parents and walked apprehensively forward to greet an old couple who struggled bravely to co-ordinate the welcome that was expected of them while still trying to keep their overladen luggage trolley on its designated course.

Thereafter, the newly arrived passengers came thick and fast through the doors, some being welcomed by friends and families and whisked off to waiting cars, while others, casting lost looks around the terminal building, traipsed unsurely away in different directions, like sheep in desperate need of a sheep-dog to nudge some order and guidance into their lives.

Charlie and Harriet appeared first through the door, both coming out in reverse as it happened, Charlie shrugging up his haversack onto his back as he yelled to Sophie to hurry up. David slid off his bar-stool and made his way slowly towards the barrier, content to remain at a distance, quenching the deprivation that he had felt over the past month by savouring those few seconds in which they were unaware of his presence. They turned, suddenly shy as they stood scanning the smiling faces gathered round the barrier, then Charlie caught sight of him, and with a loud shout of “Dad!” ducked under the rail, getting his rucksack caught up in the process, and ran towards him. David stayed where he was, watching his son approach, strangely lean and lanky compared with Benji, his tight jeans and cotton gingham shirt making him appear unaccountably British.

Charlie hit him at speed and threw his arms around his waist. “Dad! We had a great time on the plane. I was allowed to go up with the pilot and watch him fly it! They wouldn't allow me to touch anything though!”

“I'm glad to hear it!” David laughed.

David pulled him in close to his body and leaned forward to give him a kiss on the top of his head, relishing the slightly musty smell of his hair. Charlie immediately pushed himself away and ran back to collect Harriet, who still stood where he had left her, having become entirely captivated by the sight of a young girl lying screaming on the floor of the terminal, kicking out her little legs in temper at her parents' luggage trolley as they tried their ineffectual best to calm her down.

“Harriet! Quick! Here's Dad!”

Harriet immediately broke out of her dream-world and an expression of yearning agitation came over her face as she looked around for her father. Then seeing him, she broke into a run, taking the long way round the barrier. As she came towards him, David bent down and gathered her up, feeling her arms and legs clamp around his body like some deliciously formed octopus.

“Hello, darling!” He nuzzled his face deep into the mop of thick black curls and kissed the nape of her smooth soft neck. “How are you?”

Harriet lifted her head off his shoulders and looked at him, her face a mere six inches away from his own. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

She glanced back towards the door. “That little girl is behaving
so
badly.”

David laughed. “I know she is. I hope you behaved better than that on the plane.”

Harriet turned back to look at him, a grin on her face. “Of
course
I did!” Her smile slid into a frown. “Except I was frightened quite a lot.”

“Why?”

“'Cos Charlie kept saying that the plane was
bound
to blow up!”

David raised his eyebrows and began walking with her towards the Arrivals door. “Oh, yeah, that sounds like him.”

He stopped next to his son, who was leaning against the barrier, breathing on the chrome to make it fog up, then rubbing it hard with his hand to clear it.

“Where's Sophie got to, Charlie?”

“She's coming out with the stewardess. We had to have someone with us everywhere we went, 'cos they said we were too young to go by ourselves. It was really embarrassing, 'cos they put tags on us with our names. I pulled mine and Harriet's off when we landed.”

“And I wanted to keep mine,” Harriet whined.

“No, you didn't! You thought it was stupid, too. Here she is. Come on, Sophie, Dad's here!”

David moved to the side so that he could see her approach, and from the moment that she appeared around the corner, chatting animatedly to the stewardess as they helped each other with the luggage trolley, he felt a smile broaden across his face and a feeling of unbelievable pride rise up in his heart. She had changed so much, not only having grown upwards, but—well, sort of everywhere. Her long auburn hair was drawn back and gathered loosely behind her head with a clip, which seemed to accentuate the contours of her face. God, it had only been a month since he had seen her last, but it was enough for him to be aware of the metamorphosis that had taken place within her—no longer the gawky, self-conscious teenager, but a young fledgling fast breaking into womanhood. David let Harriet down onto the ground without taking his eyes off his eldest daughter, watching as she and the stewardess came round the barrier towards him, and noticing out of the side of his eye that a young boy, standing with his parents at the rail, also followed her progress with interest.

Leaving the stewardess to push the trolley the last few yards by herself, Sophie walked quickly towards her father, and just as she reached him, her face broke into a wide smile and her eyes sparkled, and in that brief, mind-shattering instance, David realized that it was as if Rachel had been re-incarnated.

“Hi, Dad,” she said quietly.

For a moment, David stood entranced, shaking his head slowly at this incredible apparition, then moved towards her and pulled her in close to him.

“My God! You look wonderful!” he said, rocking her from side to side in his arms and kissing the side of her head. “Oh, it's so lovely to see you! I really cannot begin to tell you how lovely it is to see you!”

There was a loud tutting noise from beside him, and he looked down to see Charlie eyeing the stewardess and scuffing his feet across the floor.

“C'mon, Dad, this is embarrassing. Can't we go now?”

“Okay!” David exclaimed, giving Sophie a final kiss on the cheek. “Let's grab ourselves a horse and get the hell out of Dodge!”

Thanking the stewardess for her help, he took over at the helm of the luggage trolley and steered it towards the door of the terminal, his two daughters holding on to the handle at either side of him while Charlie ran ahead.

“Is this America now, Daddy?” Harriet asked as she jogged alongside David, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Yup, this is it, darling, home of hot dogs, hamburgers and er … can't think of anything else that begins with
h.
”

“And heat!” Sophie added with almost pleasurable relief, as they left the coolness of the air-conditioned building and walked out into the throat-searing swelter of the mid-day sun.

“Yeah,” David laughed, “heat! And there's plenty of that, I can tell you!”

They walked across the road into the parking lot and made their way towards the Volkswagen. David had already given detailed descriptions of the car in his letters, and consequently both Charlie and Harriet spotted it at the same time and raced ahead, only to recoil sharply on reaching it, as Dodie suddenly jumped up at the half-open window and yapped fiercely at them.

“Is that Dodie?” Charlie asked, laughing uncertainly.

“Yup.”

“She sort of suits the car.”

“Why do you say that?”

“'Cos they both look, well, battered.”

“Well, for goodness' sakes, don't let her hear you say that! Dodie is very sensitive about her looks! I once suggested that she should consider having a fur-lift and she wouldn't speak to me for a week!”

“Really?” Harriet gasped, her mouth open as she stared at Dodie through the window.

“No, stupid!” Charlie retorted. “He's only joking!”

David unlocked the car, and pushing Dodie into the back seat, he reached over to release the catch for the front trunk.

“Can we have the top down, Dad?” Charlie asked, grabbing hold of a suitcase and dragging it round to the front of the car.

“Yeah, well, I guess we'll have to, otherwise I don't think there'll be room for all your stuff.”

“Great!”

David squeezed Harriet's haversack into the last remaining space in the trunk and carefully shut the lid. Then, unclipping the roof, he folded it down, thus releasing Dodie's aromatic wonders to the world.

“Phew!” Sophie said, wrinkling up her nose. “What a niff! Bags I don't have her on my knee!”

David grinned at her. “Yeah, I'm afraid that she does have a bit of a problem. Someone suggested that I give her garlic pills, but I think she's built up some sort of immunity to them!”