Duty Free
A series of interconnected short stories from my 2018 collection "Degrees of Separation"
Duty Free
(July 2009)
Once upon a time she had liked airports. She had been thinking that a great deal recently, that there seemed to be a kaleidoscope of things she had enjoyed ‘once’. But airports would have been back in the days when she was travelling herself, when her experience involved walking beyond the big sign that said ‘Departure Gates’ and which, obtusely, was more about the promise of an arrival somewhere else. The sign said ‘Passengers Only’ in smaller letters; she wasn’t sure that had always been the case, but you can’t trust memory can you? Not travelling herself, she had to be satisfied with tootling around the shops on this side of security. She wasn’t sure ‘tootling’ was her style either, but it seemed expected of her these days, and if it helped them out by keeping Georgia occupied for a little while, well that was all right. Even though Georgia was less than a third her age - and at twenty-one should have been perfectly capable of managing herself - Penelope had been given the task (via one of those whispered, side-of-the-mouth requests) to take her grand-daughter off for a few minutes while they sorted out a minor issue with the number of their bags, or their weight, or something.
It was a task she immediately felt beyond her. For one thing Georgia didn’t seem to need anything, and for another the selection of retail outlets here on ‘the dull side’ of the airport left Penelope underwhelmed. She could tell Georgia wasn’t keen, but she had gone along with the proposal largely because it was, from her perspective, the lesser of two evils. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her Gran, she did - but at that moment she simply loved the idea of walking under the ‘Departure Gates’ sign a little more.
They nosed in W.H.Smith’s - which had been very busy and made Penelope a little flustered - and then through Claire’s. It was probably in there that Georgia had the idea about the bangle, having been in-part bribed to undertake the current exercise by the potential of a ‘going away present’. The present had been her grand-mother’s idea; her father had just asked her to look after his mother as he was concerned she was looking a little ‘peaky’.
It was in Accessorize that Penelope’s peakiness became a wobble, and having knocked over a small stand of purses as she reached out for support, Georgia found herself leading her gran, arms linked, to some nearby seats.
“Thank you, Dear,” Penelope said, endeavouring to rein in her breathing. “Wasn’t it warm in there! Do you think you could get me some water?”
“It’s OK, Gran,” Georgia said as the elder woman began to fumble with her bag. “Back in a tick.”
As she headed back to Smith’s, Georgia looked down the departure hall to see if her parents were anywhere handy, but failed to locate them through the mass of randomly moving heads.
Two minutes later she returned.
“Sorry it’s warm,” she said, handing the bottle over. “All the cold ones were gone.”
“Don’t worry, that’s fine Dear, thank you.”
Georgia removed the cap after Penelope had briefly struggled with it and then watched her grandmother take a sip. It was odd how older people drank straight from a bottle, demurely, as if it were the height of bad manners to do so.
“Did you see anything you liked?” Penelope asked.
“There was one in Claire’s that I wouldn’t mind taking another look at - but in a minute’s fine.” She had added the last phrase as Penelope had given every indication of rising immediately to re-enter the fray.
Penelope took another sip of water then replaced the cap on the bottle.
“I had a boy give me a bangle at an airport once,” she said in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Was that Granddad?”
“Oh no, Dear, of course not!” Penelope laughed.
“Gran!”
“What’s wrong, Dear? I used to be young once too you know. And is it so bad to have a boy buy you something?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well then. I bet you’d let that Daniel buy you something, wouldn’t you?”
“Danny?” She seemed struck by the impossibility of the idea. “I don’t think that’s quite Danny’s style, Gran.”
She didn’t mention that she and Danny were going through something of a difficult patch, a large part of her doubting she would ever see him again. She picked up the thread.
“So if it wasn’t Granddad, who was it? I’m intrigued.”
Penelope laughed softly.
“Oh there was no intrigue about it, I can assure you of that. He was just a nice young man I met once when I’d been away on my holidays. I say young man, but he was just a little bit older than me. I would have been about your age.”
“So before Granddad then?”
“Before Rupert? Possibly. Well certainly before he and I were ‘an item’, I think the phrase is. I had gone on holiday to Paris with my sister. It had been just a little risqué of us going off together, of course. My parents weren’t at all happy about it, to tell you the truth. But we were old enough. It was the Sixties after all, and just about everything was changing. A year after Paris the Beatles had their first number one record I think. Must seem like ancient history to you.”
Penelope put her hand on her granddaughter’s arm. Georgia knew this was one of her little signals; she could stop right there and they would move on, or she could tell a little more of the story.
“Was he French then?”
“No. Funnily enough he was American. Peggy and I met him as we were going around some gallery or other. He bumped into Peggy, nearly sent her flying. He was very gallant and had such a wonderful accent. Peggy made a play for him straight away, of course. In those days anything in a pair of trousers was fair game for Peggy. She never learned her lesson.”
“But he was interested in you?”
“He bought us a coffee, to make up for his clumsiness he said. It was all very romantic, sitting by the Seine, our first time outside of England, drinking with a strange American.” Penelope smiled. She was caught in one of those ‘once’ moments, but was happy to play it out for Georgia. “He asked if he could see us the next day and of course we said yes. The three of us went to the Louvre together; he seemed to know a great deal about art and history. Peggy was smitten, but she could see that he liked me better.”
A sudden blast from the airport tannoy prompting passengers for Dubai to proceed through Departures threatened to drag Georgia and Penelope from their bubble. Georgia resisted.
“What was his name?”
“Brad. Isn’t that so American?” Penelope laughed. “He lived in Wisconsin - which meant nothing to us of course - and he told us that he’d been touring Europe for a few weeks. Paris was his last stop before he went back home to take up the reins on his family farm. It sounded as if it was as big as Hampshire!”
“And the bangle?”
“Oh yes. Well, it so happened that he was due to fly back home the same day as us, so we went to the airport together. At one point Peggy excused herself to go the Ladies, and Brad suddenly presented me with this little box. Said he had been carrying it around for days. I must have gone bright red!”
“Was it nice, the bracelet?”
“Beautiful. Plain, quite simple, but very elegant. He had bought it when we were in the Louvre but neither of us had noticed. It was a pale golden colour with some little red stones inset. There was a note inside the box. I didn’t read it until I got home and was alone in my bedroom. I didn’t want to let Peggy see, of course.”
“What did the note say? Was it a love letter, Gran?”
“Love letter indeed,” Penelope laughed. “It was just his address and a little message…”
“Which said?”
“Which said: ‘Dearest Penny, I hope you will come and see me at home on the farm’. That was all.”
Georgia squeezed her grandmother’s hand.
“But that’s so romantic!”
“Wasn’t it sweet of him?”
“And did you? Go to America, I mean?”
Unscrewing the cap on her bottle, Penelope took another sip then smiled ruefully as she replaced it.
“No, Dear, I didn’t. I’ve never been to America. We got home and then, well, then your grandfather sort of happened, and that was that.”
“That’s so sad,” Georgia said.
“Is it, Dear? I’m not so sure. I’ve been very lucky really. Rupert was a wonderful man, and we had your father and your uncle Charlie - and that means we’ve got you.” She squeezed Georgia’s hand. “Would I change any of that?” She paused. “I don’t think so.”
From somewhere nearby there was a shout in a voice Georgia recognised. She looked round and saw her father heading their way. As she was about to stand up, Penelope’s hand stopped her for a moment.
“But take my advice, Dear. If ever anyone buys you a bracelet with a note inside it asking you to go to Wisconsin, then go.”
“Did you buy anything?” Georgia’s father said as he reached them.
“Only water,” said Penelope as she put out her hand for him to help her up, then turning to Georgia said “But we had a nice chat about airports, didn’t we, Dear?”
“And bracelets.”
For links on where to buy Degrees of Separation, click here.