Chapter 15

When I walked back into the flat the three of them were seated in the living room, still drinking coffee, I bypassed them and walked into the bedroom, where I sat on the edge of the bed, still fuming. I’d hardly sat down when there was a tap on the door, and Maria walked in.

“David,” she said softly, “I know you’re upset, but please, for Sandy, come back and join us, I think Detective Spontini has some information that may make you a little happier.”

I looked at her and she smiled and squeezed my hand.

“Come on,” she said, “sometimes it’s fine to be a sixteen-year-old.”

I was puzzled by her words and walked out of the room trying to decide what she meant.

I took a seat with Sandy on the sofa, and she reached out with her good hand and took mine.

“Mr Barker, David,” Spontini began, “I am sorry, I explained the situation clumsily earlier. I didn’t take into account that you don’t know how the US justice system works. You see the defendants are facing multiple charges, including rape and violent assault. The one who had made the plea bargain has done it in exchange for not being charged with rape. He will still stand trial for Assault and a couple of other minor charges, and the court will take into account his co-operation when sentencing, but he will still go to jail for a considerable time.”

“Ah,” I said, “I’m sorry, I should have stayed and listened.”

“No, Mr Barker, your reaction was perfectly understandable,” he replied, “no apology necessary.”

After he left, Sandy squeezed my hand tight.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” I asked.

“For caring enough about me to get angry,” she answered and followed up with a long kiss.

That evening I packed, such as it was. Given that I’d be back in a couple of weeks, both Sandy and Maria suggested that I didn’t need to take all my clothes back with me. All I had to pack were a few T-shirts I’d picked up as gifts for the family, my laptop and a book, all of those fit nicely into my carry-on bag. Within half an hour I was packed and ready for the next day and my flight home.

As Sandy and I got into bed that night, she kissed me and then handed me a small foil packet.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Surer than I’ve ever been in my life,” she replied, “but tonight you’re going to need that, sorry, but it would be a risk, only a small one I know, but still a risk without.”

So, after fifteen minutes of foreplay, during which she had three orgasms, she rolled the condom onto me, and we put it to use. In fact, we put four of them to use before the following dawn.

I was flying out of Newark just after seven the next day and we spent the next morning and early afternoon on a round Manhattan cruise, which included lunch and a running commentary on the sights we saw, followed by a quick trip home for me to shower, change and pick up my bag, then around four o’clock we set off for the airport. After I checked in, we grabbed a coffee in one of the coffee shops, before I had to go through security. Maria gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and Sandy took her time saying goodbye, finishing with a warning to hurry back and not to get involved with any of ‘those cute English roses’ while I was away.

We pushed back half an hour late, thanks to some late-arriving passengers, presumably they’d been delayed in the bar.

As the plane climbed into the sky, my thoughts went back to the previous day, and to one thing in particular that Maria had said, “it’s all right to be sixteen.”

I pondered on that for a while, coming to the conclusion that what she meant was, I didn’t have to try so hard to be an adult, to be so mature. That led me to think about how I saw things and how I reacted to them. I realised that I had a habit of over-analysing, over-planning, when most sixteen-year-olds, especially us males, would just go with a gut feeling. It was something I needed to think about. Or maybe, it was something I just needed to change.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tug on my sleeve. I glanced around to find that my seat companion was tugging on my sleeve.

I turned towards the window and saw a young girl, about my age, cute, is a couple of pounds overweight, with red hair and freckles.

“Hi,” she said, “could I ask you a favour?”

I was expecting the usual ‘could I have your autograph?’ but instead she smiled and asked, “could we swap seats?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, “if you want to. Can I ask why? I assumed you’d asked for the window seat?”

“No,” she said, “this and the two across the aisle were the only ones left when we checked in. So Mom and Dad got those, and I got this.”

“Right then,” I said, “let’s do it.”

I unbuckled my belt, and stood up, she did the same and I slid into the window seat. Then she took my vacated aisle seat, and I buckled in again, just as the seat belt sign came on again.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Tony, your First Officer speaking,” the Public Address announced, “there’s a little bit of turbulence just ahead of us, so as a precaution we’ve turned on the seat belts sign. Please return to your seats and buckle up and we apologise for any inconvenience and discomfort caused. We’ll get the sign back off just as soon as we can.”

“I hope it’s not too rough,” I said, “I’ve been lucky so far, the only turbulence I’ve ever flown through was just a little bit of mild shaking.”

“I’ve never flown before,” she replied, “so I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” I reassured her, “it might be a little uncomfortable, but we won’t come to any harm.”

As I said, the plane gave a little shudder.

“See,” I said, “that’s probably as bad as we’ll get.”

As I looked at her, I could see she was frightened.

I excused myself and walked across the aisle to speak to her family.

“Excuse me,” I said, “I’m sat over there next to your daughter, and she seems quite fearful about the turbulence. I’d be happy to swap places with you if you feel that one of you would be better sitting with her.”

“Why thank you, young man,” the mother replied, “that’s very thoughtful of you, but, to be honest, I don’t think that would make any difference.”

She smiled at me.

“And besides, I have a feeling that once she realises who she’s sat next to, she may feel a little better,” she continued.

“Is she a fan?” I asked.

“She’s one of Greg’s Girls,” she replied.

I sighed.

“I’ve got a feeling that he is going to haunt me for the rest of my life,” I said.

“C’est la vie,” she replied.

I thanked her and walked back to my seat.

As I sat down beside her the girl turned to me and introduced herself as Karla with a K.

“Hi,” I replied to her, “I’m David.”

“Is it all right if I hold your hand when it gets bumpy?” she asked, “what were you talking to my parents about?”

“Yes, it is,” I replied, “and I was asking if one of them wanted to swap places with me.”

“Why?” she asked, “you’re cute, they aren’t.”

She looked at me for a long moment.

“Hey,” she said, “has anybody ever told you that you look like G...”

I stopped her.

“If you say Greg Paradise, I’ll put you over my knee and spank you, even if your parents are watching.”

I glanced over at her parents, and they must have heard because her father smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

“But you look just like him,” she complained.

“So, I’m told,” I said, “but that’s just fancy make-up. I’m a lot more handsome.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, “David J. Barker, he’s the actor who plays him.”

“I know that,” I interrupted.

“He’s the most handsome young man on the planet.”

“Well, thank you,” I said, “it’s very kind of you to say that.”

“No, not you, him,” she responded, then blushed bright pink.

“Oh,” she said quietly, “you are him, aren’t you?”

I just nodded and smiled.

She slapped her forehead.

“What an idiot,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I replied, “I’m sorry for teasing you. Here, have you got your GG membership card on you?”

“Yes,” she replied, and pulled out her purse from the small bag under the seat, “here.”

She handed me the card. I turned it over and, with the pen I always carried for such purposes, autographed the back of it, then in my own notebook made a note of her name and membership number.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking your name and number?” I replied.

“Why?” she asked.

“So that when I get home, I can change your membership status,” I said, “you’re now a life member.”

“Oh, wow,” she gasped, “thank you.”

Then she kissed me, not on the cheek, which caused her father to cough from across the aisle. But, when I glanced his way, he was smiling.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed silently at me.

The turbulence lasted for about half an hour, as a result, it was gone nine, New York time, when they started dinner service, although fortunately the sixteen of us in the cabin were served much quicker, and with better food than those back in cattle class.

Dinner was melon balls, followed by a choice of roast beef or chicken breast with vegetables I chose the chicken, I’d made the mistake of ordering beef on an aeroplane before, followed by Crème Brûlée and coffee.

After the cabin staff had cleared away, Karla took the personal monitor from the seat arm and looked through the entertainment on offer.

“Oh, yes,” she said quietly, “that one. Will you watch it with me?”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Star Academy, of course,” she replied, “what else with the star of it sat next to me?”

“Actually,” I said, with a groan “I’m not the star, I’m just the ‘and introducing.’ Not only that, but I hate watching myself.”

“Oh, please,” she whined, “I’d love to be able to tell the girls at school that I watched it with you.”

“Would they believe you?” I asked.

“They would if I had a picture of us together as well.”

“All right,” I agreed, “but I reserve the right to fall asleep from boredom.”

She started the film, and we held the screen on the seat arm between us, with our two pairs of headphones plugged into it.

We’d both reclined our seats as far as they’d go and had our pillows under our heads. The cabin crews had turned off the lights and the cabin was in darkness except for the occasional reading lamp over someone’s seat.

I didn’t last very long, and when I woke up, sometime later, the screen was still on, although the film had finished and Karla’s head was on my shoulder, she was snoring gently and we were covered by two blankets, spread out to cover both of us. The more worrying thing was that her hand was resting lightly on my crotch, while my left hand was cupping a small firm breast, albeit through her t-shirt.

I tried to get out to go to the toilet without disturbing her but failed.

“Where you going?” she mumbled, half-asleep.

“Toilet,” I replied.

“That’s all right, I want to go too,” she said and extricated herself from the blankets before standing up and letting me go first.

“You’ll be quicker than me,” she said, reaching down and picking up her bag from under the seat.

We both walked to the front of the cabin, where just after the front entry door, the first-class toilet was situated, there was just one cabin attendant on duty in the galley opposite.