Chapter 17

I was up early the following morning, my mind still full of thoughts about my own maturity. Mum followed me into the kitchen about five minutes after I got there, and got started on breakfast, I’d already started the coffee maker.

“What do you fancy, son?” she asked me.

“Just cereal and toast, I think Mum,” I replied, “I have a lot to do today.”

“All right then,” she said, “will you be in for dinner?”

Of course, being from Yorkshire, when she said dinner, she meant what most people call lunch.

“No,” I replied, “but I’ll be back for tea.”

“Going anywhere nice?” she asked.

“Just more shopping,” I replied, “I want to get some packing boxes, some snow gear, a few CDs that I want. I thought I’d have a trip to Leeds.”

“Well, all right then,” she agreed, “but you’ll never manage packing boxes on the bus and train, I’ll get those for you. B&Q down in Glasshoughton sell them.”

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, “can you get me about six each of the biggest three sizes, and a couple of smaller ones for my CD collection?

“Yes of course, are you going to take your CD player, amplifier and speakers with you?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Well then I’ll get a roll of bubble wrap as well,” she said, “no use letting the freight handlers wreck everything.”

I stood up and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thanks, Mum, you’re a star,” I said, and then sat down again just as she put a bowl, a box of Weetabix, spoon, the sugar basin and a bottle of milk on the table in front of me.

“Toast in five minutes?” she asked, and I nodded my head, “with Marmite I take it.”

“You know me too well, Mum,” I said.

“No,” she replied, “you’re just predictable.”

My sister joined us as she said that and sat opposite me at the table.

“Good morning, Pip,” I greeted her, “did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she said.

“What?” I replied, “you woke up every three hours wanting to be fed?”

“Pig,” she spat.

I just smiled at her, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Love you, Pip,” I said softly.

“There are times when I hate you,” she replied.

“Behave you two,” Mum said, as she put a plate with two bacon sandwiches in front of my sister, “hurry up and eat or you’ll be late for school.”

She put a glass of orange juice beside the plate and headed off to the bathroom to shower.

“What are you going to do today?” she asked, through a mouthful of bacon sandwich.

“I’ve got some more things to get,” I replied, “some schoolwork to do, and I need to arrange to send my stuff over to Canada. And Dad needs to arrange a house rental.”

“I can’t believe I’m not going to see you for six months,” she said.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” I replied, “my idea is that you’ll all come out for Christmas. I’ll only have three days off, plus New Year’s Day, but there’s nothing to stop you all from coming over and spending some time, and you’ll have half-term and the Easter holiday. You could come over, even if Mum and Dad can’t”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really Pip,” I replied, “it would be lovely to have you. I wish I could take you with me for the whole six months.”

“Thank you,” she said, “that’s sweet.

She walked round the table, sandwich in hand and gave me a greasy kiss on the cheek.

“You know, sometimes, I wish you weren’t my brother,” she said quietly.

“What?” I asked sharply, “Why?”

“Because if you weren’t, Cal Charlie and that American girl, Cindy is it?”

“Sandy,” I corrected.

“Sandy, wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She took her sandwich with her as she went to get ready for school.

Had my sister just been flirting with me?

I shook my head to banish that thought and concentrated instead on what I needed to do. Since it was still early, I decided on a couple of hours of schoolwork. I also needed to arrange to go into school and see the teachers who were marking my work sometime this week, but that would have to wait until after school started for the day. Then I needed to go and get some winter gear, although my research suggested that Vancouver was more wet than cold, with not much snow, Whistler was one of Canada’s main winter sports towns and there would be lots of snow there.

Once I’d got that finished, I needed to find a freight company who would ship my stuff out there, and then deliver it to me when I arrived. I knew that I was in for a busy day.

I finished my breakfast, rinsed my bowl and put everything in the dishwasher, apart from my coffee mug, which I refilled from the machine and headed up to my room, where I spent the next three hours working on a programming problem.

By the time I finished that, I was alone in the house, so, I went downstairs to the kitchen, made myself a cheese sandwich and got another mug of coffee.

Instead of returning to my room, I invaded dad’s study and used the phone in there. I rang five different shippers, and the answer I got from them all was identical. It would be simpler and cheaper just to send them by Air Cargo using the same airline that I flew with. That way they could be booked on the same flight as me. I thanked them all for their help, then rang United Airlines and made the same enquiry from them. After explaining my flight plans, the lady on the phone suggested that the best way to do it was to drop off what I wanted to send the day before my flight to Newark, then they would look after the rest, and would hold my stuff at Vancouver until I arrived. The boxes would travel on the same plane as me to Newark, then travel on by the next available flight to Vancouver, by a different route to me, since I’d be doing that leg with Air Canada.

I thanked her and promised to be in touch as soon as I knew what I’d be sending. She reminded me that as a first-class passenger, I was entitled to sixty-four kilograms of checked luggage, a carry-on bag and a laptop bag in the cabin with me, and I could buy extra bags to go in the hold, and quoted me a price.

I thanked her again and ended the call.

That had been a revelation, that I may be able to do things a lot cheaper.

I rang the school and spoke to one of the secretaries, who promised to get someone to ring me back as soon as they were available. I gave her my mobile number.

My last task for the day, since it was too late to go to Leeds shopping, was to look at car prices in Vancouver, whether it would be more cost-effective to buy a car, or rent one as we needed it. There would be a studio car every day to take us to and from the Studio, and for most things around Vancouver, it would be just as easy to get a taxi. The problem was the weekends. We wouldn’t be able to get out and about without a car of some sort. With that in mind, I went up to my room and booted my laptop, to search the internet.

I spent an hour online looking at the price of both new and used cars, then at the price of renting both for three days a week and all week. I finally decided that it was probably going to be just as cheap to buy a new car, use it for six months and then sell it on. I decided to discuss it with Dad when he got in.

I did discuss it with him, and his advice was to either lease a car for six months or, if that wasn’t possible, buy one and resell it when I came home. We discussed whether I was intending keeping Sandy on the payroll after I finished this contract and if that were the case, it could be worth storing the car after the contract for future use.

After tea that night, I spent a couple of hours watching TV with my parents, Alison was out with Geoff, and assiduously arrived home on her deadline nine-thirty.

She flounced in, kissed all three of us on the cheek, and then got herself off to bed.

“How does she do that?” Dad asked.

“Do what?” I replied.

“Every time she goes out, she walks in precisely at nine-thirty,” he answered, “how does she do that?”

“I believe,” Mum said, “that the accepted technique is to arrive home a few minutes early and wait outside the door until your curfew time.”

I gave Alison time to clear the bathroom then followed her upstairs. Once I’d finished my ablutions, I went to my room and called Sandy.

“Hi Sexy,” I said when the call was answered.

“Thank you, David, I’m flattered,” Maria replied, “but I’m fairly sure I’m too old for you.”

“Well, most people think your beautiful daughter is too old for me,” I replied, “but so long as we’re happy with it, what does anyone else’s opinion matter?”

“That’s a very mature outlook,” she said.

“Well, I’m trying to follow your advice as well,” I answered.

“My advice?”

“Yes,” I replied, “when you told me it was all right to be sixteen. I’m trying to react more like a teenager, at least some of the time.”

“That’s good,” she said, “you don’t want to end up old before your time.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t suppose I do. Now speaking of your beautiful daughter, can I speak to her?”

I put emphasis on both the of and to.

“Not unless you call her cell phone,” she replied, “she’s gone out with some of her friends from High School.”

“That’s good,” I said, “I’ll not ring and disturb her, but could you tell her I rang when she gets in?”

“Of course, I will,” she said, “but you could ring her. She’d be happy to hear from you.”

“Well then, I’ll compromise,” I replied, “I’ll text her.”

We said goodbye and we hung up. Then I texted “HAVE A NICE EVENING WITH YOUR FRIENDS. LOVE. DAVID. XXX.”

I leafed through my collection of DVDs and picked out The Graduate. I thought it was a brilliant film and loved to watch the interaction between Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft. Particularly the “Mrs Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” part. And I loved that car, the Alfa Romeo Giulia Spider. I was going to get myself one of those one day.

I must have fallen asleep watching it because I woke up at around two-thirty in the morning, cold. I was in my sleep shorts, which I’d changed into before starting the film and since the heating goes off at eleven, the house had cooled down considerably.

I switched off my TV and Video player and got into bed, switched the light off and went back to sleep.

I was late getting up the following morning, it was eight-thirty when I woke. It was a little while before I got out of bed, because of a small painful problem in the trouser area, which I had to take care of before I climbed out of bed, went and showered, then after spending five minutes drying myself, got dressed. I pulled on a pair of jeans, and a polo shirt from Cotton Traders.

When I got downstairs, I was alone in the house, so, one bowl of cornflakes and a mug of coffee later, I had had my breakfast and was ready for another day.

Today I was going to Leeds to buy winter wear. A small town like Castleford didn’t have the range of shops to be able to provide everything I’d need. I could, of course, have ordered on the internet and had things delivered, but I wanted to see what I was buying, feel the quality, check on the size. What I didn’t want to do is spend the next two or three weeks ordering, waiting for delivery and then sending things back because they were wrong. Then repeat the whole exercise. So, although things would undoubtedly be more expensive, I was willing to spend the extra to get authentic.

After an hour and a half, and six hundred pounds, I had a couple of snow jackets, two complete sets of Ski gear, and a pair of ski boots. I’d also arranged to have them delivered, and I presented my Platinum Mastercard, or rather, the company’s card.

The assistant looked at the card and then at me.

“Whose card is this?” he asked.

“What name is on it?” I replied.

“It says DJB Enterprises Ltd, David J Barker,” he answered.

“Then it’s mine,” I said.

“Do you have some sort of ID?” he asked.

I blew out a breath.

“Well, I suppose it’s a change from being asked whether I’m me,” I said softly.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t catch that.”

“You weren’t intended to,” I replied.

“I don’t have to stand here and take rudeness from you,” he spat.

“I wasn’t being rude,” I replied, “look, forget it, I’ll go and buy my stuff from somewhere else.”

I leaned over the counter, snatched my card back from him, turned and headed for the door.

That was a shop I wouldn’t be visiting again.

I eventually found what I wanted at Mountain Warehouse, and spent two hundred pounds less, they didn’t deliver, but I could pick up my goods from the Mountain warehouse shop in Glasshoughton on Friday, and there was no problem over me being a teenager in possession of a credit card. Although, to be honest, the fact that half the sales staff and some of the customers recognised me may have helped there.