Another Country

As Southampton came into view, I was resigned. There was nothing I could do. I would simply pack my bags and go through. Whatever arose. What I was asked I would answer. I was true to Balarubu, true to truth, there was nothing more I could do. I handed out tips to the cabin steward, and to the room service waiters and the staff at the cinema. I didn’t know how long I would have the money so I thought I should make some use of it while I had it. I had seven tips to hand out, and each was a thousand dollars, with a extra one for the steward. I made some people very happy there, which made me feel pretty good. I asked Angie if she minded if we packed the money all in my bags, so only I could get in trouble. No point giving our baby the chance to be born in jail. She was fine with that. But, she pointed out, there wasn’t much point in us packing separately if we passed though customs together. She suggested I go through first, then when she came through, she would know if I wasn’t there to get lawyers and so forth. Fine.

As we docked the ship turned into a furious flurry of activity. But there were porters on hand to deal with our bags, without a problem. Of course there were. No news spreads faster than news of a tipper. I gave them the obligatory thousand each and off we went. The porters were cleared to pass through customs, so they could take our bags straight to our transport without clumsy changeovers. Clearly they didn’t anticipate many delays. There were only two officers that we saw as we passed across the dockyard. They were chatting over a cup of tea and a crossword. We went straight through to where the taxis waited. I waved at a big people carrier. The lead porter muttered at the driver. I expected the news had gone ahead of me. ‘Here comes the emperor of tippers.’

‘London?’ I asked.

‘No trouble, sir.’

‘We’ll have to wait a few minutes for one other, travelling separately.’

‘No trouble, sir.’

I waited for ten minutes. Angie still wasn’t through. I was disappointed. What does a tip buy if not queue jumping. A porter came and tapped on the side window. He had the lowest of hangdog expressions.

‘Sorry, sir,’ he said. He handed me an envelope and turned to go. ‘She asked me not to wait for a reply.’

I tore open the envelope.

‘Sorry Micky,

I think I love you but I knew I trusted you and when I asked about the money you spun me that line about the truth and trust me or else.

Sorry but here’s or else.

Maybe I’m just running away because I can’t face leaving everything I know. I’m moving back to Nogales. Feel free to keep in touch, but we can’t be together unless I know the truth so call when you’re ready and make sure it’s not with the same sorry story.

I have a kid to take care of and love, our kid, so I took the ticket money, some travelling change, and a million dollars.

You’re the most generous and the best boy I ever dated so I know you’ll be cool with that.

Love and sorrow,

Angie.’

I folded the letter away and sat back in my seat. There was no getting through to her, back on the ship, and she’d made a decision that couldn’t have been easy. I felt myself choking up.

‘You can go now,’ I said. ‘And do you mind if we don’t talk?’

‘You’re the boss,’ he said.

‘And do you mind if I pay in dollars? I forgot to change money on board. It will be enough to cover your trouble.’

‘Whatever you say.’

I checked into a hotel for a couple of days . It was a nice hotel, nothing flash, nice and central, but it had to be an individual hotel, not part of a chain, because I didn’t have a credit card and hotels are funny about that kind of thing. I’d have to fix that. I spent a couple of days walking the streets, getting a feel back for being in England. My parents knew I was coming home soon but they didn’t know any more. I called up to confirm that, but I didn’t let any more than that out and got off the phone fast. While I was walking the streets, I stopped at a good number of bureau de change, A few hundred dollars here, a couple of thousand there. With my expensive New York clothes, and a few more I’d bought here—I was surprised to find most expensive shops took dollars without batting an eye—and my slick Queen Mary’s barber haircut, I passed for older and people changed my money as if it was perfectly normal that someone as young as me should be changing thousands of dollars. When I moved back to mum’s, I could still pop up town to change money whenever I wanted, but it wouldn’t be as convenient, so I wanted to get as much as I could in cash. I didn’t know why, I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but if I was going to have the money, and I was going to have it in England, it made sense to have at least some of it in English money.

A couple of times I saw pregnant women and I thought of Angie. I saw beautiful Latin girls and I thought of Lucia. Before I went away I had little experience with girls—no love, no crushes really, just mates who were girls. And now I’d been in love twice, and lost it twice. Been thwarted, been messed about and lost girls I loved. Both since Balarubu. I’d had intense pleasures and intense sadness since Balarubu. But I hadn’t had a lot of mediocrity. Truth and honesty seemed to bring about a kind of mad ferocity, like I couldn’t do anything by half.

There were no grey areas left. I couldn’t just leave a country, I had to be kidnapped and smuggled out on a merchant ship, or I had to smuggle my chance millions onto a luxury liner. I had hardly had a moment of simply having enough money. I’d gone from being down to too few cents to buy a Coke, to having more millions than I’d got round to counting.

But at least I hadn’t told a lie. When I first believed in Balarubu—you know it’s a funny thing but I never saw her name written down but I always knew how to spell her name and even when I think it, it has a capital—at first I thought I would get in all kind of ridiculous scrapes where I had to say one thing without saying a lie, but so that people thought I was saying something completely different. But it doesn’t happen. Life with truth isn’t like that. Because I can’t get myself into situations like that because I can’t do the misdirection. It’s just another kind of lie, and I can’t lie. I can’t even lie to myself. I just have to take things a day at a time and see how they go.

I counted the money. At least I started to. When I got past ten million and I still wasn’t half way through, it seemed pointless so I packed it all away and rented a man with a van and took it to a storage place. Then I brought it back because I didn’t have a credit card. I phoned around and all the respectable looking storage places needed credit cards, and none of the others looked like the right place for my money. I needed a credit card. I wasn’t even sure if they were legal at my age. I went into a branch of a major bank, but in the City, right in the middle of the financial district. At least there I thought they would know the rules. I opened it with a thousand pounds. I was surprised that there were no problems at all. No need for a parental signature, they opened an account for me. When I said I needed a cheque book and a card as soon as possible, they sent me away for an hour and when I came back it was ready. I asked about the credit card and they said it would be possible and I could have it by the end of the week. I decided that would be when I went back to mum’s. I was ready for it now. Right after arriving back, after being dumped by Angie, I was too emotional. I was OK now. And when I had the card, I could store the money.

As I was ready to go, I looked around the big marble foyer. Surely that would be even better.

I asked about safety deposit boxes. They gave me one of those annoying patronising adult smiles. They did, but they were not cheap. I asked what was the biggest size they did. I was surprised to find it was bigger than I needed. I worked out the right size and they were right. It wasn’t cheap. Four hundred pounds a month, more or less. But so what. Two hours later, I was back with the same man with a van: service, that’s what big tipping buys. I kept myself a hundred thousand and change in dollars, and ten thousand pounds. That should keep a sixteen year old schoolboy going for a while. As soon as I signed the forms, the banks stopped giving me the funny looks. With fees like that, now I was a creature they understood: a profitable customer. And that brought respect. The money was sorted. So there was nothing to keep me waiting around. I had van man take me back to the hotel and wait. I packed up, paid off the room and had him drive me to Manor Park railway station. Just a mile from home. That was my cut-out. I didn’t want him to link me with the funny stuff with the bags going to the bank, and know where I lived too. I grabbed a minicab and took a ride for the last five minutes of my premature year out.