Inheritance

Chapter Forty-nine. Farewells

Chapter Forty-nine 

Farewells 

John spent the heat of summer slaving in the cyanide-laced atmosphere of a cutlery firm's plating shop. In his rare spare moments, he set about organizing a final holiday with his childhood friends. Randy Ray agreed to take his car and have the wreck completely overhauled before the departure date. Frank, promised to supply all the camping gear and big Roy, the D.J., agreed to provide some camp food. John planned the itinerary.  

They were to leave on a Friday, early in the afternoon so that they could cross the Pennines and arrive on Wearside just in time for a party being organized by his pals from university. They had guaranteed loads of talent and lodging for the night. The following morning, if able, they were to attend a beer tasting at a highly recommended pub situated dockside in Sunderland. Apparently this hostelry served the best draught Newcastle Brown in the country. This had to be confirmed. Later on the Saturday, they would drive to Newcastle and board the ferry bound for Norway.

The ship was scheduled to arrive in Bergen in the early afternoon of the following day, just in time to ogle the parade of blonde pulchritude out for the customary evening walk along the waterfront. One night in Bergen, maybe more if they had some luck, and then off to Oslo following a route that crossed several fjords and mountain passes. After sampling the capital's nightlife, he thought a foray into Sweden would be in order. Rumour had it that the girls of Goteborg were gorgeous and permissive. In anticipation, he planned for a stay of several days in the city, forcing an overnight drive along the main highways back to Bergen and the returning ferry.  

The trip was a major success. The weather cooperated, the girls were beautiful, and Ray proved himself a consummate pick-up artist. Single-handedly he managed to arrange female company, sometimes for all four of them, every day of the trip. Language was no barrier. Wearside, Norway, Sweden, it made no difference.

 It all started in Sunderland when he charmed the pants off some young lady at the party. He departed, in her company, when the party was still in full swing and did not resurface until the beer tasting on the following day. Within minutes of boarding the ferry he had latched on to a stunning redhead and spent the entire crossing canoodling under a tarpaulin on the foredeck. A feat he was to repeat on the return voyage. The only thing John picked up, despite several attempts, was a horrendous rash and a raging fever that struck on the penultimate day of their trip. 

Suffering from sleep deprivation, and still running a high fever, John was glad to spend his last week in the friendly confines of his stepmother's cottage. On his second day home he was reclining in a deckchair in the back garden when a young girl dismounted from her bike at the garden gate. He didn't recognize her at first. She had to be about fourteen, bursting in to puberty and red in the face. Clumsily she opened the iron gate and came towards him, a white envelope gripped firmly in her left hand. John struggled up from the chair to greet her. 

"Rachel...," she mumbled. 

It dawned on him. It was Joan, one of Rachel's younger sisters. 

"Rachel asked me to post this to you but I didn't," she paused. "I didn't because I wanted to see you again before you leave." 

John, ignoring the tremor in her voice, snatched the envelope and ripped it open. There was a card inside- an au revoir and a photograph. A signed photograph of Rachel in her ball gown - "Please don't forget me. Love Rachel." A lump came to his throat. He turned to thank the girl. She was crying. John moved to console her. She spun on her heel, raced down the path, jumped on her bike, and with one backward glance was gone. Why was she so upset? He had hardly ever spoken to her.