Charlotte

Going Places

I had no expectations.  

None. 

Who knows what might happen when you step into a stranger's car and she tells you she wants to go places with you. I cringed. I had literally ignored all the basic rules of 'stranger-danger' even though I was pretty sure I knew Jean. Well... indirectly, at least. 

People can change if they disappear for three years. Jean might have discovered herself amongst some of the more undesirable crowds... maybe she's a serial killer, or a haphazard, nervous wreck prone to manslaughter, or even a rapist. I gave her a quizzical look at the thought. She ignored me. I would ignore me. 

"Where are we going?" I tried for the fifth time, staring at the glare of the traffic light. 

"Places." Was the same answer she had given me five hundred yards ago, and every other chance I got to ask before that. I frowned, again.  

"You do realise that I am entitled to know my... err... our destination - you know, just to make sure you're not going to try to shoot me and harvest my organs." The car jerked to a start suddenly. I looked up to meet a very sceptical expression.  

"Funny you should ask that question." She was playing along, heaven forbid. "Just remember it when I make your jaw drop with awe." 

"I hope that's supposed to be a good thing." I teased, trying not to smile. It was hard not to. Jean just tut-tutted, steering us into a parking space on the High Street. Either I was getting off Scott-free, or she was going to make this into a public execution. 

Reading my mind, she pulled the gear-stick into park and glared up at my sheepish expression. "Too far, Andy. Too far." 

Yes, I lacked expectations, but the High Street was a surprise. It seemed too obvious - and aw, crud. I've contradicted myself! Just like that. Jean made it a point of telling me that the frown I was currently wearing was not a pretty one. I changed my expression dutifully, following her through the glass door of the local bookshop.  

Harvey's Books and Ends.  

In my personal opinion, it sounded more like a hardware store than a bookshop. That is, after all, just my opinion. However, it was a known fact that it was the epitome of uncool to have any association with this place. I trusted Jean's sense of taste when I saw the car, but now I wasn't so sure. 

"A bookshop." I deadpanned, noting the untamed piles and boxes of unpacked stock, the lack of human life, and the sickening combination of old book smell and strong wood polish. "If this is a joke, then I must have missed the punch line because I'm not laughing." 

Jean grinned, skimming through a rather weathered copy of Alice in Wonderland. "Boo-hoo for you. I was having fun." 

"Seriously?" I arched a brow, pulling the book out of her hands. I did a double take when I realised all the pages were blank. "What the...?" 

Taking the offending article out of my hands, she grabbed my arm and tugged me to the back of the store. "Follow me, silly." So I followed her. Silly me. 

"Where are we going?" 

"I think you'll like it." 

"'I think you'll like it', last time I checked, wasn't a place." Jean's grin widened. She looked so at home, and that was what bothered me. I had just followed a psychopath into her den. "Jean, seriously, I don't think I can cope with all the secrecy." 

"But that's the whole point!" She protested childishly. "It's supposed to be a secret." 

"If it's supposed to be a secret, then why am I here?"