Once upon a long time after The Jump

Chapter 6

When Sam and Betsy rushed into the restaurant, they first did not see any of the two people they frantically were searching for and for a moment hoped they were the first to arrive after all. Then Sam recognised the back of a tall man standing by the bar, by the looks of it waiting for something the barman was preparing.

He strode over and put his hand on the man's arm.

"Dad, I don't think now is a good time to drink."

"That would be £2", the barman interrupted and with a thud placed a bottle of mineral water and a glass on the counter.

"I'm not, though God knows I could need it", said Charles James. "Molly was here."

"I know."

"You know?!" Charles looked at his son in disbelief, trying to puzzle the pieces of information together.

Standing a few metres away, Betsy's eyes darted between the two men. Their looks were almost identical except for the age difference of twentyish years, which to Charles added some definition which was still lacking in the more boyish Sam. There were a few lines to his face and streaks of silver by the temples of the still thick and otherwise dark hair, but he was far from the old man she had imagined and must have become a father at a young age. He clearly belonged to the category of men, who like George Clooney and Sean Connery, stay attractive or look even better when they age.

She did not remember him from Afghanistan, but truth was she did not remember the faces of any of the male soldiers. They had only ever been a uniform mass in combats and helmets, somewhat frightening even if she had been told they were there to help. Only one soldier had stood out, had connected with Betsy with her kindness, care and courage – her soul sister, Molly. Then there had been Quaseem, the widowed Afghan teacher turned Army interpreter, who helped them understand each other and later to stay in contact through letters he forwarded and by visiting her at the orphanage in Kabul. He had become a friend too and they still stayed in touch with him. The other men were never important to her. She had never realised just how important one of them were to Molly.

Now Charles' dark, troubled gaze fell on Betsy and his jaw dropped as he for a few seconds took her in. She was older, a woman not a girl, and her skin paler when not exposed to the blazing Afghan sun, but her features were much the same and those astounding light green eyes unforgettable. He recognised her without a shadow of a doubt.

"Bashira!?"

He now looked even more confused than before, faced with a second ghost from his past.

"No, dad. This is Betsy, my girlfriend." Sam moved closer and put his hand on the small of her back. Including, protecting. She loved when he did that.

"He is right, Sam", she said softly. "My name is Bashira too."

"Then why...?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"When my little brother was a baby, he called me Bashy and it turned into Betsy. I kind of liked it so everyone started saying it. Only mum calls me Bashira."

"Sam", Charles interrupted. "Did you set this up? Did you plan this? For me and Molly to meet?"

"No! For fucks sake! Do you think I would do that to any of you? We didn't know the connection, the coin dropped today, this afternoon. Too late. Where is Molly?"

"Yeah, where is mum?"

"She left just before you came barging in. We ran into each other inside the entrance..."

"And? What happened?"

"She just stared at me and said she couldn't stay in the same room as me, then she turned and left. I was too shocked to try to stop her. I thought it was a coincidence she was here but now I realise it wasn't."