They sat at a table in the café, sharing a slice of cake they had bought. Laura sighed contentedly as the cold cream contrasted with the warm and juicy cake. Jake, her companion, hadn’t spoken since he had fished the $3.75 from his pocket, and Laura was beginning to doubt he was actually the son of her town’s local billionaire, John Parr.
She reached for her shoulder bag to get out a puzzle book, and saw his startlingly blue eyes follow her mittened hand’s movement. His face looked slightly confused when she pulled the puzzle book out and turned to the latest unfinished crossword, but he was covering it well. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen when you bump into an old friend while on holiday on New Zealand, she thought to herself, thinking of all the rather romantic books her father had been buying her lately. Laura concentrated on the crossword in front of her, “ ‘Hospital resident’ 9 letters.”
“Um… inpatient?” he suggested. She had always liked his dictionary knowledge. She tried it. It fit.
“Thanks,” she said, writing it in, then looked back at Jake and smiled. “So… have you got a job? We haven’t been in touch for absolute ages.”
They chatted until 12:41pm, when Laura’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the caller. “Darn it!” she said. It was Cameron, her ex-boyfriend. He usually only called on business, and she couldn’t remember if she had told him about her holiday. She pressed the green button and held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, Laur,” Cameron’s voice found its way from Australia to New Zealand, more precisely to Laura’s ear.
“Did I tell you I’m on holiday in New Zealand?” Laura asked, trying not to sound too stern.
“ ‘Course.”
“Then why’d you call? I know you don’t usually call for matters other than work.” Laura’s inner Cool-o-meter sniggered at her sentence.
“You remember Jake Parr?” Gosh, this was going like one of her new books.
“Maybe. Why?” She tried to not think of them. She didn’t need to suddenly break into laughter.
“He’s run away. Gone missing, whatever. I wanted to ask you if you’d seen him.” Laura glanced at Jake, who was muttering while working on 19 down.
“What if I have?”
“Well, his dad’s dead worried, and wants to say sorry.” Cam sounded sad, probably thinking of his own relationship with his dad.
“Erm… What for?” Jake had finished 19 down (tern) and was watching Laura as she said this.
“They fought. Jake ran away. That’s all of the gossip that’s reached me at pres-” Laura slid her thumb to the red button and pressed it. She didn’t need to hear anything else.
“So… you know ‘bout my fight then, I’m guessing?” Jake spoke suddenly.
“Yeah. What’d you fight ‘bout?” Laura asked.
“I bought plane tickets down here to see a concert and a couple of exhibitions. Forgot to tell dad.” Jake’s expression was sad, and she knew he wasn’t lying.
“Ouch. He didn’t like that? No, don’t answer that.” Laura had talked to John a couple of times. “Instead, why didn’t he want you to come?”
“Um… I don’t completely know. Someone probably mentioned it to him. He practically exploded and came rushing up to my bedroom. I was packing.” Jake sighed longingly. “We never got to say sorry.” He seemed to gather his composure, and added, “And probably won’t. I’ve got friends over – down here I can stay with. I’ll get a job,”
“But… what about your mother? Your family?” Your friends? was what she nearly said, but bit it back. She wanted to punch him. He was almost everything she wanted. The almost was because he was now saying he didn’t want to come back. Dad’s new books were floating to the top of her consciousness, but she was dunking them back down.
“Mum’s gone. All that’s left is Mary Parr, the party-goer and wife of John Parr. Mary gets drunk every other night, and I’m left to look after my siblings, ‘cause dad is usually away at meetings.” Jake’s expression remained straight. Laura hadn’t known his family had been so problematic.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Have you talked to your dad?” Gosh, I sound like my mother.
“David? Of course not. My mum’s scared enough.” And that was that. His dad was the mad type.
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