Teen Dreams Book 2

TEEN DREAMS

 

Book 3.

 

 

By

 

 

Don Carter

 

© 2019 by Don Carter

 

Chapter 1.

“Mum,” I shouted through my bedroom door, “I can’t fasten this stupid tie.”

It wasn’t Mum who answered me, it was Dad by walking into my room, removing the bow tie from my fingers, wrapping it round his own neck and tying it, loosening it, slipping it over his head and then doing the same in reverse until it was around the collar of my shirt.

“Thanks Dad,” I told him, “just like my school tie when I first started.”

“Well let’s hope you don’t take as long to learn this time,” he answered, “you could have got a ready-tied one, you know.”

“But that wouldn’t have been as stylish,” I retorted, “how are the girls doing?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll all be ready when the car arrives,” he assured me, “now get your shoes and jacket on, brush your hair, and let’s we men go down to the bar and have a drink while we wait.”

I did as he asked, checked that I had my wallet and a couple of Sharpie pens in my pocket before we left the suite, and travelled down to the fourth floor, where the main hotel bar was.

Once we reached the opulent, oak panelled residents bar, Dad ordered himself a whisky and soda, and me a fresh orange juice, and we sat down to wait for our ladies.

“So, what’s going to happen with you and Charlie, now she’s going out to Dubai?” Dad asked.

“She’s not emigrating Dad,” I replied, “she’s just going to go for Christmas, to get re-acquainted with him, and get acquainted with her step-mum and her two sisters.”

“And then?”

“She’ll come back, and we’ll get on with life. I’ll go back to school, she’ll go on to the next job and we’ll see each other whenever we can. I don’t think we’re ready to book the honeymoon yet, Dad.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you were, son, just wondering where you were at. And what about Kathy?”

“I think that’s about run its course now Dad, remember she suggested we should be free to see other people, and the last couple of times I was home, she couldn’t go out because she had a date with Dave Dickinson.”

“So, you’re between girlfriends again?” he asked.

“Dad, I’ve been between girlfriends since I got back from LA,” I answered, my voice flat.

“Which brings us to the elephant in the room,” Dad said, “Cal.”

“Nothing to discuss, Dad,” I said, “she accused me of cheating, after Munich. At least I had evidence of what she’d done.”

“Actually, there is something,” he said, “David, they’re letting her come home from the hospital for Christmas.”

“They’re what?” I asked incredulously.

“Just for the day,” he said.

“And I suppose Mum wants them to come to us for Christmas dinner?” I asked.

“It is our turn son,” he replied.

“All right,” I said.

“Is that all right?” Dad asked, his shoulders slumping in imitation of a teenager, I wondered where he got that, “or all right as in yes, great, super, I’m looking forward to it?”

“Dad,” I complained, drawing the word out until it was almost a whine.

“So ,which is it?” he asked quietly.

“It’s all right Dad,” I began, “As in, I’ll be the good and faithful son and welcome you and Mum’s guests to the house, and even be nice to them.”

“Not the answer we wanted to hear,” he replied, “but I suppose it will have to do.”

He picked up his drink and finished it, just as the girls arrived.

“The car’s outside,” Mum said as we joined them.

I looked at my two dates, both of whom looked absolutely stunning. Charlie was in a dark green Vivienne Westwood gown that we’d borrowed for the evening, and my other date was in lemon yellow.

“Pip, you look gorgeous,” I said to my sister.

“Thank you,” she said, unusually shyly for her, “are you sure you want me with you tonight?”

“I wouldn’t have come if you weren’t,” I replied, “and you, Charlie, are just stunning.”

They both kissed me on opposite cheeks, which caused Mum to get out her handkerchief, lick it and wipe the lipstick off.

“All right Mr. big film star,” Mum said, “let’s go see your adoring public.”

There are, give or take a few, two thousand seats in the Odeon Leicester Square, Britain’s largest single screen cinema, and because of the street layout in the square, we had to get out of the car at the Empire, and walk down the red carpet, the fifty yards or so to the cinema. Outside the doors there were TV cameras and reporters, but between the Empire and the Odeon there were fans, hundreds of them. Charlie and I stopped and had photographs taken with some of them, and signed autographs. Even my sister was asked for hers. She protested that she was just my sister, but that didn’t seem to matter. Mum and Dad had already been escorted into the Odeon, but the three of us were stopped by a reporter from E! just outside the door.

“Right now, I’m talking to David J Barker, who plays Greg Paradise, and his two, yes, that’s right, two stunningly beautiful dates,” she began, “really David? Two dates. Isn’t that a little greedy?”

I was surprised when Alison spoke up.

“We just felt there was safety in numbers,” she said.

“Well, I’m sure we all recognise TV star Charlie Hudson,” the reporter went on, “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We’ve just finished filming a TV drama together, which will be out on ITV next summer,” Charlie replied, “and the stunningly beautiful young lady on David’s left arm is his sister Alison.”

“And you, Alison, are you in films as well, or are you a model?” was the next question.

“Neither,” Alison replied, “I’m still at school and I want to be a doctor.”

With that she let us go, since the next actor was coming down the carpet. We waved at the rest of the fans and entered the cinema, where we were ushered to our seats in the stalls. After Max made a speech and had all the cast and crew members stand up to take a round of applause the film started. Fifteen minutes later I discovered something about myself, I couldn’t stand watching myself up on the big screen either. Fortunately, I was seated on the end of a row so I just quietly stood up and walked out of the cinema, back into the foyer.

There was still a group of fans outside the doors, waiting for all the famous people to come out so that they could get autographs. Most of them looked to be about my age, so I opened one of the doors and stepped outside.

“Hi,” I greeted them.

“Hi,” one of them replied, a young girl of about fourteen, “are you famous?”

“No, I’m not famous,” I answered, “I’m just a young teenage schoolkid like all of you are.”

“Then why are you in there?” she asked.

“I’ll let you into a secret,” I said, “I came out here because I was embarrassed in there.”

“But why were you embarrassed?” she asked.

“Because I didn’t like seeing myself on the screen,” I told her, “I’m five foot six, and the guy up on the screen was like fifteen feet high.”

“So, you are famous then,” she insisted, reaching for her autograph book.

“No,” I said, “I just made a film that’s all.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” she said, “I wish I could make a film.”

“Well who knows, maybe you will one day,” I said, “or maybe you’ll be something useful instead. Perhaps you’ll be a doctor, or a research scientist, and invent a cure for cancer. I think I’d rather do that than make films.”

“But being a film star is so cool,” she said.

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

She nodded her agreement.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Being a film star is boring, I’ll tell you what, come with me.”

I held my hand out to her, she took it and I led her inside the cinema.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To see a film,” I said, and took her through the doors into the auditorium. Once we were there, I put her in my seat, and, as Charlie looked round I held a finger to my lips to get her to be quiet. Then I left again.

Two hours later I was standing in the foyer when the audience started to leave. The family and Charlie were the first out, with my new friend amongst them.

As they walked out Charlie was deep in animated conversation with her.

“David,” she said as they approached, “did you know it was Cindy’s birthday tomorrow?”

Her birthday? I didn’t even know her name.

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, “I didn’t even know her name. I just brought her in because she looked cold.”

“Well, she’s having a party tomorrow, and you’ve given her a problem.”

“How could I have given her a problem?” I asked

“Well, when she’s with all her friends tomorrow, she’d going to want to tell them about tonight.”

“I can see that, but why is it a problem.”

“Think David. On your fourteenth birthday, would your friends have believed you if you told them that the night before, you’d met a film star, and gone to the world premiere of his new film?”

“Charlie, I’m not a film star, I just made a film,” I objected.

“I’ve just seen it,” Charlie replied, “you’re a film star. But back to Cindy’s problem.”

“Ah, I didn’t think of that,” I said, “I’m sorry Cindy. What can I do to make them believe you?”

She looked at me shyly, her eyes looking at the toes of her shoes.

“Would you come to my party?” she asked, “and you too, Charlie and Alison.”

I looked at my sister and girlfriend. They responded with small nods of the head.

“We’d love to,” I said.

“Oh, thank you,” she squealed as she leapt up, flung her arms round my neck and kissed me firmly on the lips.

“Oops, sorry,” she said as I put her down on the floor.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, looking at my watch, “damn, it’s after eleven, we’d better get back.”

“What?” cried Cindy, horrified, “my curfew is ten thirty.”

“You’d better ring your parents,” Alison said.

“I can’t, I don’t have a mobile,” she answered.

I handed her mine, “here you go.”

She dialled the number.

“Hi Daddy,” she said when the call was answered, “I’m sorry, I’m late, but I’m safe.”

She then proceeded to describe her evening to her father.

“Yes, we’re here with his parents, sister and girlfriend,” she said when she’d finished.

Then she held the phone out to my Dad.

“My Daddy would like to speak to you please,” she said.

My Dad greeted Cindy’s, then listened.

“Don’t worry about it, we have a car, we’ll bring her home.”

He listened again.

“OK then, we’ll see you shortly.”

He finished the call and handed me my phone back.

“So, what’s the verdict Dad?” I asked.

“We walk to the end of the road, get in the car and first we take this young lady home, and then back to the hotel. I need a drink.”

“Actually Dad, I meant about the film.”

“Oh, that was brilliant,” Cindy said, “especially the boy playing Greg Paradise.”

I just looked at her as the rest of them started laughing.

We got Cindy home, I offered to walk her to the door, but we (by we I mean the parents) decided it would be better if Charlie did it, then told the driver to take us back to the hotel.

We were spending the next day in London, then the following morning, we’d take Charlie to Heathrow to catch her plane to Dubai, and then drive our own car back up to home. As soon as my head hit the pillow my eyes closed and I slept the sleep of the just, the just plain knackered.

We all met up for breakfast in the hotel restaurant on the 22^nd, and afterwards headed out to the British Museum.

I particularly liked the Elgin marbles, but wasn’t sure about the morality of them being kept, especially after Charlie told us the story of seeing them in the Acropolis museum in Athens, and how all the spaces for the ones in London had plaques in them explaining that those parts were ‘currently’ being displayed in the British Museum.

After we finished at the museum, which I found really interesting, we went to a little pub just outside the gates and had lunch, after which Mum and Dad headed off back to the hotel, while the rest of us went shopping on Tottenham Court Road for a small present for Cindy’s birthday, then caught the underground from there to Woodside Park, where it was just a short walk to her house on Holden Avenue.

We rang the doorbell and it was answered by a pleasant looking woman in her late thirties or maybe early forties.

“Hello, I’m David Barker, and this is my sister Alison, and my friend and colleague Charlie Hudson, we met Cindy last night at the Odeon in town and she invited us to drop in at her party.”

“Oh, yes, the people from the cinema,” she said, “please come in. I must admit, it’s a strange tale she tells, but how much of it is true and how much is her imagination, I don’t know. Come through, she’s just telling her friends now.”

She led us through into a spacious rear dining room, where twelve teenagers, mostly girls, were sat round a table eating sandwiches.

“I say it’s not true,” one slim blonde girl said, “film stars just do not come out of premieres and take girls off the street and give them a seat at the premiere.”

“Yes, we do,” I said softly.

They all looked around and suddenly the room was full of squealing, not at my presence but at the presence of Charlie Hudson, who, admittedly, had been described by one tabloid as ‘the source of millions of teenage masturbations, most of them male’.

“Please,” Cindy said, over the squealing, “sit down and have something to eat, we’ve got trifle later. How long can you stay? We’re going to watch a film later.”

“Great,” I said, “which one?”

“Bring It On,” Cindy replied, making the boys start making retching noises.

“Steven, Robbie, Jon, shush, it’s my birthday, I get to choose.”

“Do you have a DVD player Cindy?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

I pulled a DVD case out of my bag.

“How about this one then?” I asked, holding up a copy of Star Academy.

“Yes,” Cindy squealed.

I pulled out another disc.

“This one you might like too, for another day,” I told them.

“What’s that one?” one of the boys asked, Robbie I think.

“Outtakes and bloopers,” I said, “you might like watching me making a complete fool of myself.”

“He can do that off the set as well,” my sister muttered, which caused everyone else to laugh.

We sat down and started to eat, the sandwiches were good, not just sliced bread with a smear of butter and some filling, but really well made. I expressed my appreciation.

“Thank you,” Cindy said, “I made them.”

“They’re really very good. Cindy,” Charlie said, “where do you get the bread?”

“I baked it.”

“What’s it like?” one of the girls, I think she was Becca, asked.

“The bread?” I replied, “it’s excellent.”

“No, silly,” she answered, “making a film.”

“Well, Charlie has much more experience of that than I do, but mostly it’s long hours of boredom, mixed with a few minutes of actually doing something.”

“But it always looks so glamorous,” she said.

“All right,” I replied, “I’ll tell you about the glamorous life of a young film actor. First, you get up at five am, have breakfast, shower, dress and are picked up at six by the studio car. You arrive a little after six thirty and are in make-up. For the next hour two or three attractive young women strip you off and use paint and powder to make you look good on screen. Then it’s up to two hours in costume and believe me the space armour you see us in is heavy, hot and uncomfortable. Around eight thirty, you get yourself a cup of coffee, and retire to your trailer, which thankfully is air conditioned, because you’re in a heavy costume in Southern California, where the temperature is in the mid-twenties and rising. There you find the day’s changes to the script you’ve just spent half the night learning. So you settle down to learn those. Eventually you are called onto set, where you run through the scene with the director. He or she tells you what they want you to do in the scene, then you go for a take. That usually takes about two minutes, then the director wants another take, this time with a different camera angle, or to change your actions slightly, or even because someone on the crew coughed while you were filming. Finally, the director is satisfied, so you go back to your trailer while they set up the next shot. And that goes on all day, you might get four or five short scenes ‘in the bag’. Finally, around eight or nine in the evening, you call it a day, go back to costume to have your costume taken off, get a shower to wash the make-up off, get dressed and your car takes you home. You arrive about ten, microwave a TV dinner, and fall into bed, all ready and eager to start again the next day. Yes, it’s really glamorous.”

“But what about all those gorgeous California girls,” one of the boys, possibly Jon, asked.

“Well, I only lived a couple of hundred yards from the beach, so I got out there most weekends, mostly accompanied by my agent’s two daughters,” I replied.

“California girls,” Jon announced.

“Aged seven and nine, but yes, I did attract some female attention.”

“It’s even less glamorous for girls,” Charlie said, softly.

I noticed Charlie’s sudden change of mood and reached into my bag again.

“Oh,” I said, “I forgot earlier, it wouldn’t be nice to come to a friend’s birthday party and not bring a present, so, we got you this.”

I brought out a plain cardboard box about six inches square and four deep.

“What is it,” Cindy asked, her eyes wide.

“Sorry we didn’t have chance to wrap it, but it was the one thing we knew for certain you didn’t have,” I said as I walked round the table and handed it to her.

She looked puzzled, then opened the box and screamed.

“A mobile phone,” she squeaked, “Oh David, thank you.”

“It’s from all of us,” I said softly.

“And thank you too, Alison and Charlie.”

Her parents looked in to see what the screaming was about.

“Look what they bought me Mummy,” she said, proudly holding the phone up.

Before her mother could answer, my phone dinged to tell me there was an incoming text.

I pulled it out and pressed the message key.

“EARLY FIGURES SHOW MASSIVE HIT. OUTSOLD TITANIC ON FIRST AFTERNOON. YOU ARE OFFICIALLY A STAR. MAX.”

“Excuse me folks, I have to make a couple of phone calls,” I said, “is there somewhere I could use?”

I addressed the last to Cindy’s mother.

“Peter’s study, the door to the left of the front door,” she replied.

Once in the study, I sat down on the comfortable looking leather sofa and pulled up my contacts list. I pressed Max’s number.

He answered on the first ring.

“Good morning David, and congratulations.”

“Nothing to do with me,” I said, “I was just following orders.”

Max laughed.

“You know my boy,” he said, “I never thought I’d live to see the day when I laughed at those words.”

As a child Max had escaped from Nazi Germany, the rest of his family didn’t.

“Oh, I’m sorry Max, I didn’t think.”

“Don’t worry David, we have a hit.”

“How big a hit?”

“We opened on three thousand screens in Europe this morning and sold eight hundred thousand tickets. That’s almost full capacity. We use an average five dollars a ticket. That’s a four million dollar take.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Taking expenses into account, I reckon you personally made a little more than twenty thousand dollars, so far, and we have the US opening starting in about fifteen minutes. Same number of screens, but they’re bigger and more expensive.”

“Oh my god,” I said, “thank you Max, for everything. I’d better ring Mum and Dad.”

“That’s a good idea, with your permission I’m going to ring Tom and tell him what a star he discovered.”

For a moment, I was confused, then I realised he meant my English teacher.

“Permission granted.”

“OK, son,” he said, “I’ll call you later.”

I rang Dad and gave him the news, got the congratulations of my parents and went back to the party.

As I walked in, I was drawn aside by Cindy’s Dad.

“David, your present, while it’s a lovely gesture, it’s too much, you have to take it back.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know your surname, so I can’t address you by name, but it’s what we wanted to buy her. It was the one thing we knew she didn’t have.”

“But it must have been so expensive. And it’s Peter, Peter Green. My wife is Sarah.”

“That depends on what you define as expensive. Would you be happier if I took the phone back and replaced it with something that cost say, one per cent of what I’ve earned since I arrived in your home?”

“All right I’ll bite, how much would that be?” he asked.

“So far this afternoon, about two thousand five hundred dollars. Eighteen hundred pounds or so.”

“One percent of that would be appropriate.”

“Mr Green, Peter, that was the one per cent.” I showed him the text message.

“What do they call a hit?” he asked.

“Well, according to the producer, on the first showing in Europe, we had eight hundred thousand admissions. We outsold Titanic on both bums on seats and takings.”

“Congratulations young man, put that way, perhaps you’re right, to you that’s not expensive.”

“Thank you, sir,” I answered, “can I be nosy and ask what you and Mrs. Green do?”

“Not nosy at all, I’m professor of Philosophy at King’s College London, and Sarah is a consultant Psychologist specialising in rape victims and abuse survivors at Paddington.”

We shook hands.

“I hope my daughter has found a new friend in you,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, I hope so too.”

Cindy was thrilled to be allowed to keep her phone and rewarded the three of us with a kiss and a seemingly never ending stream of ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’.

We stayed another hour at the party, long enough to sing happy birthday when Cindy’s mother brought out the cake with fourteen candles, she blew them out and, presumably made her birthday wish.

We said goodbye at the front door, where Peter pressed two cards into my hand.

“Thank you David,” he said, “Cindy hasn’t shut up about you since she got home last night. These are our cards, Sarah and I, if there’s ever anything we can do for you, please, ring.”

“It was our pleasure. I’d be obliged if you could make sure that the two DVDs I left don’t leave your house.”

“They won’t,” he agreed, “thank you for that as well. I wasn’t looking forward to the chick flick.”

He smiled, then Cindy stepped forward and kissed us all. I couldn’t understand why mine lasted longer than the two girls.

Once the goodbyes were over, we walked down to the underground station, strangely named since it was very much above ground and caught the train back to Tottenham court road, where we changed to the Central line to St Pauls. From there it was just a short walk round the huge baroque cathedral to the Officer’s Club hotel on Ludgate Hill, where we were staying.

Mum and Dad weren’t back, or had gone out again, when we arrived so we all gathered in my room, next door to theirs. The girls had a twin on the next floor, but all we’d been able to get was two doubles and a twin, and somehow they weren’t keen on Charlie and I sharing a double, despite the fact that they knew exactly what we’d been getting up to in Manchester. When they still hadn’t returned by seven o’clock, I rang Dad to find out where they were.

They were being tourists, he told me, and would be back later and that in the meantime, we should get dinner, and not wait up for them.

“Then where shall we go for dinner” Alison asked.

“Somewhere nearby,” Charlie suggested.

“Pasta,” I suggested, “there’s a really good restaurant called Mangio not far away.”

So we went to Mangio. We had probably the best Pasta I’d ever had, it was actually made fresh before our very eyes, stuffed with Mozzarella, and with a tasty thick tomato sauce. We were stuffed by the time we finished and only just managed ice cream for pudding.

Then we walked back to the hotel and took the lift up to the girls’ floor.

As we stopped outside their door, Alison handed me her door key.

“Swap,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Give me your key, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“But my pyjamas and things are in there,” I objected.

“Of course your pyjamas are, but you won’t be needing them,” she replied, “the rest of your things, including clean clothes for morning are in there.”

She pointed at the door.

I looked an appeal at Charlie, who just stood smiling enigmatically.

“But what if Mum and Dad check?”

“They won’t,” Alison assured me.

“But if they do,” I said.

She just looked exasperated.

“Boys,” she said.

“David,” Charlie said at last, “why do you think your parents aren’t here?”

“They’re having a romantic evening to themselves?” I replied.

“Plausible deniability,” Alison said.

I looked quizzically at her.

“No, m’lud, we had no idea what our under-age son and his eighteen year old girlfriend were planning to do. Only they and our fourteen year old daughter knew, we never suspected.”

“You mean?” I began.

“I think the penny dropped,” Alison said.

“But you shouldn’t be getting mixed up in things like that,” I objected.

Alison sighed, deeply.

“David, I may be a fourteen year old virgin, but I’m at least theoretically aware of the relationship between tab A and slot B. Now will you please give me your key, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. And I really have no desire whatsoever to watch you two give a demonstration on the next bed.”

I knew when I was defeated, handed my key over, kissed Alison good night, with a whispered ‘thank you’ thrown in, and led my girlfriend into the room.

 

 

 

Chapter 2.

Charlie and I had to be up at six, in order to get to Heathrow for her eight o’clock check in. I wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye, I really liked her, and I had a depressing feeling that I’d never see her again after today.

“David,” Charlie said as we got off the train at terminal 3, “what’s wrong? You’re very quiet.”

“I’m just sad that you’re leaving,” I replied.

She stopped and turned to look at me.

“No,” she said, “it’s more than that. You’re afraid that I won’t come back, that this is goodbye.”

I just stood there and nodded, until she stopped me by applying her lips to mine.

“Come on,” she said, “coffee.”

She led the way while I followed with her luggage on a trolley, and we eventually found a coffee shop. I bought us two coffees, an Americano for me and a skinny Latte for her and we sat at a corner table with two chairs.

“David,” she said, as we sat down opposite each other, “when we first met, I was a wreck. My mother had turned me into little more than a prostitute. You liberated me from her.”

“No, I didn’t,” I protested.

“Yes, you did,” she insisted, firmly, “she wasn’t used to anyone standing up to her, particularly me, and what you said and did gave me the courage to do it. Now, less than six months later, I’m independent, I have control of my own life and my own body, and I’m going off to spend Christmas and the new year with my Dad and his new family. My Dad who that so-called mother kept me away from. You did that for me, and I’ll always be grateful.”

“I only did what I thought was right,” I said.

“You only ever do what you think is right David, and the miracle is, usually, it is right. David, I love you. I will always love you, my hero. My saviour.”

She paused and took a sip of her coffee.

“Do you remember that night in Manchester, when I asked you to take me to your room and show me what it was like to be made love to?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” I replied.

“That was the first time in my life I ever went to bed with a man willingly. I repeat, I love you, and, no matter what, I will always love you.”

“And I, you,” I replied.

“Good,” she said simply, “now, the future. Will we be together forever? You know the whole thing, wedding, house, two point four kids, dog, two car garage, all that. I don’t know, but I’ve just turned eighteen, you’re not even sixteen yet, it’s too soon to know. But if you take being together as being friends, lovers, even just occasionally, and being there for each other when we’re needed. Yes, David, I’m sure we will. Maybe one day we will be married, and I for one would be spectacularly happy with that, but we both have careers David, careers that will take us apart for a lot of the time, even most of the time. James has lined up three projects for me to look at when I get back. I’ll be going out to LA to see some people, but I’ll be back. I will always be back. So please, darling, don’t ever be afraid of saying goodbye to me, because I’ll always be back.”

I reached out and took her hand, drew it to my lips and kissed each finger.

“And I’ll always be there for you,” I whispered.

We finished our coffee, then went to the first-class check-in desk and deposited Charlie’s two suitcases.

“What do we do now?” I asked, once she had her boarding pass.

“Well, there isn’t a lounge this side of security,” she said, “but we could go shopping.”

“Shopping?” I said, my tone unenthusiastic.

“All right, not shopping then, or do you see that door over there?”

She pointed at the opposite wall, there was a door with a disabled sign over it.

“Yes,” I said, “it’s a disabled toilet.”

“Have you ever been in a disabled toilet?”

“No, why?”

She pulled me close.

“They’re big, and private,” she whispered in my ear, “and there are plenty of places where I can brace myself while we say goodbye properly.”

“Are you suggesting that we should go in there and…”

“No, my love,” she interrupted me, “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m demanding it.”

She took my hand and started leading me across the concourse.

“But it’s for disabled people, we’re not disabled,” I objected.

“Not every disability is visible,” she replied.

We went in, and we did say goodbye in there, spectacularly, and then I escorted her to the security gate, where we said another, more age appropriate goodbye. I stood there until she disappeared round a corner, turning to wave at me as she reached it. Then I trudged off back to the underground station and took the train back to central London.

I thought about Charlie a lot on the train, so much that I missed my connection at Holborn and had to double back to catch a central line train to St Paul’s. I got back to the hotel, to find the family all packed, checked out and ready to go. We walked our bags round to the multi-storey car park round the corner, packed them into the boot and set off back home.

The journey back was long, mainly because of traffic on the M1, but uneventful. We were tired when we got back and decided that we’d eat out. Andy and Jean hadn’t wrecked the house with wild parties, so Dad generously let them join us. I thought it was particularly generous that he announced that I’d be paying, and that we were going to the King’s Manor at Pontefract.

The meal was excellent, expensive but excellent, and Dad reneged on his promise to everyone, and he paid.

Afterwards, we dropped Jean off at home, which was another surprise. Home, for Jean, was Hightown vicarage, her father was a vicar. Then we all went home, and basically fell into bed, it had been a busy weekend.

The following day, Monday, was Christmas eve, and I hadn’t done any shopping. Nor did I have the faintest idea of what to buy for who.

I knew I had to buy for Mum and Dad, Kathy, my sister, brother and Jean, but was there anyone else. Was it appropriate to buy something for Cal. I didn’t particularly want her here for Christmas, but if I was buying for everyone else, would it be fair to leave her out. I was fast remembering why I hated Christmas.

I sat down and thought, for a long time before deciding. Siblings and Jean a watch, not a Rolex or anything else expensive, but a nice medium price watch. Mum and Dad, a coffee maker for their bedroom. Aunt Mary and Cal were a problem. I decided that I’d ask Mum about Aunt Mary and Mary herself about Cal.

Since Mum was out I walked round next door and knocked on the door.

“Hi,” I said, as she let me in.

“David,” she replied, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m thinking about Christmas presents, and I was wondering about Cal. I have no idea what would be appropriate, and whether there are things she’s not allowed to have in the hospital.”

“David, that’s so sweet, after everything,” she said, “thank you. But do you know what I think the best thing you can give her for Christmas?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking you,” I replied.

“The best thing you can give her is you,” she said, “I don’t mean romantically, but just to have her friend back. If you just hold her in your arms and kiss her when she gets home, I think that would be worth more to her than anything you could buy. It doesn’t have to be a deep meaningful kiss, just a light peck on the lips, and it might work wonders.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.

“Then we’re in no worse position than we are,” she said, her eyes sad, “David, she doesn’t seem to be making any progress.”

She started crying and I sat with her and cradled her in my arms.

“I’m losing her, David, she’s like a zombie,” she said, “I think that’s the drugs they’ve got her on. She just says yes to whatever she’s told to do. I don’t know what to do, I’m at the end of my tether. If I lose her, I lose everything.”

I let out a long breath.

“Can’t you just sign her out of the hospital and take care of her at home?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, “she’s detained for treatment under the Mental Health Act. Effectively they’ve got her in prison, but she hasn’t broken any laws.”

I sat silent for a few minutes.

“I think I may have an idea, but I need to make a phone call when I get home,” I said.

“You can make it from here if you want,” she said.

“I can’t, the number is at home,” I replied, “I met a girl in London.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” she asked.

“No, not like that,” I said, “she was a fan. Charlie Alison and I went to her birthday party. Her Mum’s a psychologist who specialises in therapy for young abuse and rape victims. She said if ever there was any way that her husband or she could help me, I was to call.”

“Would you?” she asked, “how much would she charge?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to find out.”

“David,” she said, looking at me seriously, “you are not going to pay for this.”

It was a warning not a statement.

“Okay,” I said, “I agree. But, with a proviso.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That if you can’t afford it, you’ll let me lend you the money, then you can pay me back over time,” I said.

She thought for a moment.

“I can live with that,” she said.

“Right then, I’ll get back home and make that call,” I said standing up to leave.

“David,” she said, stopping me, “one last thing.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“If you were thinking what you could get me for Christmas, you just gave me probably the second best gift you could.”

“What would you really like?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer already.

“My daughter back, and healthy.”

“I’m not sure I can manage that,” I said, “but I’ll try my best.”

I walked back home and went up to my bedroom to get the cards I had been given the day before.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled the number on Sarah Green’s card. It was answered on the third ring.

“Doctor Green’s secretary,” a plummy voice announced, “how may I help you.”

“Would it be possible to speak to Doctor Green please?” I asked.

“I’m afraid she’s with a client at the moment, may I enquire what it’s about?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “My name’s David Barker. I’m a friend of her daughter, and she told me yesterday to ring if ever there was anything she could do to help, I need a little advice from her.”

“May I have her call you when she’s free?” she asked.

“Yes, please, I’d be grateful.”

“Does she have your number?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, I’ll give it to you,” I replied and reeled off both my home and mobile numbers.

“Very well Mr. Barker, it may be two or three hours before she gets back to you, if at all today.”

“Thank you,” I said, “I’ll wait for her call.”

I walked back over to next door and reported that Sarah Green was going to ring me back, then back home again. I’d be back at school after the new year, which I was really looking forward to, but the downside was, I had a lot of work to do.

That being the case, I got out my school bag and started on Inorganic Chemistry.

I’d been at it for about two hours when my phone rang. It wasn’t from a number in my contacts list so I was a little hesitant when I answered.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello, is that David?” a female voice asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Hello, David, it’s Sarah, Sarah Green, Cindy’s mother,” she answered.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Green,” I said.

“I thought we’d agreed on Sarah?” she asked.

“Well yes, but the reason I’m ringing,” I began, “is that this is a sort of professional call.”

“Do you have a problem?” she asked, “what can I do to help?”

“Not me personally,” I replied, “it’s my friend Cal Warner.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

I did. I told her about Cal and me, about the summer, LA, Munich, Wolfgang and the DVD. I included her collapse when she watched the opening scene of the DVD, the fact that her mother said that whatever treatment she was receiving was turning her into a zombie, and her mother’s fears for her. I told her how her mother had described the hospital as being more like a prison.

“Is she in there voluntarily, or is she detained under the Mental Health Act?” she asked when I finished.

“I think she’s detained,” I said, “they’re letting her out for the day tomorrow, for Christmas.”

“Probably section three,” she said, “look, David, at the moment there is absolutely nothing I can do. I can’t see her on your request, it has to come from her, or, because she’s a minor, from her nearest relative.”

“All right then, thank you Sarah, that’s her mother,” I said.

“Then in the first instance, I need to speak to her mother. How can I do that?”

“She lives just next door, I could go round there, and then ring you back,” I offered.

“Very good,” she replied, “do that please, I’ll speak to you shortly.”

I said goodbye and ended the call, then dashed next door.

Once I got there, I explained who Sarah was, and what we’d talked about. Then I called Sarah.

They talked for a minute or so, then Mary turned to me.

“David,” she said, “Sarah feels that you ought not to be here while we talk about Cal. She has to be very careful about client confidentiality.”

“All right,” I agreed, “can you bring my phone back when you’re finished.”

“Of course, love,” she said, “and David.”

“Yes?” I answered.

“Thank you, from both of us.”

I went back home and turned the TV on, there was nothing worth watching, despite there being nearly two hundred channels to choose from so I went back upstairs and got the books out again.

When I looked at my clock, it was three pm, and I still hadn’t done my Christmas shopping. I panicked and started running round like a headless chicken gathering together what I needed. On the way out I called into next door to see if I could claim my phone back. As I walked in, Aunt Mary was sitting at the kitchen table.

“Oh, hi David,” she said, “I’m sorry I ran the battery on your phone down.”

She held it out to me.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed, “I was going to ring Mum and tell her I was going into town to do my Christmas shopping.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she repeated, “Look, why don’t I ring your Mum and tell her that I’m taking you down to do it.”

“Would you?” I said, “ring her I mean. I can get to town on foot, I don’t want to put you out.”

“No problem,” she said, “I need to get a couple of things myself.”

She rang Mum, told her she had things to do in town and was taking me to do my shopping at the same time.

Once we were in the car she turned to me a planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you, David,” she said, “I had a very interesting talk with Sarah Green.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about it?” I asked, “I appreciate if you want to keep it private, but I’d like to know anything you can tell me.”

“The most important thing is, and something the hospital has never informed us of, is that as Cal’s nearest relative, I can ask the hospital to release her. They then have to either release her within twenty-eight days or refuse at which time I can appeal to a mental health tribunal. I’ve asked Sarah to look at Cal and assess her. They’ll have to let her see Cal. She thinks that they’re giving her unnecessary tranquilisers, just to keep her docile.”

“If they are, then we need to attack,” I said.

“Sarah doesn’t think that will be necessary,” Mary replied, “she thinks that faced with the possibility of an investigation of their policies, they’ll just release her into what she calls section 117 aftercare.”

“Leaving them to carry on as they are?” I spat.

“One step at a time, get Cal home and better, then start improving things for everyone.”

“And in the meantime, other people suffer?” I said.

“David, I understand what you’re saying, but please, if you’re going to start a campaign, at least let us get Cal home first.”

“Well, I doubt if I could get anything started on my own and certainly not on Christmas Eve.”

“All right,” I said, “after Christmas, I’ll start looking into it.”

She smiled at me, as we pulled into the car park at the Junction 32 outlet centre.

It took two hours, but I got all my shopping done, and thankfully, given that I was useless at it, all the shops gift-wrapped the presents for me. The only problem I had was a present for the one who’d taken me down.

“Aunt Mary,” I said as we walked towards the exit, “I have a problem.”

“Is it one I can help with?” she asked.

“Actually, my problem is you, or rather what to buy you?”

“David,” she replied, “If Sarah gets Cal out of that awful place, that will be all the Christmas present I’ll ever need.”

“Still, I’d like to show my appreciation,” I said, “It can’t have been easy for you, given all that happened with me and Cal this year, and I do appreciate that you’ve continued to support me.”

“David, can I ask you one question, and have an absolutely straight one hundred percent true answer?” she asked.

“Well, always assuming that I know the answer,” I replied, “I’ll either answer it honestly, or not at all.”

“I don’t suppose I can ask for anything more than that,” she said, “I’m not convinced that I have the right to ask it anyway.”

“Aunt Mary, you can ask me anything at any time,” I said, “there are some things I just won’t discuss, but apart from that I will always either answer you truthfully or not at all.”

Once we were in the car, and belted in, she turned to me.

“David,” she said, hesitantly, “what are your feelings about Cal?”

“In a word, Aunt Mary, ambiguous. I love her, even after all that’s happened, I still love your daughter, my best friend, Cal. I don’t want to believe that she did what the evidence of my own eyes tells me she did in Munich, but even when I asked her to come with me, she chose to stay with him,” I said, “it just doesn’t make sense to me. And then when she accused me of cheating with Kathy, that really hurt, Aunt Mary.”

“I know,” she said, reaching over to rub my shoulder, “I saw your face when she said it. David, can I ask you one favour?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Please don’t write her off until we have her back with us and better.”

“I’ll try, Aunt Mary, all I can promise is that I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” she said, as she started the car and reversed out of the parking space.

“When is she arriving home?” I asked.

“I have to pick her up at six-thirty this evening,” she replied, “and have her back at six-thirty on Boxing Day.”

“How much have they told her about what happened in Munich?” I asked.

“They’ve been confronting her with it, but she’s either in complete denial, or she still doesn’t remember any of it. She has vague recollections of some of the good parts, but nothing whatsoever of the bad parts. She just remembers that Wolfgang boy as someone who helped her rehearse, and she sang act two of Tristan and Isolde with. It’s as if her brain has just cut out anything it doesn’t want to bother with.”

I thought about that for a while.

“I was going to ask if I could come with you to pick her up, but I think that may not be a good idea,” I said, “we can’t predict how she’ll react to me, can we.”

“No,” she agreed, “better to leave that for when she’s home.”

We were home in five minutes, and as we pulled up in her driveway, I thanked her for her help, and took my parcels into the house.

“Do you know when Cal is coming home?” Alison asked.

“Her Mum is picking her up from the hospital at six,” I answered.

“I’ll go and ask if I can go with her,” she replied, and dashed out of the door.

“It’s nice that she still considers Cal a friend,” I said, “I think she needs a friend.”

“She visits her once a week,” Mum said, “takes her little treats and they talk.”

“That’s good,” I said, “is there anything that I can get her that would help?”

“I don’t know,” Mum replied, “apart from things like shower gel, shampoo, cosmetics and such, I think everything is supplied by the hospital, you should ask her when she gets here.”

“I will Mum,” I agreed.

She did something that she used to do when I was a little boy. She placed her hand under my chin and tilted my head up and looked me straight in the eyes.

After gazing into my eyes for a long moment, she released my chin.

“Even after all that’s happened,” she said softly.

And on that, enigmatic note, she set about getting tea ready.

“Mum,” I complained, “what was that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know the answer to that son,” she replied, “perhaps you just need to think about it for a while.”

Sometimes women just completely baffle me.

Alison got back at seven, at which time, we sat down to eat.

“How is she?” Mum asked.

“Very quiet,” Alison replied, “like she doesn’t know where she is or who anybody is. She asked about you David. She’s having a bath, and changing into some better clothes just now, but you could go round and see her later.”

“I will,” I agreed.

It was eight thirty before I got to next door, and when I walked in I was shocked.

Cal had always been very slim, but in the past few years she’d filled out in all the right places and very much had the body of a young woman, but now, she wasn’t slim, she was emaciated. Her skin, usually soft and smooth, without a blemish, was dry and coarse looking, and her usually long lustrous hair, was cropped short and, despite being freshly washed, looked lifeless. Her eyes, usually sparkling and full of mischief, were dull and, well, empty.

What had they done to her?

“David,” she said, softly, almost under her breath as she held out her hand to me.

I took both her hands in mine and pulled her to her feet in front of the sofa. Once she was standing I enveloped her in a hug and looked down at her. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, and then I saw it. I saw how wrong I was, the dilated pupils, the blank lifeless stare. I’d seen it once before. In a student disco in Munich. Wolfgang and his cronies had her drugged.

I bent my head and kissed her gently on the lips.

“I love you Cal,” I whispered, “and I’m sorry. I should never have doubted you.”

“David, what is it?” her mother asked.

“The answer, I think,” I said, “I think I know what happened in Munich.”

 

Chapter 3.

“What do you think happened?” Aunt Mary asked.

“I think Wolfgang and his cronies drugged and raped her,” I said, “though I don’t have any evidence. When I bent my head down to kiss Cal, I noticed the dilated pupils and blank stare, that’s often a sign of being under the influence, and it was exactly the same as she looked that night in Munich. Do you have the contact details for that detective who looked into the DVD?”

“No,” she replied, “but I think your Dad does.”

“I’ll go and get Dad to ring him, I think we need to put this in his hands. Do we have any idea where the investigation is at?” I asked.

“I think basically, they decided that your Dad didn’t deliberately show the DVD to us, and they would never be able to charge anyone, so they just shelved it.”

“They what?” I yelled, causing Cal to jump and start crying, “they have a pornographic video with a fifteen-year-old girl, and they’re doing nothing. What the f… heck do they think they’re playing at?”

Cal was curled up into a ball beside me weeping. I shuffled over and enveloped her in my arms, pulling her up onto my lap.

I began stroking her hair.

“It’s all right, Cal,” I whispered, “I’m here, I’m going to get you through this, no matter what, I’ll always love you.”

“I’ll go get the details from your Dad,” her mother said softly, “back in a minute.”

I nodded to her and she left.

“Don’t leave me David,” Cal whispered, in a little girl’s voice, “I’m so alone and afraid.”

It was the first coherent sentence I’d heard her utter since she arrived home.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied, kissing the top of her head.

The tears had stopped and she snuggled down into me, it wasn’t long before I realised she was asleep.

Aunt Mary and my Dad found us like that, me sat on the sofa, the TV set turning out some mindless pap, and Cal, curled up in a little foetal ball on my lap, snoring gently.

“What is it son?” Dad asked quietly, avoiding disturbing sleeping beauty on my knee.

“I think the DVD was made in Munich by Wolfgang and his friends, in fact, I’m convinced of it, but they won’t let me see it to confirm that. I think they’d been feeding Cal a cocktail of drugs, a very similar one to the ones the hospital has her on. They made her pliant, and basically a zombie, and then used her. We need to let the police know.”

“Right, I’ll take care of that,” Dad said, pulling a card from his pocket and holding his hand out for my mobile.

“Then we need to get her out of that hospital and into somewhere where they may actually do some good,” I went on, “Aunt Mary is there a private hospital around that we can transfer her to?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “and I probably can’t find out before it’s time to take her back.”

“Then ring Sarah Green and ask her,” I said.

“It’s Christmas eve, I can’t just ring out of the blue and ask.”

“Of course you can,” I replied, “it involves your daughter’s well-being.”

She went off to ring Sarah, and I continued to stroke Cal’s hair. She stirred slightly in her sleep and snuggled even further into me. It was almost as if she was trying to burrow her way under my skin. As she curled closer and closer into me, I could tell that there were a lot of bones protruding through her skin, she was very, very thin.

When Mary got back, she smiled.

“Well?” I asked.

“There’s one in Rawdon, Fulford Grange, she says would do the job, it’s BUPA, so would be expensive.”

“That won’t be a problem,” I said, “I’d be willing to bet that with proper care, she wouldn’t be there long.”

“But even a short stay would be more than I could afford,” she said.

“But not more than I can afford,” I replied, “Aunt Mary, since Star Academy opened on Friday, do you know what my share of the take comes to?”

“No,” she replied, “and I’m not sure I want to.”

“Let’s just say, I can afford it.”

“All right, but come what may, it’s a loan,” she said.

Cal started to stir in my arms, and eventually opened her eyes. She looked up at me, and for the first time I saw something approaching Cal in her eyes.

“David,” she said softly, “I’m sorry, I think I nodded off.”

“You were tired,” I said, “do you feel a bit better now?”

“I feel all woozy, and confused,” she said, “I think it’s my medicines.”

“What are you taking?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, they just bring them to me and I take them,” she said.

“They’re in the bag she brought with her,” Aunt Mary, said, “hang on I’ll get it and we’ll look.”

When she brought the drugs down, we knew no more than before. They were contained in a Dossett box, with the tablets in compartments labelled morning, noon and night, and enough tablets in each compartment for that particular dosage.

“What are they all?” I asked, “they’re not labelled.”

“Can we find out?” Aunt Mary asked.

“I don’t know, I suppose a doctor could tell us, or a pharmacist,” I answered, “do you know one?”

“Only my GP and the man down at the local Lloyds Pharmacy,” she answered.

“I wonder if my Dad knows anybody,” I mused.

“If I know anybody who what?” he asked from the doorway.

“We were just looking at Cal’s medication, and couldn’t work out what any of it was,” I said, “we were wondering if one of your cronies was a doctor or chemist.”

“Tom Liptrot,” he replied, “he’s a pharmacist.”

“Can you ring him Dad, ask him if we can take these tablets over to be identified?”

“Of course,” he replied, “can I use your phone Mary?”

“Yes, James,” she replied, “feel free.”

A couple of minutes later, he finished the call and turned back to us.

“He’ll come over,” he said, “in about fifteen minutes.”

It was nearer twenty when the doorbell rang, and Dad went to let a middle aged, short, balding man in, carrying a small briefcase.

“Hi Tom,” he said, “this is our neighbour, Mary Warner, and her daughter, Calista, Cal to everybody. I think you know David.”

Tom said hello to everybody and turned back to my Dad.

“Right then,” he said, “where are these tablets you wanted me to take a look at?”

Mary took the Dossett box from the table and handed it to him and he opened it.

Tom took a while to examine each of the tablets, and as he finished, put each one down on the coffee table, by the time he’d gone through all the tablets, and occasionally looked something up in a loose-leaf binder he took from his briefcase, he had two small piles of tablets on the table. He stood up straight and gestured towards what to him were the left hand pile.

“Those,” he began, “are just standard, anti-depressants, tranquilisers and anti-seizure drugs, although I wouldn’t expect to ever see them prescribed together like this.”

“What about the others?” dad asked.

“Those are a completely different thing,” he answered, “this is tadalafil, not normally a drug given to patients of the female persuasion, since they don’t really have the parts necessary for it to stimulate. The other two, I have to tell you, shouldn’t be there.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aunt Mary asked.

“This one,” he held up a bright yellow and blue capsule, is not authorised for prescription in the UK, except in very closely monitored clinical trials, and the other one, is just plain outright banned.”

“Banned?” I asked.

“We call it the zombie drug in the trade,” he said. “if someone has been feeding these two to Cal, then they are in very deep trouble. One of them is only generally available as a compound to pharma companies, as a precursor to other compounds, and the other is so dangerous as to be unavailable to anyone. As far as I’m aware there isn’t a legal source of it anywhere in Europe.”

“Shit,” I said under my breath, but, apparently not low enough that my Dad couldn’t hear, he shot me a warning glance, “so basically someone’s been using Cal as a guinea pig?”

“Which hospital is she in?” Tom asked.

Mary told him, and he opened his folder again.

“No, there are no current pharmaceutical research projects there at the moment,” he said, “look folks, I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I’m going to have to report this to the Pharmaceutical Society, the BMA and probably the police will be involved too.”

“The police are already involved,” I said, quietly.

“Oh,” Tom replied, surprised.

Dad gave him a quick rundown of the situation without too many details.

“Then it looks like someone is using the situation to do some unofficial research and testing. Let me know if I can be of any help,” he said when Dad had finished, “but whatever happens, do not take her back to that hospital.”

He left then, after telling us not to give her any more of the right hand pile of tablets.

“I think we need to ring Sarah,” I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping pixie on my lap.

“Why don’t you carry her upstairs, David and I’ll come up and put her to bed?” Aunt Mary suggested.

I agreed and stood up. Cal shifted in my arms, and her arms went round my neck.

Once I got her upstairs to her bedroom, I laid her gently on her bed, and then I faced a problem. Far from letting go of my neck, she clung on tightly.

“Don’t go David,” she muttered, “stay with me please.”

“I’ll stay until you’re asleep, but then I’ll have to go. I’ll come back in the morning,” I said.

“Promise?” she asked.

“I promise,” I said.

“Can I have a goodnight kiss?” she asked.

I just nodded and lowered my lips to hers.

“Goodnight Cal,” I said softly, “sleep well.”

“Goodnight David,” she replied, her eyes closing, “my love.”

Once her breathing had become regular, I extricated myself and made my way back downstairs.

“She’s asleep,” I announced as I reached the living room.

“Did you undress her?” Mary asked.

“No, she’s still in her clothes, laid on the bed,” I answered.

“I’ll go up and sort her out later, thank you David,” she said before getting up and walking over to kiss me on the cheek, “she does still love you, you know.”

I just nodded.

“I’ve reached a decision,” Mary announced, “there is no way that Cal is going back to that place.”

“You know that they can send the police round to arrest her if she doesn’t?” Dad asked.

“Good,” I said, “and they’ll have to arrest me as well.”

“What?” both my Dad and Aunt Mary said together.

“Simple,” I said, “Dad, Aunt Mary, don’t think of me as David Barker, the boy next door, think of me as David J Barker, rising film star. What was it the Times film critic said, ‘A new star has arisen in the Hollywood firmament’. The police turning up to take Cal away wouldn’t even merit a mention in the local paper. However, rising film star David J Barker, being arrested for helping his next door neighbour abscond from detention, would make the national headlines. And when the said rising star tells his story, all hell will break loose.”

“So what are you going to do?” Dad asked me.

“Me?” I responded, “nothing. What I think Aunt Mary should do however, is ring the hospital and inform them that Cal will not be coming back. Tell them that we have evidence that the hospital has been deliberately feeding a patient illegal drugs, and that unless the chairman of the hospital trust rings her back within fifteen minutes, she’ll be ringing the police in sixteen. Then give them her number and hang up.”

“And what if they ring back. Tell them the same, and demand that they immediately release Cal from detention under section and start an internal investigation. Point out that both the BPS and the BMA have been informed.”

“And if they don’t agree, but insist that we take her back?” Mary asked.

“Then I have a contingency plan,” I said.

“What’s that?” my Dad asked.

“Better you don’t know Dad,” I replied, “but I’ll need money, lots of it. And Aunt Mary, I’ll need a bag packed for Cal with a week’s clothes and her passport.”

“David,” Aunt Mary said, “don’t do anything that would get you into trouble.”

“If getting into trouble is what it takes, “I answered, “then I’m going to be in as much trouble as necessary.”

“David,” my Dad growled, a menacing note in his voice.

“Dad,” I replied, “what are you always telling us kids about people who need our help?”

“You should always do all you can to help people.”

“And who’s your best friend in the world?”

“Your Mum?”

“And who would you move mountains to save?”

“My family.”

“Good then, we’re agreed, you’ll help me.”

Dad looked confused.

“David, you’ll probably be the death of me, but if it becomes necessary, I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Cal’s mother made the phone call, I have to say she performed marvellously on the phone, just the right amount of outrageous indignation, and when the person at the other end tried to complain that it was Christmas, and all they could do was make her an appointment to see a manager after the holiday, she merely repeated her phone number before saying “Fifteen minutes,” and hanging up.

Then we waited.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes passed.

“What do we do if they don’t ring?” Aunt Mary asked.

“Exactly what we said we’d do,” I replied.

Twelve minutes passed.

We sat in silence. Thirteen minutes passed.

The silence was broken by the ringing of the phone, Mary snatched it and presses the answer button.

“Mary Warner,” she announced, in her business’ voice.

She listened for a while.

“No, Mr. Parkinson, the simple fact is that my daughter will not be coming back to your hospital,” she said.

She listened again.

“Mr. Parkinson,” she said firmly, “we have the opinion of a respected pharmacist that at least two of the drugs you are feeding my daughter are not authorised for prescription, one of them is not even authorised for sale as an intermediary to the drug industry, and that even as we speak the matter is being reported to the Pharmaceutical Society, and the BMA.”

Again she listened.

“No, Mr. Parkinson, that is not acceptable, the only acceptable solution, is that you release my daughter from detention, suspend immediately, the doctor who prescribed these drugs, and launch, publicly, an investigation into your own trust. An independent investigation, not an internal one.”

She went silent again.

“We have professional help organised,” she said, “Dr. Sarah Green of St Mary’s hospital, Paddington.”

There was another silence while the man on the other end spoke.

“Well, I’m sorry but that’s not acceptable,” Mary said, “it’s your choice of either my way, or my other way, there is no alternative, under no circumstances will I allow anyone from your organisation to have unaccompanied access to my daughter.”

“That didn’t sound like it went too well,” Dad said, when she almost slammed the phone down in its cradle.

“The arrogance of the man,” she growled, “condescending as they come, called me ‘my dear’, told me that we’d have a chat about it when I bring Cal back. David, I don’t know what your plan is, but I suspect it has something to do with Cal disappearing, and, I presume, you along with her. Go for it.”

“I have things I need to do, calls I need to make,” I said and stood up to leave.

As I walked past her chair she caught my wrist.

“Just remember David, she is still ill, still vulnerable.”

I nodded assent.

“I know,” I said.

I walked back round to our house and straight up to my bedroom where I made the calls I needed to make and got myself ready for bed. My Dad came home just as I walked downstairs and beckoned me through to his study.

“Son,” he said, as we sat down at opposite sides of his desk, “I don’t have a clue what you’re planning to do, but don’t do anything that would ruin your own future.”

“I’m not going to give you any specifics, dad, but I intend to get her somewhere safe, where they can’t just knock on the door and take her away, then I’m going to let the Hollywood publicity machine loose on the story. In the meantime, Aunt Mary is going to report them to the police if they don’t discharge her.”

“So basically, you’re going to take her somewhere safe, then cause a big stink until they do something about it?”

“That’s about it,” I said.

“Mary explained the conversation she had, basically he said bring her back and we’ll look into any complaints you have then.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said flatly.

“Mary’s thought exactly,” Dad said, “what do you need from me?”

“I need you to transfer a very large sum of money to my debit card,” I replied, “I don’t know how long we’ll be away or how much it will cost, but I can’t involve anybody the authorities could trace me to. And I think it would be better if we do it first class.”

“Righto,” Dad said, “Mary will be round shortly to find out what she needs to pack for Cal.”

“Underwear, pyjamas, jeans and T-shirts, oh and maybe a couple of bikinis or swimsuits. And a couple of jackets, and some stuff to travel in. But that doesn’t need to be packed does it? And her toilet kit. Don’t overpack, we’ll buy things like shampoo while we’re away. Oh, and her medicines.”

“Just remember David, she’s very vulnerable and very fragile, don’t do anything stupid with her?”

“Do you honestly think I would dad?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, “But it makes me feel better to remind you.”

“Dad, I’m doing it for Cal, I hope I don’t have to do it, but it’s for Cal.”

“What’s changed son?” he asked.

“I saw, Dad, I saw what happened in Munich, when I looked in her eyes today.”

“Now, you’ve lost me, son,” dad said.

“When I kissed her hello today, I looked in her eyes, they were glazed and, well, dead. Because of the drugs. Exactly the same as she looked that night in Munich. They had her drugged Dad. She wasn’t with him out of choice, they had her drugged.”

“So you now accept that she didn’t cheat on you?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m absolutely convinced she didn’t. Oh, she was silly going to the first party with him, and letting him feed her alcohol, but she was fifteen and away from home on her own for the first time, she just made a bad choice.”

Dad looked at me.

“Who are you and what have you done with my son?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I replied, “he was just enhanced by this last year.”

He laughed.

“Go on, son, get some sleep. You look like you could do with it.”

I nodded.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I said.

“Goodnight son.”

 

I woke on Christmas morning to something unusual, snow. We had a white Christmas. Now my family, I will admit, are atheists, we don’t do the gods thing. But when we were kids, we all did the letter to Santa thing, and my sister and I were both devastated when Andy told us there was no Santa. All right, I confess, Andy told me, it was me that told Alison, that’s what big brothers are for. But despite our lack of belief, we still leave a glass of sherry out for Santa and a carrot for Rudolf, and we still hang up stockings.

And we still feel that frisson of excitement as we wake up on Christmas morning to find out what we’ve been left. Even though we all know that Santa looks incredibly like our dad.

This year though, I wasn’t too bothered about presents, I had other things on my mind. Like how to get my ex-girlfriend, the love of my life safely out of the country and out of the clutches of what I thought of as some mad scientist, who was feeding her drugs, some of them illegally while she was an in-patient at our local mental health hospital. Keep her safe and make her whole, was my aim. Some plans I already had in place, I knew where we were going, and when. I just had to work out how, and what we’d do when we got there.

But for now, it was Christmas Day.

My sister was first up, and she had the coffee maker going and the kettle on when I walked into the kitchen.

“Hi Pip,” I said, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head, “what did he who does not exist not bring you for Christmas?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked,” she replied.

“What!” I exclaimed, “I’m incredulous, you haven’t looked?”

Normally by this time, she had all her presents unwrapped and sorted.

“No, I thought I’d wait until everybody was up.”

“I’d better get Mum,” I said, “you’re obviously ill.”

“Maybe I’m just maturing,” she replied.

“Definitely ill.”

Before long the parents came down and Mum busied herself making breakfast.

“Did Andy manage to find his way home last night?” I asked, conversationally.

“No, he was staying over at Jean’s,”

“Oh,” I said, my eyebrows heading for the ceiling.

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” Mum said, “her father is a vicar.”

Breakfast was good, Mum always pulls out all the stops on Christmas morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, mushrooms, black pudding, hash browns, fried bread and loads of toast. Three different kinds of bread. Marmalade, homemade jam and of course, lots and lots of Marmite.

By the time we were finished we were all stuffed, and Alison and I were ‘volunteered’ to clear up.

Then Mum, with some assistance from my sister, and Dad on vegetable peeling duty started on Christmas dinner.

Unlike most families we know we don’t have our Christmas dinner until teatime, hence the big breakfast, so the cooking detail had plenty of time to get things ready. I, in the meantime went upstairs, booted up my laptop and made a few more calls. Oh, and I packed.

Since I was the only one who knew where we were going, if indeed we were going at all, I knew what I needed to pack.

Packing took me half an hour. Laptop, two days’ worth of clothes, toiletries and a book in my rucksack and an assortment of T-shirts, undies, shorts, socks and two pairs of jeans in my suitcase. Anything else I’d buy on the move.

All packed up, and calls made, I ventured downstairs to see if I could help out. Everything was under control, so I ventured next door. Cal and her Mum were sat in the living room watching TV.

“David!” Cal exclaimed as I walked in, “Mum says you and I may be going on a holiday together.”

She ran across the room and enveloped me in a hug.

“I hope so,” I replied, “it depends on whether I can get the tickets.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, “please. But what about the hospital?”

“You won’t be going back there, darling,” her Mum answered.

“No?” she asked, “have the doctors said I’m better?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“Where are we going, David?” Cal asked.

“I don’t know yet, it depends where I can get a booking, but we’re going tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, lovely,” she said, “I hope it’s somewhere warm.”

“I promise you it will be somewhere nice,” I said.

“Will it be by the sea?” she asked

“I don’t know, it depends on what the agent can find me this quickly,” I answered.

“Okay,” she said, “thank you David,” and she reached up and touched my cheek, her eyes still glazed.

“Shall we all go round to your house?” Aunt Mary asked, “see if your Mum wants some help in the kitchen.”

Cal took my hand to walk round, on the way she looked at me and smiled. The first smile I’d seen from her in months.

 

Chapter 4

Christmas dinner went well, a mix of goose and ham, with mashed and roast potatoes, carrots, peas and sprouts, followed by Christmas pudding.

Cal came out of her shell a little, particularly when she was talking with Alison, her best friend. She was also very vocal on the fact that I was going to take her on holiday, which I would, frankly, have preferred her to keep to herself. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell. Not that I was afraid that if it came down to it, our families would betray us, but I didn’t want to put them in that position.

By the time we finished dinner, and handed out presents, it was after ten, and Aunt Mary had not heard anything from the hospital.

“Right then,” I said as she and Cal prepared to leave at ten thirty, “I’ll order a taxi for nine o’clock tomorrow morning, Cal, you and I are going on holiday together.”

“Oh, that will be nice,” Cal responded, “how long for?”

“Until we decide to come back,” I replied.

“Oh, but I’ve only packed a few things,” she answered.

“We can get things laundered,” I explained, “and anything else we need we’ll buy.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “how will you afford it?”

“I made a few quid from my film,” I replied, “we’ll be all right.”

“All right David, if you say so,” she answered.

I was touched by her simple faith in me. I just hoped I could justify it.

I was up the next morning at six thirty, making last minute preparations, checking my passport and things. Dad found me in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“Are you sure about this son?” he asked.

“Do you see any way of the police not turning up and taking her away after we don’t take her back?” I asked.

“No, I don’t son,” he replied, “but at the same time you’re taking a huge risk. You know you could end up in jail?”

“Yes,” I said, more solemnly than I intended.

“And it doesn’t worry you?”

“Of course it worries me Dad,” I answered, “just not as much as what might happen if Cal went back.”

“You really do love that girl don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” I said, “there was a time when I might have answered ‘You really do love mum don’t you?’, but right now, I don’t know whether I can see her in the old, together forever, way. Oh, I think I’ll always love her, come what may, I’m just not sure that she’s the one any more.”

“David,” Dad began, “I, your Mum and I want you to know how immensely proud of you we are.”

He passed me a wallet, and a paper bag across the table.

“What’s these?” I asked.

“A couple of things that might be useful while you’re away,” he replied.

The wallet contained a visa debit card, and Andy Skillington’s number.

“Thanks Dad,” I said, holding up the card.

“It’s pre-paid and anonymous, there’s fifty thousand on it. I’ll keep an eye on the balance and top it up as needed. Remember that Andy’s your solicitor. Any conversation that you have with him is privileged. The police can’t force him to reveal what you said. Or where you said it from.”

A secure way of communicating with home.

“Mary’s also appointed him to handle the hospital for Cal, so he’s her lawyer as well.”

I opened the paper bag. Inside were six condoms. Six flavoured condoms.

I looked at my Dad quizzically.

“Don’t go there son,” he said menacingly.

“I don’t think they’ll be needed Dad, but thanks.”

“We don’t want any more little accidents,” he said, “be safe.”

“Don’t worry Dad,” I assured him, “we’ll be all right.”

“Son, one day you’ll be a parent. Possibly years from now, and you’ll sit across the kitchen table from your teenage child, and that child will say Don’t worry Dad, we’ll be all right. And it will be just as effective as sitting on the beach and telling the tide not to come in.”

“Okay Dad,” I responded, “worry.”

“We will.”

“But we’ll be all right,” I said.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where you’re going?” he asked.

“I thought maybe the South Pacific,” I replied.

“I thought not.”

“You can’t get into trouble for not telling what you don’t know Dad. That’s why I’ve ordered a taxi rather than letting you take us to the station.”

“So you’re taking a train from Leeds?”

“We might be. Or Wakefield, or Sheffield. They both have good connections to other parts of the country.”

He smiled at me, realising what I was doing. Giving him enough information so that if it came to it, he was co-operating with the police, but didn’t give them any useful information.

The rest of the family got up, allegedly for breakfast, but I assumed it was to see us off. Including to my surprise, Andy, and Jean. Jean the vicar’s daughter. The most surprising thing is, she’d stayed the night, and nobody had slept on the living room sofa. I looked at my parents with renewed respect.

At eight thirty we all traipsed next door to meet Cal, who was sat in the living room, with a suitcase and backpack, waiting for me.

After a quick kiss on the cheek, I sat down beside her and she immediately took my hand, looked at me and smiled. Just a small smile, not the huge happy radiant one I remembered, but a smile.

We all chatted amiably for a while, until we were interrupted by the honking of a horn outside, our taxi had arrived.

As Cal and I loaded our bags into the boot and then climbed into the car, I told the driver, “Bus station please.”

Ten minutes later, he dropped us at the bus station and we caught the first bus of the day, to Garforth. We got off the bus at East Garforth Station and caught a train to York, paying cash for the tickets as we had for the bus. At York, I went into the ticket office and booked two tickets to London, first class, on the next train. This time I used the card that Dad had given me.

There’s a mobile phone shop on York station, and I used the time before the train to go in there and buy us two pay as you go phones and put credit on them. I’d taken the time first to get some money and paid cash. I’d bought identical phones to the ones we already had, Nokia, and switched the batteries in the new ones for the fully charged batteries in the old ones, then put the old ones, switched off into my suitcase. As soon as I’d done that I made my first phone call and reported that we’d be in London at twelve fifteen, King’s Cross station.

When the train arrived, I was surprised, but happy to see that we were the only two passengers in our coach, coach K.

“This is nice,” Cal said, as she settled into the soft seat, “but should we be spending this much money?”

“Cal,” I replied, “By tonight the police will probably be looking for us. But by then we’ll be six miles up in the air. They’re looking for two fifteen year old schoolkids. They won’t be looking at first class. First stop is London, where we’re going to see a friend of mine. Actually two of them, one is a doctor, the one your Mum spoke to yesterday. She’s going to fix us up with some proper medicines for you. She’ll have her daughter with her. Cindy is a nice girl, and a big fan of mine, or rather Greg Paradise.”

Just after the train left Doncaster, the steward came round with coffee and tea, which we gratefully accepted, but turned down food.

After Doncaster it was non-stop all the way to King’s Cross, where we arrived, two minutes early.

As we walked off the platform and onto the concourse, I spotted them, Sarah and Cindy, and led Cal over to where they were stood waiting. After the obligatory introductions and cheek kisses, we adjourned to the station eatery.

Sarah immediately went into doctor mode and started asking Cal questions. Cindy sat across from me.

“Barker’s Babes all think it’s very romantic what you’re doing,” she said by way of introduction.

“Barker’s babes?” I asked.

“The unofficial David J Barker fan club. Just me and some of the girls at the moment. But we’re going to run a campaign on social media. Start putting out rumours about what you’re doing and why. If that’s all right with you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “of course. But Barker’s Babes?”

“We have a couple of other names if you don’t like that one,” she said.

“What are they?” I asked.

“There’s Greg’s Girls,” she replied.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Or some of the girls’ favourite. Paradise Pussies.”

“Absolutely no. Barker’s Babes it is. And if you’re going to do that, maybe you should be the official fan club.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes and thank you.”

I took a sheet from the notebook in my pocket and wrote my home phone number on it.

“Ring my Dad, tell him you’ve spoken to me, and tell him what you need to set the fan club up properly and he’ll sort it out for you.”

“You mean it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “you are now the official chairman, er person, of the official David J Barker fan club.”

Her smile was worth whatever it would cost.

Sarah and Cal finished their conversation.

“Well doctor?” I asked.

“You know I can’t discuss patients with others, David,” she said, “but if we were talking hypothetically, about a fictional patient, then let’s say that this patient had undergone some emotional trauma. Say she’d lost the boy she loved because of some unspecified event while she was away at a summer school. Let’s say she suffered another trauma, which later caused her a heart problem and a loss of memory. Then I’d think it was pretty normal for such a person to be depressed. But treatable. What this person would need would be a caring friend that she could talk to. And some chemical assistance, let’s say an anti-depressant, a beta blocker for the heart problem and an anti-coagulant to help stave off any risk of a stroke. And perhaps a nice relaxing holiday.”

As she finished she pulled out a prescription pad, wrote on it and signed it.

“Under those circumstances I’d probably hand this to the friend and tell them both to have a nice time. Always assuming there was such a person.”

She tore the prescription off the pad and handed it to me.

“I’d also advise this hypothetical friend to find a therapist when he gets to wherever he would be taking her, but my professional opinion would be that in this case, what the patient needed is just a little TLC, and rest. I think that given that, the patient’s memory will come back too, with time.”

Cindy started talking to Cal, and Sarah leaned in close to me.

“You may notice signs of opiate withdrawal, yawning, sweating, runny nose, it will pass, just give her plenty of fluids, put her to bed and let her ride it out. Don’t let her have any other drugs than the ones on the prescription, and David.”

“Yes?” I said.

“Good luck, wherever you take her. Cindy and the girls are planning an internet campaign to highlight what you’re doing.”

We said goodbye, and Cal and I picked up our bags and took a taxi to Paddington. At Paddington I bought us two tickets on the Heathrow Express, and we went to the platform, where the train was waiting for the twenty minutes or so journey to the airport.

In terminal three, I presented our passports and my debit card in exchange for two first class tickets to Los Angeles International, then we went and joined the check in queue.

Twenty minutes later we were through security, our suitcases checked in and looking for somewhere to eat. But first, there was a Boots chemist in the terminal and I got the prescription filled.

I used our boarding cards to get us entry into the first class lounge, it was one of the joys of flying first class, although nearly seven thousand pounds took some of the joy away.

“We’re going to Los Angeles?” Cal asked.

“Initially, yes,” I responded, “we’ll meet some of our friends out there.”

She looked at me, her head tilted slightly to one side.

“Millie,” she said, “there’s a girl called Millie there, your friend, our age. I was jealous, I thought that you, and she, were, you know.”

“No, we were friends, Cal,” I replied, “just friends, that’s all.”

“Will we meet Millie?” she asked.

“Would you like to?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “yes, I think I would.”

Our flight was called, and, being first class, we boarded first.

I don’t think Cal even knew what first class meant. Individual seats, cubicles really, that let down into a completely flat bed. Personal DVD players, comfort packs, pyjamas with the airline logo, and first class on the breast pocket. Twelve seats in the first class compartment, all taken. Because we’d booked late, we couldn’t sit together, but I promised her that as soon as the seat belt sign went off, I’d come and sit with her. She was in seat one, I was in seven.

“How long is the flight?” she asked me, as I helped her strap herself in.

That was a preview of Teen Dreams Book 2. To read the rest purchase the book.

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