foolish,ridiculous, a totally crap idea â gave him the sweats, but he sat through South Ken and Gloucester Road and by the time the train stopped at Earlâs Court he was back in charge. So what if it was foolish, ridiculous and crap? It wasnât
wrong
, and that, in the end, was what counted.
As the tube pulled into Northfields, with only eight stations to go, Adam felt the tension building again. He was about to get on a plane and fly who knew how many thousands of miles to a place where he knew no one â didnât even know where he was going to
stay
, for chrissake â and basically go missing. What if his parents didnât buy into the idea that heâd buggered off with his girlfriend (who they didnât know) and they freaked out? Heâd just be causing them more hassle and heartache.
At Hounslow West he actually got up, ready to exit the train, determined that he was going to catch the next eastbound tube, but as the doors opened he remembered his mumâs face, remembered that part of her was beginning to believe Charlie was dead, and the fact that all his dad had been able to do so far was visit the Foreign Office. Heâd sat back down before the doors had closed and he stayed where he was until the train rolled to a halt at the Heathrow Terminals 1, 2 and 3 stop. This was it.
Adam thought, as he got off the train and started the walk up to the check-in desks, that his mind was made up. No more backtracking, he was going to go to Tokyo. But then he checked his watch, again, saw he actually still had fifteen minutes till he
had
to check-in and found himself veering off to a coffee shop and ordering a cappuccino he didnât really want. What he wanted was fifteen more minutesâ grace, until there were no more chances to changehis mind. As soon as his backpack was tagged and checked in, his last exit would absolutely and finally be closed.
Next stop would be passport control, then X-ray, then airside.
He sat on a high stool at a small, round table and watched the ebb and flow of people, like ants in a nest, all with destinations, all with reasons of their own why they were here. Some were probably running away â without telling anybody where they were going â from something or someone; others were possibly going off to begin a new life, maybe even in a place theyâd never been to before, but he doubted any of the people he was watching were as alone as he was right then. He even allowed himself to admit that he was scared and, having let that thought loose, he was puzzled but happy to find that he felt better now he no longer had to physically make himself ignore the fact.
At five minutes to eleven he got up, left his hardly touched coffee and walked towards the snaking queue that would take him inexorably to one of the ladies sitting under a sign announcing Virgin Atlantic VS900 Tokyo.
âIs that it, sir, one item of luggage?â
âAnd this.â Adam held up the small bag heâd brought with him; while waiting in the queue, heâd taken it out of his backpack and loaded it with his mp3 player, sunglasses, spare batteries, passport, e-ticket, money and the Rough Guide.
âFine, sir.â The woman smiled. âDid you pack this bag yourself?â Adam nodded. âWas it out of your sight at any time?â Adam shook his head. âDid anyone give you anything to take with you?â
âNo, nothing.â
The woman printed out a baggage ticket, attached it to the backpack and then sent it off into the bowels of Heathrow. Adam realised the next time he saw it heâd be in Japan. Still sweaty-palmed from when heâd had to hand over the credit card heâd used to pay for the ticket online â the check-in lady had hardly glanced at it â his stomach now felt like it was a negative space, like everything had been sucked out of it.
âFlightâs quite full, sir, but you can have the choice of a couple of
wrong
, and that, in the end, was what counted.
As the tube pulled into Northfields, with only eight stations to go, Adam felt the tension building again. He was about to get on a plane and fly who knew how many thousands of miles to a place where he knew no one â didnât even know where he was going to
stay
, for chrissake â and basically go missing. What if his parents didnât buy into the idea that heâd buggered off with his girlfriend (who they didnât know) and they freaked out? Heâd just be causing them more hassle and heartache.
At Hounslow West he actually got up, ready to exit the train, determined that he was going to catch the next eastbound tube, but as the doors opened he remembered his mumâs face, remembered that part of her was beginning to believe Charlie was dead, and the fact that all his dad had been able to do so far was visit the Foreign Office. Heâd sat back down before the doors had closed and he stayed where he was until the train rolled to a halt at the Heathrow Terminals 1, 2 and 3 stop. This was it.
Adam thought, as he got off the train and started the walk up to the check-in desks, that his mind was made up. No more backtracking, he was going to go to Tokyo. But then he checked his watch, again, saw he actually still had fifteen minutes till he
had
to check-in and found himself veering off to a coffee shop and ordering a cappuccino he didnât really want. What he wanted was fifteen more minutesâ grace, until there were no more chances to changehis mind. As soon as his backpack was tagged and checked in, his last exit would absolutely and finally be closed.
Next stop would be passport control, then X-ray, then airside.
He sat on a high stool at a small, round table and watched the ebb and flow of people, like ants in a nest, all with destinations, all with reasons of their own why they were here. Some were probably running away â without telling anybody where they were going â from something or someone; others were possibly going off to begin a new life, maybe even in a place theyâd never been to before, but he doubted any of the people he was watching were as alone as he was right then. He even allowed himself to admit that he was scared and, having let that thought loose, he was puzzled but happy to find that he felt better now he no longer had to physically make himself ignore the fact.
At five minutes to eleven he got up, left his hardly touched coffee and walked towards the snaking queue that would take him inexorably to one of the ladies sitting under a sign announcing Virgin Atlantic VS900 Tokyo.
âIs that it, sir, one item of luggage?â
âAnd this.â Adam held up the small bag heâd brought with him; while waiting in the queue, heâd taken it out of his backpack and loaded it with his mp3 player, sunglasses, spare batteries, passport, e-ticket, money and the Rough Guide.
âFine, sir.â The woman smiled. âDid you pack this bag yourself?â Adam nodded. âWas it out of your sight at any time?â Adam shook his head. âDid anyone give you anything to take with you?â
âNo, nothing.â
The woman printed out a baggage ticket, attached it to the backpack and then sent it off into the bowels of Heathrow. Adam realised the next time he saw it heâd be in Japan. Still sweaty-palmed from when heâd had to hand over the credit card heâd used to pay for the ticket online â the check-in lady had hardly glanced at it â his stomach now felt like it was a negative space, like everything had been sucked out of it.
âFlightâs quite full, sir, but you can have the choice of a couple of
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