Dad was nodding his head.
Dad I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry. Dad…
Dad put his arm round Murdo’s shoulder. Dont worry, he said.
I’m so so sorry.
Dont worry.
They stood for several moments; Murdo gazing at the floor, shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets and it was like he couldnay raise his head, not able to look at Dad, he felt so bad like just going away forever, just forever.
Take it easy, said Dad. He patted Murdo on the shoulder. Ye okay?
Yeah.
They’ll be disappointed.
I’m so sorry.
Dont worry. If ye change yer mind…we’ll, be another half hour. Okay?
Murdo nodded.
Dad left the room and it was over. Everything. Murdo listened to his footsteps.
Aunt Maureen would be upset especially. But so would Uncle John. Dad was going but, that was something. They wouldnt have to worry either like how sometimes Murdo and Dad like if they werent talking or there was bad feeling between them. Without Murdo it wasnt a worry.
But he didnt want to see them right away, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. Soon after he heard the 4x4 doors slamming shut and rushed upstairs, but they were still packing stuff into the boot. Uncle John called to him: Alright son!
Yeah, thanks.
Uncle John smiled, he continued the packing. Murdo went between the door from the dining area into the patio and the driveway outside the house, helping Dad pass him various bags and items. At one point Dad seemed irritated but maybe he wasnt. Aunt Maureen arrived with her last two bags which she put in on the floor by the rear passenger seat, then made to enter. She looked twice when she saw him. Hey Murdo! she said. She brandished her right fist: You’ll wish you had come!
Murdo smiled.
Dad said nothing but was looking straight at Murdo. Uncle John walked to the driver’s door. Now Dad looked set to say something but didnt.
Murdo returned the look, before shifting stance. He folded his arms. Dad walked to the front passenger side and pulled open the door. Uncle John gave Murdo a short salute: Be midnight the time we’re home Murdo boy. If we’re staying on we’ll phone.
We’ll phone either way, said Dad.
Murdo nodded.
Aunt Maureen had opened the rear passenger window. You know where there’s food son huh!
Yeah.
Dont burn the house down! Uncle John chuckled.
Dad was inside now, and closed the door. Murdo walked forwards. Once Uncle John had switched on the engine Dad let down the window to say, Don’t lock yerself out. Whatever ye do!
No.
I mean if ye go out a walk.
Murdo nodded. Have a good time, he said, then stepped back.
The 4x4 pulled outside onto the street. Murdo walked to the side then behind, waving, then returned up the driveway. He watched the car until it disappeared round the bend towards the main road. He stood there an extra moment. Maybe they would have forgotten something. The longer they didnt show the more unlikely it was.
How much distance does a car travel in five minutes? Thirty miles an hour is fifteen for a half hour, is seven and a half for fifteen, is five for two and a half: two and a half miles in five minutes.
Murdo returned downstairs and sorted through his clothes and essentials, packing quickly. Past eight o’clock and he needed to move fast. The buses was the problem. The thing with America was how big it was. Ye dont think that until ye see it on the Road Atlas book pages and work out the time it takes to get from place to place. Jackson looked quite near but it was hours away passing through Birmingham then change up to Allentown, he would have to change someplace. A car would go faster because ye could choose yer roads and drive as long as ye wanted without having to stop at wee towns to let people off and on, or else change buses. He packed the two CDs, the USA Road Atlas plus a book for reading.
That was him now. He lifted his jacket, had a last look round then went upstairs to the bathroom. Would he need a towel? Yes but the one Aunt Maureen had given him took up a lot of space. He went into her linen cupboard and lifted a small one for hands.
He knew where Dad kept the emergency money. Six hundred dollars. Murdo took four $50 notes which was the very very minimum. Everything depended. $200 was not enough if he didnt get any lifts and had to pay full bus-fares there and back. Plus accordeon. But he couldnt take anything more.
From the fridge he used the cheese and cold meat to make four sandwiches. Aunt Maureen wouldnt worry. She would be glad he took it. As many slices as necessary. He gathered some fruit together and found her store of brown paperbags.
Next was Aunt Maureen’s notepad to write a letter to her and Uncle John, and one to Dad too, just apologising and saying about the gig, and he would be back on Sunday but would phone and not to worry. Then the telephone rang, it kept ringing. Murdo walked to the hallway but didnt lift it. Maybe Dad from Uncle John’s cell phone. Probably it was. Jeesoh. It rang again. He went to lift it this time but left it, he just left it. He couldnt speak to anybody. When he checked the time it was after half past eight. How many miles was that?
Maybe he should have answered the phone. So now they would worry. If it was Dad. Maybe it wasnt, but if it was. If it was he would worry. He would ask Uncle John to turn back, to see things were okay. He would need to. That was Dad, that is what he would do. No he wouldnt. Maybe, maybe he would. Murdo wrote down the telephone number and house address in the back page of the Road Atlas book, and again on a scrap of notepaper which he put into the rucksack, and a third time on another scrap of notepaper which he stuck into his jeans pocket.
He positioned the two letters on the kitchen counter, propped up against mugs. He checked the patio door was locked and drew the curtains, then last call to the bathroom, last look round the house. He opened the front door. Nothing else. He stepped outside and closed it.
The street was quiet. Murdo walked quickly to the corner and all the way along past the red-brick church, and to the bus-stop on the main road.
He was the only one there. Five minutes and a bus arrived. The doors opened and he stepped up, and held coins at the ready. The driver ignored him. The doors closed and the driver continued to ignore him, then jerked his thumb back the way. So Murdo was not to pay money, or what? The driver accelerated, still ignoring him. Grumpy drivers, that was like home. Murdo walked to the nearest empty seat. Only two other people were on the bus but more got on eventually, and a few who looked like students.
The bus went right into the downtown area. Murdo ate a banana while crossing the road to the bus station. On a wall inside was a large map marked with the main bus routes which he studied, working it out the best way, tied into the route to Allentown, Mississippi.
He was prepared for expensive tickets but it was extortionate, and even more extortionate if he had gone west to begin with. The trouble there was keeping sideways rather than going north to Memphis; he did not want to go back there. It felt like bad luck or something; although what was luck, ye make yer own in this life. People said that.
FIVE
South of Birmingham the bus was fulclass="underline" he sat on the aisle seat. On the inside was a wee thin guy. What age? Thirties maybe, worrying about whatever and looking agitated. Something bad was going to happen! He hardly noticed Murdo at all, he had his phone out, scrolling down, checking messages, scrolling down. Then he put it away and brought it back out again, then kept it in his hand and stared out the window.