Escape From This
Train To Spain
Lottie sang in a Spanish accent, captivating nobody at all. The journey, that should have lasted eight hours, had lasted twenty.
Gatwick to Bordeaux. The Shuttle had taken them as far as Pau before inexplicably stopping. Telephone calls back to England had had to be made, not without a few stern demands to turn around and come back. Nonetheless, progress to the border carried on. Cab for sixteen. Not inexpensive.
The Eureska Bus Service had carried them to rain lashed Pamplona and the Nanette Cart from there and then a train at Zaragoza promised to deliver them all almost the rest of the way.
The accent was the worst part, Russell had thought to himself as the train inched on, regarding the aged, dusty countryside with derision. Graham, Alexander, Eleanor, Jim, and Lee were still softly playing cards, all too tetchy to make conversation anymore. Miriam was glued to a copy of Special Topics In Calamity Physics Eleanor had lent her whilst Philip had made a considerable dent in The Way By Swann’s.
Christopher, Eve and Nathan were all draped around one another fast asleep, their heads moving roughly in time with one another as the train trekked through the dust bowl of Toleredo. Lucas was plugged into his iPod, his eyes half on the gloomy view, half on Eve’s chest.
The minutes heaved the hours after them, the time dragging like a well wisher. Marcus, Hannah and Mel were still trying to decide whose bag the stash should be kept in for when they would make their way out of the train station and Lottie kept up the singing, sentimentally and spinelessly.
It was the furthest the sixteen of them had gone unaccompanied by an adult with passports in tow.
The tiny Spanish town of Mora awaited them; theirs to conquer; to vomit upon; to litter and terrorise, and, most importantly, within which to make merry and fuck about in. For two months now this escapade had been organised, almost forgotten about, and then dragged up again by Lottie and Eleanor who both insisted that Russell get the send off he deserved before he set off to explore South America.
It was just a shame that he didn’t really want it.
Russell stared out of the train window, playing a game with his eyes, treating his gaze like a player leaping from the unkempt indigo grape myrtle trees to electric pylons to other dusty, less splendid, plant life.
He still had the alibi map in his jacket pocket. Earlier on in the journey he had got it out and pretended to be engrossed in the channel between Madagascar and Africa but it had worn thin after a while. It wasn’t convincing and, even behind a map, there was no escaping the burn of Lottie’s eyes on his person. Even when she wasn’t looking directly at him, he was aware of her parasitical, brazen attention scorching his skin.
Russell sighed, holding one thumb between the other and a finger and stroking it, wishing that one of the number would break his sullen reverie. But no one came through and he was left to contemplate alone about what he would miss when he left their company for good.
His family, the assortment of close friends and hangers on surrounding him on the creeping engine, were delighted to have him going away to explore the rest of the earth, to bring them back anecdotes and stories, for him to parade around European capitals wit newh intense, fresh friendships made and spent in a matter of days. A metamorphosis from bohemian traveller into worldly, Odyssian figure was to be the final, somewhat ambitious, target of his trip as far as everyone was concerned. Odysseus travelled for ten years to return to Ithaca. It was unlikely that Russell could aspire to such greatness but it was also unlikely, as it stood, that he would ever make it home again either.
As Russell sat in apoplexy, his decision and options weighing like electricity tipped see saws, Lottie’s knees reached out to him. Her song had eventually burnt itself out but she remained fixated on his form. Urges constantly fought and beaten back to their bench. But how not to love him? And for what reason? Lottie had not been deterred by his ‘girlfriend’. After all, nobody had ever met the girl and Lottie was certain, much to her giddy delight, that Russell had remained single for the entirety of his teenage years so far.
That day, only a few weeks ago now but still so significant in her head, had given her all the information she needed when it came down to Russell. She had driven to Eleanor’s house to pick her up for a trip to the Claret Centre where a rainy afternoon was to be spent window shopping from under a ridiculously large umbrella and then onto the pictures. But Eleanor had had to drop off a photography album at Russell’s house first.
When they got there though, there was nobody at home and Eleanor had, rather uncomfortably, mentioned that there was a way in round the back. Lottie immediately persuaded her into walking behind the house to go in that way to which Eleanor reluctantly agreed.
Once inside, Eleanor immediately had been called by her boyfriend Charlie and stepped into the kitchen to answer it, whilst Lottie quickly made her way upstairs to have a good look at Russell’s bedroom.
Blackened wood and emerald green sheets struck Lottie first of all. Simple yet ever so elegant, thought Lottie approvingly, never thinking that Russell might not have decorated himself.
It was then her gaze fell on the bare surfaces on top of the chest of drawers and the sparse state of the shelves. One of the wardrobe doors had been left open and as Lottie peered cautiously inside, it was obvious that Russell had either been brought up on minimalism or had recently got rid of almost all his stuff.
Lottie frowned as she continued to stare around the room.
The rucksack hanging from the end of the bed, a couple of books sticking out from under the bed. Finally, Lottie turned her attention to the calendar propped up against the wall on the floor.
Days of black crosses were all leading up to the end of the holiday, when Russell would begin his own travelling, a day which had been circled repeatedly with a childish smiley face, with the remaining days of the month scribbled out.
Lottie suddenly observed something rather odd. Squatting down next to the calendar, she noted that the highlighted day was not, in fact, the day that Russell was to start his journey but a couple of days into their own trip to Spain.
Eleanor had then disturbed her, chiding her for coming upstairs and pushing Lottie quickly out of the house and Lottie spent the rest of the day in a puzzled daze, wondering what the significance of this day could be.
*
Gatwick to Bordeaux. The Shuttle had taken them as far as Pau before inexplicably stopping. Telephone calls back to England had had to be made, not without a few stern demands to turn around and come back. Nonetheless, progress to the border carried on. Cab for sixteen. Not inexpensive.
The Eureska Bus Service had carried them to rain lashed Pamplona and the Nanette Cart from there and then a train at Zaragoza promised to deliver them all almost the rest of the way.
The accent was the worst part, Russell had thought to himself as the train inched on, regarding the aged, dusty countryside with derision. Graham, Alexander, Eleanor, Jim, and Lee were still softly playing cards, all too tetchy to make conversation anymore. Miriam was glued to a copy of Special Topics In Calamity Physics Eleanor had lent her whilst Philip had made a considerable dent in The Way By Swann’s.
Christopher, Eve and Nathan were all draped around one another fast asleep, their heads moving roughly in time with one another as the train trekked through the dust bowl of Toleredo. Lucas was plugged into his iPod, his eyes half on the gloomy view, half on Eve’s chest.
The minutes heaved the hours after them, the time dragging like a well wisher. Marcus, Hannah and Mel were still trying to decide whose bag the stash should be kept in for when they would make their way out of the train station and Lottie kept up the singing, sentimentally and spinelessly.
It was the furthest the sixteen of them had gone unaccompanied by an adult with passports in tow.
The tiny Spanish town of Mora awaited them; theirs to conquer; to vomit upon; to litter and terrorise, and, most importantly, within which to make merry and fuck about in. For two months now this escapade had been organised, almost forgotten about, and then dragged up again by Lottie and Eleanor who both insisted that Russell get the send off he deserved before he set off to explore South America.
It was just a shame that he didn’t really want it.
Russell stared out of the train window, playing a game with his eyes, treating his gaze like a player leaping from the unkempt indigo grape myrtle trees to electric pylons to other dusty, less splendid, plant life.
He still had the alibi map in his jacket pocket. Earlier on in the journey he had got it out and pretended to be engrossed in the channel between Madagascar and Africa but it had worn thin after a while. It wasn’t convincing and, even behind a map, there was no escaping the burn of Lottie’s eyes on his person. Even when she wasn’t looking directly at him, he was aware of her parasitical, brazen attention scorching his skin.
Russell sighed, holding one thumb between the other and a finger and stroking it, wishing that one of the number would break his sullen reverie. But no one came through and he was left to contemplate alone about what he would miss when he left their company for good.
His family, the assortment of close friends and hangers on surrounding him on the creeping engine, were delighted to have him going away to explore the rest of the earth, to bring them back anecdotes and stories, for him to parade around European capitals wit newh intense, fresh friendships made and spent in a matter of days. A metamorphosis from bohemian traveller into worldly, Odyssian figure was to be the final, somewhat ambitious, target of his trip as far as everyone was concerned. Odysseus travelled for ten years to return to Ithaca. It was unlikely that Russell could aspire to such greatness but it was also unlikely, as it stood, that he would ever make it home again either.
As Russell sat in apoplexy, his decision and options weighing like electricity tipped see saws, Lottie’s knees reached out to him. Her song had eventually burnt itself out but she remained fixated on his form. Urges constantly fought and beaten back to their bench. But how not to love him? And for what reason? Lottie had not been deterred by his ‘girlfriend’. After all, nobody had ever met the girl and Lottie was certain, much to her giddy delight, that Russell had remained single for the entirety of his teenage years so far.
That day, only a few weeks ago now but still so significant in her head, had given her all the information she needed when it came down to Russell. She had driven to Eleanor’s house to pick her up for a trip to the Claret Centre where a rainy afternoon was to be spent window shopping from under a ridiculously large umbrella and then onto the pictures. But Eleanor had had to drop off a photography album at Russell’s house first.
When they got there though, there was nobody at home and Eleanor had, rather uncomfortably, mentioned that there was a way in round the back. Lottie immediately persuaded her into walking behind the house to go in that way to which Eleanor reluctantly agreed.
Once inside, Eleanor immediately had been called by her boyfriend Charlie and stepped into the kitchen to answer it, whilst Lottie quickly made her way upstairs to have a good look at Russell’s bedroom.
Blackened wood and emerald green sheets struck Lottie first of all. Simple yet ever so elegant, thought Lottie approvingly, never thinking that Russell might not have decorated himself.
It was then her gaze fell on the bare surfaces on top of the chest of drawers and the sparse state of the shelves. One of the wardrobe doors had been left open and as Lottie peered cautiously inside, it was obvious that Russell had either been brought up on minimalism or had recently got rid of almost all his stuff.
Lottie frowned as she continued to stare around the room.
The rucksack hanging from the end of the bed, a couple of books sticking out from under the bed. Finally, Lottie turned her attention to the calendar propped up against the wall on the floor.
Days of black crosses were all leading up to the end of the holiday, when Russell would begin his own travelling, a day which had been circled repeatedly with a childish smiley face, with the remaining days of the month scribbled out.
Lottie suddenly observed something rather odd. Squatting down next to the calendar, she noted that the highlighted day was not, in fact, the day that Russell was to start his journey but a couple of days into their own trip to Spain.
Eleanor had then disturbed her, chiding her for coming upstairs and pushing Lottie quickly out of the house and Lottie spent the rest of the day in a puzzled daze, wondering what the significance of this day could be.
*
♠ ♠ ♠
Lottie is incredibly arrogant and does not know what it is to be in love.You don't really have to remember all those names! The important ones are Lottie and Russell, in particular Lottie. Thanks for reading. It gets way more exciting in a chapter or two!