Johnny and Clare IV

"We shouldn't be doing this."

I'm gripping the seat.  She jams the pedal to the floor and we shoot off down the hall.  

"Ah calm down will you."

She shakes her head, exasperated by my protest.

"You've hijacked an aiport cart."

"And you're in the passenger seat, complicit in the crime.  Your going down with me if we're caught, and I'm the pretty girl who will say.  He made me do it.  Plus you look like a criminal with that beard and those bags underneath your eyes."

A voice sounds from somewhere behind us.

"Hey you! Stop! Stop that cart."

The driver has emerged from the bathroom but we've turned round the corner.  I can still hear him shouting but his voice is fading as the distance grows.  Clare's face is full of nervous determination as we dart through the crowds.

Every face looks threatening to me and I press tight into my seat and clamp onto the cart with my hands, tensed and ready to run.

"Come on Johnny would you live a little.  Let your hair down would you.  Enjoy breaking the rules for once"

"Clare I don't break the rules..."

"That's completely evident, so I've becomed determined to help you break them."

She's treating me as if I'm a child, and each time she talks she looks over at me taking her eyes off the busy concourse ahead. I have to remind myself I can't miss this flight, I can't...

"Listen Clare I can't miss this flight.  Thanks for taking it on yourself to awaken my inner rebel, but I'm not enjoying this."

I tighten my grip on the seat as she swerves around a large group retired tourists.  With their maps out and socks pulled up.

She's stopped the cart in the middle of the hall.  People are grumbling and crowding in and around.  She climbs down and around the front, reaches out and takes my hand and we blend in, walk through, and suddenly a blue screen stands brightly before us.  I read the sign. In bold letters.  

Goa

Now Boarding.

"How did you know this was my gate?"

She smiles innocently, and a thought crashes into my regularly level-headed, calmly processing mind... I'm intrigued by this girl... I'm interested in this girl.  No, it's more than interest.  Interest is a second look.  She's made me feel alive.  I haven't laughed in a week, but she makes me laugh.

The weekend still stands before the funeral, the weekend at least. I don't want to leave.

"You are perfectly delightful."

I put on a British accent for some unknown reason.

She bows and curtsies charmingly with her hands gathering the fringes of her loose dress.  It flows brightly and as she curtsies the sun catches her unawares and her face glows.

It dawns on me that I've taken her hand again after her curtsy, and I notice that it is very warm. It feels tiny snuggled in my palm.

"That will be my secret.  Now here we are.  At your gate.  The people lining up even though they haven't opened the doors yet, as if their seats will run away, or someone is going to steal them."

Sure enough the people are scurrying to find a place in line.  I feel a sense of relief having arrived at my gate, but it is that cold instinctual relief that is really no satisfaction at all.

"I'll make you an offer"

The sun still shining on her face, glitters in her eyes.  

"Make it an offer I can't refuse."

We stand staring at the gate and then she smiles and I feel myself begin to smile.

"I give a deadly tour of Dublin..."