The Holiday

The fog hung thick in the cold autumn air, so that everything more than a few feet away was reduced to eerie silhouettes. With it came an uneasy silence, penetrated by the muted whisper of the occasional car that dared to venture out in such weather or the murmurs of our group. Empty bird feeders hung from trees in gardens like miniature 18^th century gibbets. 

We huddled together, hands shoved under armpits, suitcases at our feet, as we waited for the coach to arrive.

“Wish the driver would hurry up,” grumbled Jack. I ignored him.

“Not everyone’s here yet,” pointed out another member of the group. She’d introduced herself as Edith and was a small, frail-looking woman, with wispy brown hair tinged with grey and faded hazel eyes. Beside her, a woman who looked like a younger Edith, bounced a baby on her hip.

“Well, they’d better hurry up too… And you,” he said, turning on the young mother, Stop pulling faces at that baby! Your face will stick like that!”

The two women looked as though Jack had slapped them.

I caught their attention, rolled my eyes and smiled apologetically.  “He hates the cold.”

Edith’s daughter glared at Jack. “Don’t we all?”

“No need for such rudeness,” added Edith, looking uncomfortable.

I was saved from answering by my brother, Euan. “Looks like the last of the stragglers has arrived.” 

I turned to look in the direction he was facing as the ghostly image of a man slowly took shape in the fog.

“Finally! About time,” said Jack.

“Sorry I’m late,” it said.

That voice. I knew that voice, with its American twang that I hadn’t heard for over a decade. The cold, the fog, Jack and the women he’d been so rude to, even my beloved brother vanished from my mind. My face split into a wide grin and my legs developed a will of their own as they flew towards the newcomer and into his arms.

“Scott!”

“Hey, honey,” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “Long time no see. How are you?”

“Fine, fine.” I pulled back, as a frown replaced my grin, concern replacing the joy of seeing him again. “What’s with the cane?”

***

The four of us had lived on the same street when we were children. We’d chased each other around the neighbourhood, challenged each other to climb the tallest trees, drew hopscotch squares on the road and played hide and seek until the sun went down. Scott Thomson had always been the one to climb the highest. In winter, we’d gather in the Thomson tree house and tell ghost stories. He’d been the one who’d look out for us all and made sure we all felt valued.

That all ended one day, when his father Samuel, had moved to America for work, taking his family with him. Scott returned aged twenty, homesick for the land of his birth, and had gone to the same university I had, playing basketball for the university team whilst he studied law. He’d been called back to America to work for his father’s firm after he graduated. He’d been so athletic, so agile. So graceful. I couldn’t help but wonder where it had all gone so horribly wrong.

***

“Spinal problem,” he told me now, the glint of mischief in his eyes fading as he became serious. “We didn’t know it until a few years ago, but my spinal cord is mangled. Born that way, apparently.”

I searched his eyes. “Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

Scott shook his head. “No. No pain. Just my legs don’t always do what they’re supposed to, balance is a bit off, that sort of thing.” 

That’s why I hadn’t recognised him, I realised. His gait had been unsteady.

My reply died on my lips as Jack interrupted us.

“Oh God! It’s him!”

“Oh God! It’s Face-Ache,” retorted Scott, a fresh smile not quite reaching his eyes. Then, he turned to my brother, “Euan Brown! Haven’t seen you since we were kids,” he beamed.  The two men shook hands and pulled each other into a hug.

“You sound different,” noted Euan. “Got an accent now.”

Scott glanced at me, eyes shining once more. My heart did a somersault. “Well, that’s what happens when you move to a different country.”

“Should have stayed there.”

Scott chuckled. “Nice to see you too, Jack.”

“Tracey told me you’d come back for Uni,” said Euan, looking at me.

“I did, but I had to go back to American after I’d graduated.” There was a hint of regret in his voice. Then, he brightened up again. “But I’m back now.”

“Permanently?” I held my breath.

“Hope not,” sulked Jack.

Scott appeared not to have heard him. “Permanently,” he said, gazing at me. “I live only a few blocks away.

Jack tossed his head around in an air of impatience. “And yet, you’re still the last one to arrive.”

Scott exhaled slowly, made a show of looking around him. “I can’t see the bus anywhere, Jack. Can you?”

“Not the point.”

“I’d say it was exactly the point,” said Scott. “If the coach were here, you’d all be on board, out of the cold, but it’s not, so whether I was the first or last passenger to arrive, is beside the point, isn’t it?”

Edith shuffled forward until she stood right in front of Scott and had to tilt her head back in order to meet his eyes. “He’s been like that with all of us,” she said. The rest of the group nodded in agreement. Only Euan and I failed to join in. “Told my daughter to stop pulling faces at her son.” She indicated the young mother with her head. Scott looked in the direction she indicated. 

“Called me fat,” said another member of the group, who was anything but. I glanced at my brother. Not for the first time this evening, he looked as ashamed as I felt.

““Now see,” Scott said, loud enough for the younger woman to hear, “I would have pulled even funnier faces, just to annoy him more. And,” he addressed Mr Not-Fat “I’m sorry to hear that. Just remember, it says more about him than it does about you.” Then, under his breath, he added, “I hope this bus hurries up. I need to sit down.”

“Narcissist”, spat Jack.

Scott looked him right in the eye. “Yes. Of course. I’m the narcissist.” 

His opponent looked momentarily uncomfortable but shrugged it off quicker than I could blink. He glared at me and Euan in turn. “I’m not sticking around to be insulted like this.” There was a collective, involuntary gasp from the rest of the group. “If he goes on this holiday, I’m not.” He stamped his foot.

“You can’t dictate who gets to go on this holiday and who doesn’t, Jack,” I said, just as the bus emerged from the fog.

***

During the course of the following week, I realised just how much Scott had changed. The once super-fit, agile basketball player could barely put one foot in front of the other. He relied on elevators for getting to his room, had to stop and rest. He would trip over his own feet and relied heavily on handrails and his cane. Where possible, he hired a wheelchair, and we’d take turns pushing him. But he was still as sharp as he’d always been, his eyes still sparkled with kindness and mischief. He still managed to make sure we all enjoyed ourselves. 

And he still outwitted Jack in every battle of words they had.

A lot had changed in him. But the most important things about him were still the same.