Sarah Scott Journalist

10 days before the meet

It’s 3am when I wake up screaming, drenched in sweat with Aimee crying at my side.

I dreamt of them. My mind replayed the bullets, fired by my hand, breaking their bodies. Aimee explains through her sobs that I was shouting in my sleep and it scared her. She curls up next to me and I take her in my arms like I used to when we were little. She sobs a bit more but drifts asleep eventually.

I watch the clock in our room change from three to half past then to four. Going back to sleep doesn’t seem like an option for me. We need to get away from this place! I knew Mexico wasn’t the safest country but I never expected an attempted kidnapping resulting in me committing murder.

We have plane tickets booked to go home in just over nine days. I want to get on the next flight out of here but we can’t afford new tickets. What would our parents do in this situation? They would say ‘make do with what you’ve got.’ And what I’ve got is a phone. I could ring the travel company and see if we could exchange our tickets for an earlier flight.

I slide out from Aimee’s exhausted body and take my phone to the bathroom. I dial the travel company’s number and let it ring. Since it’s four in the morning it goes to voicemail so I hang up. I will have to wait till seven until the office opens.

I crawl back into bed next to Aimee and focus on her steady breathing to distract me from my thoughts. I must drift off to sleep because the next time I look at the clock, it’s five thirty and I’m in a different position. Aimee has moved back into her bed but she is awake and is staring at the ceiling silently in her own little world, which I hope is better than the one we’re living in now.

“I didn’t know you were awake. Why didn’t you wake me up?” I say to her with my voice all croaky.

“I thought you needed sleep. You weren’t shouting this time, so I left you,” she replies.

“Couldn’t you get back to sleep?”

“No,” she softly says. She does well to try and hide it, but I can tell it’s bothering her. After what has happened and the lack of sleep, she’s doing remarkably well not to break down into a million pieces. Maybe she’s confused as to what actually happened.

I decide we can’t wait around here for another hour and a half so I suggest we go and get some breakfast. She doesn’t argue despite it being half five. We walk out of our hotel room and amble down the road, past three closed shops until we find one that’s open. It’s taken us an hour to walk here so by the time we get back the travel agency will be open.

Aimee isn’t hungry but I force her to eat something because she needs to keep her energy up. She eats her food without complaining further but remains quiet whilst doing so.

I take her over to sit on the hill opposite the corner shop. We eat in silence until she finally speaks. “What’s going to happen now?” she asks me so quietly I barely hear her.

I think before I speak. “We’re going to get you home safe and sound. I promise. Everything will be alright,” I lie to her. Nothing will ever be ‘alright’ again. She watched as I ended someone’s life. She had a loaded gun pointed to her head and I expect her to be ‘alright.’

“I meant with the strange looking man. The one you didn’t hurt. Is he not mad at you for hurting his friends?”

I stay stunned into silence that she has thought more into this than I have. What if he finds us? What if he’s out seeking revenge? What if he has told the police about me and I have to spend the rest of my life rotting away in a Mexican prison?

I swallow the food rising in my throat and hope that Aimee doesn’t pick up on my anxiety. I can’t answer the question because I’m afraid of the answer myself. I just say a simple, “I’m not sure honey,” and then suggest we start walking back. Aimee moans along the way, saying her legs ache but all I can do is offer some support by saying, “not long to go.” I offer to carry her but she won’t let me. The silence returns and we both drift away into our thoughts.

By the time we reach the hotel my legs are aching too and my throat is hoarse. I can’t imagine how Aimee is feeling. Her eyes look teary so I tell her that a cold glass of water is waiting in our room, making her force a smile but she remains quiet.

I unlock our door and walk in to see our room completely trashed. Clothes on the floor. Glass smashed everywhere and all our belongings spread round the room. I hear Aimee gasp as we walk further in to see the full extent of the damage. I pick up an upturned chair and gesture for Aimee to sit down. I look over and see the clear route the thieves got in – an entire window frame has been cleanly removed, right next to Aimee’s bed. I make a path to the sink in the kitchen and get Aimee a glass of water which she gulps down. I do the same for myself before I go around checking for things they’ve taken…

Everything is still here! Not that there was much to steal but they’ve taken nothing! I would run down and tell the hotel but I’m afraid they wouldn’t believe me. They may think I’m accusing one of their staff. Aimee is curious as to why they didn’t take anything and so am I. Who would break in here, smash the place up and not take anything? They’ve clearly found a wallet of money I was hiding but chose not to take it. Not even the TV is gone.

I make the decision to leave here immediately. I grab Aimee’s rucksack and fill it with some of her clothes, her toothbrush and her stupid bear that she insists is too important to leave behind. I stuff my toothbrush, some clean clothes and Aimee’s blanket in my rucksack.

Something catches my eye. Something calm amidst the chaos. I look over and see a side table placed in the middle of the bedroom with a vase of fresh flowers standing on it. Leaning against that vase is the envelope containing our two plane tickets which now has Spanish writing on the front saying, ‘Limpiar su alma- Maldición.’ I slowly approach it as if something is going to jump out at me. I’m guessing it’s not anything pleasant. I don’t even realise the tears running down my face until I look towards the mirror which has a symbol painted on it. The tears are running down my face because I’ve seen this symbol before…

A hot flush rushes over me, forcing me to sit down. Bile rises in my throat when I try to think what this could mean. It’s as if my mind won’t let me process what it just saw. Be the best brother you can possibly be. My mother’s words ring in my ears – what she said to me just before Aimee was born. I need to keep that promise I made to her, to keep Aimee safe.

The sign left wasn’t from an intruder showing off what they’d done to our room, it was a warning. The marking is the same as the tattoos on the thugs I shot; the same as Mexican Russell. How could he find us? Once we left the site of the ‘incident’ I was observant and made sure he did not follow us or see where we were heading.

I walk over to Aimee and tell her to pick up her rucksack. I try to explain to her that we are in danger but are going to find safety so she can only bring what’s in her rucksack.

I grab what money I have left and our passports which haven’t been found hidden at the back of our cupboard, or so I think. There is enough here to get us a taxi and a cheap room near the airport for a few nights but not enough for new plane tickets and not enough to buy us a room till our other flight leaves. I should have been more prepared with cash! The room was already paid for as were our meals each night so I didn’t think to bring a lot of cash. I’m just hoping we can swap them for an earlier flight. I can’t bear to think what will happen if I don’t.

I get another hot flush as if I’m menopausal and realise when I pick up my bag that my hand is shaking. I take a deep breath until it passes but my hand is still weak. I try to hide this from Aimee with an unconvincing, ‘It’ll be alright’ smile but she buys it.

Aimee is smart. She started walking when she had just turned one and her first word came not long after that. My parents had high hopes she would become a doctor or do something earning lots of money with her intelligence. She would go far. She will go far.

It strikes me as odd that nothing was taken. The plane tickets at least have a lot of value especially to us as it is our ticket out of here. I feel a pit in my stomach that I have to ignore because we need to leave here now!

Ten minutes later we’re walking out the door to hand in our key behind the desk, ordering a taxi to the airport. The receptionist doesn’t question our checking out early, luckily. We are dropped off just outside the main doors then I don’t know what to do. Aimee puts my hand in hers and we walk inside to an information desk, guided by her.

“Hello. How can I help you?” the overly smiley desk attendant says.

“I…um… I…I was hoping to swap these tickets for an earlier date,” I say. Aimee places the two tickets, out of their envelope, on the desk and exchanges a smile with her.

“These tickets are for nine days’ time,” she points out the obvious.

“Yes, I know, but we need to swap them for an earlier flight. Possibly today if you can?”

She laughs nervously. “Sorry we don’t do that,” she says still smiling.

“That’s it? Please there must be something you can do. Our mum and dad are finally getting married and I booked the tickets on the wrong date and now we’ll miss it. Please my little sister is the bridesmaid.” I fake laugh.

She studies us, still trying to keep her smile. She clearly has concerns with my sob story but tries her best to help. “Look the airline you’re flying with doesn’t have any flights going to your destination till next week. The only other option I would suggest is refunding your tickets then purchasing new ones for a flight today.”

I sigh which makes her squirm. She clearly doesn’t like disappointing people. I thank her and take my tickets back. I start to walk in no specific direction but she calls me back. “I can sort that out for you here if you want. Here give me your tickets.” I do as she says and wait patiently checking my back for anyone looking suspicious. Aimee looks bored and confused, probably with the lie I told about our parents. The desk attendant types away on her keyboard. Each click emphasized by her fake stick-on nails.

She tells me I can sell both my tickets for 5050 peso each, which I’m told equals about £190. “But I paid nearer £400 for each ticket!” I protest.

“That’s the best I can do. That’s what happens when you book the wrong date,” she tries to stifle a laugh but a look at my face stops her.

“How much would new tickets cost?” I ask and she types away on her computer.

“Well there is a flight later this afternoon for 9000 peso or one tomorrow night for 8500 peso.”

I am never going on holiday again! I think of my wad of cash and know there is something like £680 or £630. I would rather leave tonight but I don’t know how much money I have. I will need to find £300 cash to leave tonight.

I tell the desk lady I will be back to buy those tickets. I grab Aimee’s arm and pull her towards the toilets. I need to count our money. I won’t bring Aimee into the gents so I lock ourselves in a single disabled toilet and start counting.

Aimee perches herself at the end of the stall and takes her backpack off to cuddle with. She is watching me with her big, innocent eyes.

£50

£100

£200

£232

£232.48

Not enough! I sigh, hard.

I cover my face with my hands. I will just have to buy Aimee her ticket and just get the flight back tomorrow. I’m sure I can survive an extra day here. Just look for the tattoo I tell myself.

I feel a tiny hand on mine which brings me to look up. Aimee is holding some notes in her hand which makes my heart sink. She should be able to depend on me and trust me to help her instead of having an incompetent brother who is broke.

“I counted it,” she begins. “£45.80”

She explains that she has been saving her weekly allowance from the care home since I told her about the trip so she could buy me a present when we were here. I take her money and give her a huge hug. I quickly count it and she has counted right. From my grade C in maths gcse I think roughly we need another £20 from somewhere.

I arrange the money into the plastic wallet and take Aimee’s hand as we walk out together. Surely the desk attendant can let me off £20 but when we arrive back at the desk, cash in hand, the desk attendant we had earlier is not here. She must be on a break or something. I try to explain to the new attendant what we had sorted with the flights and tickets but she repeatedly says we don’t do that and sends us on our way.

Shit! Even in this tiny airport there must be someone who understands what I’m asking. I walk over to one of the check in desks but I am laughed away and sent back to the same information desk.

I panic, silently to start with but then out loud. I try and talk some sense into the man at the desk but he doesn’t want to hear it. He threatens to call security when the desk attendant we had earlier comes in. She reassures him I’m fine and she will see to me even though her shift has ended and she was only coming back here to collect her bag.

I am grateful. Truly I am grateful and I make sure I thank her multiple times.

“It’s not a problem really. You must be desperate to get back for the wedding.”

“Huh?” I ask.

“Your parents’ wedding…” she says.

“Oh yes, sorry.” I laugh a fake uncomfortable laugh. Get it together. How could I forget our conversation that happened less than twenty minutes ago?

I hand her the tickets and she resumes typing. I see her chewing the inside of her cheek as she’s working – something my mother used to do.

“Okay so here is your refund for those tickets.” She hands me perfectly straight notes that are crisp and new. “And which flight is it you want to board?”

I respond by saying, “tonight” which sends her off typing again.

Typing, chewing, then finally smiling. I wonder what happened in her life for her to be working here at an airport information desk. She looks young – early twenties I’m guessing. Freshly dyed hair and perfectly manicured nails. Something strange for a minimum wage job yet she is still so smiley and happy but sometimes the brightest people have a hidden story behind their smile. Her smile is beautiful though – it’s something that doesn’t belong in this depressing shithole.

“Okay so, two tickets for the flight to London Gatwick will be £340 each coming to a total of £680. How are you paying?” she asks but says “ah” when she notices the wad of cash in my hand.

I place it on the desk and anxiously watch her count it, each note going at the pace of my heart.

“Oh you’re £21.72 short,” she says expecting me to pull out the cash now.

“Oh are you sure?” I ask. She looks at me like I’ve insulted her and her counting skills making me sweat even more in this un-air-conditioned building. “That’s all my money. Doesn’t Aimee go cheaper because she’s a child?”

“Afraid not,” she says. I’m not going to argue because I know if there was a way she would have done it.

“Just one ticket for today’s flight then please,” I sigh. She looks shocked and starts chewing her cheek again. She bends down and pulls out her purse. Counting the equivalent amount we need in peso.

“Here,” she says.

“No I can’t…” I protest. I’m too proud to let her do this. She doesn’t know me and she’s offering me her money.

“I’m not paying for your ticket. I’m paying for your sister’s who can’t miss out on being a bridesmaid at her parents’ wedding.”

Before I can say anything Aimee steps in and says, “Thank you so much. That’s so kind of you.”

“Oh and here.” She pulls out 150 peso and hands it to Aimee. “We can’t have you going hungry before the flight. Wouldn’t want your already idiot brother getting into even more trouble.” Aimee is thrilled and lets out a childish laugh as if we are actually on our way to our parents’ wedding.

I take the tickets even though I’m still hesitant. “Thank you. You’re a life saver,” I say and she has no idea. “You’ve restored my faith in humanity.”

“Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes.”

I think mistakes but then I remember oh yes I booked the wrong flight which means we would have missed our parents’ wedding.

“I will find some way to repay you some day. If I had anything at all I would buy you a drink,” I joke.

She laughs. “Well if you’re ever in the area again I think I might just hold you to that drink,” she jokes too but I am never coming back.

She picks up her bag she came for over half an hour ago and waves to her colleague who waves back but doesn’t look up from her magazine. When she climbs down from her post I see all of her instead of her torso.

She wears a pencil skirt and shirt despite the hot weather and lack of air conditioning- clearly raised with the climate then I notice a small tattoo of an arrow on her ankle and know there is a story behind that. One I will never find out because when we part ways here, that’s it forever. I am never leaving England again.

“I never caught your name. Aren’t you supposed to wear a name badge or something?” I mock.

“It’s Lydia and I do.” She points to a badge above her left breast which reads ‘Anthony.’ “I don’t work here. I just fill in for my Pop sometimes,” she laughs.

“Well then Anthony. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

We part ways. Aimee and I walk to the small shop and Lydia towards the car park. She shouts, “enjoy the wedding” before she walks out of sight. I smile but I don’t say anything else. I won’t enjoy the wedding. I will try to keep my sister safe until we get home. I’m scared. I haven’t been like this since I found out Aimee and I were orphans – just me left protecting her, powerless against social workers’ arms taking us to different care homes because I was older and male.

Life has been harsh on us, especially Aimee growing up without a mother to idolise. “Well done,” I say to her. She asks what for and I say for looking cute and getting the money we need.

“She was nice. I didn’t need to do anything because she wanted to help us.”

“I know sweetheart, I’m sorry. What do you want to buy with your 150 peso? That’s about five pounds.”

“I thought we could share a ham and cheese sandwich with no mustard or mayo,” she specifically says so I don’t argue with that.

“Sounds great,” I lie. Plain sandwiches have never been my thing. Ketchup or mayo is essential for any sandwich.

Aimee was onto something though. Lydia did us a favour out of the kindness in her heart not because Aimee had worked her magic. There are still good people out there but sadly they’re not the kind hunting us down.

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Chp.5 – BELLE is out now.