LITMIR.BIZ

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most likely to drive one. But I come up blank.

      It’s quite big and has a curved canopy over the driver’s cab, which I know is quite common in a lot of the models. I can remember years ago when I was a kid, before Mam died, a cousin of hers and his wife called in to see us driving a huge camper van. They slept in a kind of bunk bed over the driver’s cab. I can’t even remember this cousin’s name now and I’m pretty sure they must be dead, because they seemed ancient back then. God, the smell in that thing! Toiletry odours covered up by headache-inducing air fresheners, that made me want to gag. Surely it can’t be those two again?

      I check out the van a little closer. It’s white in the main, but has blocks of silvery grey across the cabin. It also has a bright-red stripe splashed across both sides, in an attempt at frivolity almost.

      For fuck’s sake! I’m not sure why I’m so put out by its presence, but I am. It feels like the straw that is about to break my back. As I walk towards the driver’s door, I shout out, ‘Hello?’ but nobody answers me. My heart rate speeds up as adrenalin begins to pump into my blood. I can hear my heart begin to drum in my ears, getting louder and louder as I approach the cab. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see sitting behind the driver’s wheel. But when I see it’s empty I’m both relieved and disappointed all at once.

      Confused, I turn around to wave to Mae and the kids. I want to signal them that there seems to be no one here, but the side door to the camper van opens with a clang, making me jump back, almost tripping over my own feet. In a pathetic non-hero-like manner, I squeak out a hiss of surprise.

      I’m grateful that Mae and the kids are not by my side to witness it. Not my finest moment. I stand up tall in an attempt at redemption and face a middle-aged man. He has neat mousy brown hair parted to the side, wearing a brown pullover and beige slacks. He doesn’t look in the slightest bit like an alien. Or dangerous.

      ‘Alright,’ his voice calls out to me. I can’t work out the accent, but it’s not Irish, that I know for sure. Scottish maybe? He steps down from the doorway and smiles at me brightly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be here.

      I nod back at him and try to work out if I’ve ever met him before. Nope, I’m pretty certain this is the first time I’ve clapped eyes on him.

      He holds his hand out and introduces himself, ‘Aled Davies.’ He then does this thing where he bows, almost Chinese-like. The lilting voice, singsong, along with the name, alerts me to where he’s from – he’s Welsh.

      ‘Nice to meet you,’ I say, lying. ‘I’m Olly Guinness. But you’ve got the advantage on me, Mr Davies, because I’m not sure why you are parked in my driveway.’

      ‘I’ll tell you for why,’ he replies with a smile. ‘I’ve come to deliver Nomad to you.’

      ‘Nomad?’ I repeat, feeling stupid, like I’m missing the obvious. ‘Who’s Nomad?’

      ‘Not who, what!’ he laughs and with glee points to his camper van.

      I’m baffled now and figure that this Welshman must have been smoking something, because he’s not making any sense to me. I look him up and down and he appears to be sober, lucid and harmless enough, but so was Keyser Söze and look how that worked out for Gabriel Byrne.

      I gesture to Mae and the kids to join me as I’m pretty certain that the brown-jumper-clad man before me poses no threat. I introduce each of them to Aled and his smile gets brighter and bigger with every passing name.

      ‘I’ve heard lots about you two!’ Aled tells Evie and Jamie when they stand beside me.

      ‘You sound funny,’ Jamie tells him, looking at him warily.

      ‘Don’t be rude,’ Mae scolds Jamie, but Aled just laughs.

      ‘Not the first time I’ve heard that, truth be told. Right, I know you must be wondering why I’m here, but one minute. Where did I put it?’

      He starts patting down his jumper and trousers and then exclaims as he pulls out a white envelope, ‘Ah, here it is. I’ve a letter to give to you, Olly.’

      It has my name on the front and I recognise the handwriting immediately.

      Pops.

      My heartbeat starts to do its loud hammer dance in my ears again. I can feel a line of sweat break out on my forehead. I’m cold, hot, clammy and can’t breathe.

      I feel a hand steady me – Mae – and realise that I must have faltered for a moment. I look at the figurine of Obi-Wan Kenobi clasped in Jamie’s hand and then at the letter in Aled’s hand. Wi-Fi. Fucking Wi-Fi.

      ‘I think we should go inside,’ Mae says, and she leads me towards the front door, gesturing Aled to follow us. ‘It’s been a long day.

      ‘Evie, can you make some tea for our guest, please,’ Mae instructs, sounding posh and proper and nothing like her usual self. Evie throws her a dirty look and for a moment I think she’s going to refuse. But then she glances at me and sighs loudly, scuffing her feet as she walks out of the room. Mae then motions Jamie to go into the den to watch TV. I realise that she is also thrown by the letter and trying hard to hold it together.

      ‘When did he give you this?’ I demand as soon as I find my voice again. The envelope feels heavy in my hand and a faint line of moisture from clammy fingers appears on the top right-hand corner.

      ‘Your father sent it to me last week, Olly. He gave me specific instructions that I was to be here on the day of his funeral. He arranged with the funeral director – Mr Larkin, I believe – to call me when he died, so I could get here on time.’

      I hold my breath as he explains the events of the past few days and start to sweat again. What the hell had Pops been up to?

      ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Aled said to me. ‘Your father was a proper gentleman. But he wanted to do this. He was quite adamant that I should be here today.’

      ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Pops mention you before,’ Mae says, the kids hovering behind her. There’s no way they are missing out on whatever this is.

      ‘I’m sorry to say that I didn’t meet him in person. But we’ve spoken on the phone a few times. As I said, he was a proper gent and I would have liked to have spent time with him, if things were different. I think we would have got along pretty well. Maybe it’s best you read the letter. I’m sure it will all become a bit clearer when your father explains what he has done. I’ll go wait in Nomad while you do. Give you some privacy.’

      Mae begins to make noises that he should stay where he is, but I usher him to the door saying, ‘Feel free to take your tea with you.’

      I don’t want to be a complete dick.

      Aled stands up and walks out, saying as he leaves, ‘Take your time. I’m quite comfortable out here.’ He gives me a look of sympathy and I nod back, but my attention is one hundred percent on Pop’s letter and I don’t want a stranger watching me as I read it.

      Part of me wants to rip the envelope open, but there’s another part of me that’s chicken. What if this message from the grave – or urn, I suppose – has something bad in it? I shiver. Jamie and Evie have joined Mae on the couch and the three of them watch me, waiting for me to get on with the task at hand. I feel fortified by having them by my side. My family.

      So steadied by that sight, with fumbling thumbs, I slowly open the envelope. The sound of paper tearing slices through the thundering silence.

      I look inside the envelope and enclosed are two sheets of paper. For a moment, my vision blurs as tears sting my already tired eyes. I blink twice, then once more to focus on the words below.

       Chapter Four

       Dearest Olly and Mae

      

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