Chapter Twenty two
Johnny took his earphones off as the movie he had chosen finished and then took a sip of the orange juice he had been handed. He then turned to Veronica, who sat in the window seat on the British Airways flight to Washington Dulles. “The new Bond movie; not bad, but I still miss the humour.”
Veronica lowered her book. “James Bond huh! Sexist rubbish!”
“Hey! What happened to Sean Connery being the sexiest man in the world?”
“I like the men, not the movies.”
“Who’s being sexist now?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Ah well,” he sighed, looking for another film.
“Why don’t we just talk for a while,” said Veronica, putting her book in the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Your childhood; your parents?”
Johnny dropped his earphones onto his lap. “Not much to tell. I went to school in Arbroath. I liked sports and wanted to be a footballer.”
“What stopped you?”
“When I got older I became involved in underage drinking and that was the end of any sports career. I did, however, manage to get 5 O-grades and two Highers. My father was an engineer in a local works and my mother worked part-time when she could. What about your childhood?”
“I was brought up in Butler Ohio,” said Veronica as she took a sip of her lemonade,“my father was the local Fire Chief; he was an authoritarian. He kept my mother tied to the kitchen sink while he was working or chasing other women. I hated him for what he did to her, and I swore that I would never let that happen to me. I always wanted a career in Journalism; so I made sure I got the grades to enter Merrill College.”
“Are your parents still alive?”
“Mom still lives in the same house. My father died of a heart attack three years ago. The saddest thing is that after hating him all these years I cried my eyes out at the funeral.”
“What does your sister do?”
“Ann’s a housewife in Cleveland. She has a fine husband, Ian, and a son, David, who’s just applied to enter Merrill College.”
“My sister Gemma’s a solicitor in Dundee. She’s like me: relationship’s not being a strong point.”
A meal of lasagne and vegetables was then served as Johnny settled down to another movie.
Veronica put her hand on Johnny’s arm as the film she was watching finished. Johnny turned and smiled and signalled for her to take off the earphones. “What was it you wanted tell me?”
“When?”
“At Stuttgart Airport. You said you had something to tell me.”
The seatbelt sign illuminated and passengers returned to their seats. A stewardess asked Johnny if he had any rubbish, and he put empty plastic cups into her black, plastic bag.
Veronica touched his cheek and said: “I’ll tell you somewhere quieter.”
Veronica’s house lay in the town of Annandale Virginia-part of the Washington Metropolitan Area. The streets of the area were broad and leafy, and the houses were set well back from the road and were of various sizes. The drives that led up to the garages were infested with cars.
“I rent this place from a woman I know who works for the government.” Veronica said as they walked up the driveway toward a two-storey, red-brick house, after climbing out of a yellow cab with their bags.
Veronica unlocked the brown-painted front door and pushed against a mound of mail.
“Come on in,” she said, placing her bag on the first step of the staircase and picking up the letters and promotional leaflets.
“Stuff for the recycler,” she said to herself.
Johnny then followed her into the lounge which was spacious and had a large window that looked out onto the front lawn. A small dining room, with a polished table and four chairs connected to the lounge by an archway.
“Sit down John until I get things sorted,” said Veronica, before she pushed open a door in the dining room and disappeared.
He sat on a large, cream settee with brown cushions at either end. The walls were painted in a light blue overhung with a white ceiling. A large, slim television hung like a black painting on the wall which faced the settee. In a corner, a cupboard had a large photograph of a smiling Veronica in between two women; one older; one younger: mother and sister, Johnny assumed.
Veronica strolled back into the lounge and said: “Come on Mr Duncan time for bed.”
“What? It’s a bit early.”
“It’s not sleeping I’ve got on my mind.”
“Oh the things you’ve got to do for queen and country,” Johnny sighed as he rose off the settee and grabbed his bag.
Johnny looked at his watch; it was 7.40 pm. He had been woken up by a rumbling stomach and the shouts of children, which had drifted in from the street.
The bedroom was big with warm, amethyst-coloured walls. A sliding mirrored door wardrobe stared across a white shag pile carpet at the bed. Johnny raised his head and looked at his reflection–he needed a shave.
Veronica rolled over and kissed him “Would you like to go out for some dinner?”
“Yeah, I want to sample some American food–those big platefuls I keep hearing about.”
“Huh! Just a waste.”
After showering, and Johnny having his shave, they left by the rear door. The evening was humid; the sun had begun to drop out of the sky casting golden rays over the houses.
Veronica hauled up her garage door and unlocked her silver Buick.
“Nice car,” said Johnny as he sat in the passenger’s seat.
“Thanks,” replied Veronica, starting the engine. The vehicle suddenly filled with the sound of an announcer talking about the Washington Redskins.
“What type of food do you want to eat?” She asked as she reversed the car out of the garage.
“Anything American.”
“Okay well, I know just the place.”
They drove along the road and then took a left and headed along a busier road where houses gave way to shopping malls and restaurants.
“Hey look at that–Fuddruckers!” Johnny said.
“Yeah it’s a burger joint. I keep forgetting, you haven’t been to the States.”
They pulled into a parking lot outside a restaurant where a red neon sign, under a yellow neon star announced ‘Silverado’.
Veronica undid her seat belt. “This is a popular place, I hope we can get a table.”
Inside, a waitress dressed in a red and white vertical striped shirt told them they were in luck: there were two vacant tables. They sat by the window on the lower level.
The restaurant, as the name suggested, followed a western theme with cowboy paintings and Native American woven rugs hung on the walls.
“Yeehaw,” said Johnny as he sat down.
“Oh my God!” Veronica said. “You’re not going to embarrass me are you?”
“No mam!”
Another woman in a red and white striped shirt appeared at the table and announced that she would be their waitress for the evening. After handing them a menu she asked them if they would like something to drink.
“An orange juice please,” said Johnny.
Veronica eyed Johnny and then said: “A white wine for me please.”
After the waitress scuttled away, Veronica said: “Not having a beer tonight?”
Johnny looked up from his menu, “Nah, I’m going to give up the booze for a while. Funny thing is, despite all the hassle that’s been going on, I feel more contented than I have done for years.”
After the waitress cleared away the dishes Johnny sat back and patted his stomach. “Man, those fajitas were great. I think I’m going to like it here in the States. When does the gunfight start?”
Veronica coughed as she sipped her wine and then said: “When I get you home.”
“Wow! Just what I fancy: a feisty American woman.”
The next morning after a breakfast of coffee and more coffee Veronica stood in front of the mirrored doors of her wardrobe brushing her brown hair. “What do you want to do today John?”
“I was going to come with you and see how a big city newspaper operates,” he said as he strolled into the bedroom.
“Pretty boring I would have thought. Wouldn’t you rather see some of the sights?”
“Oh I see, you don’t want a small town hack showing you up,” he said with a grin.”
“Not at all; I thought, as it's your first time here… you know!”
“Yeah well, I’d like to go to the National Air and Space Museum and see the Spirit of St Louis I suppose.”
“Okay–let’s go!”
The day was steadily gathering heat as they drove along the Capitol Beltway on the way to downtown Washington DC. The traffic, according to Veronica, was light, as she turned left, at an intersection, on to the Henry Shirley Memorial Highway. The surrounding area had gone from low-rise residential to high-rise residential.
After a while the freeway became many freeways at different levels and veered to the right as it passed the United States Air Force Memorial building.
“Hey there’s the Pentagon!” Johnny shouted as the five-sided building loomed up on the left.
They crossed over the bottle green Potomac River and cruised into the centre of Washington. Veronica then negotiated her way through several busy streets before she drew up beside the large white cubes that housed the National Air and Space Museum.
“There you go John,” she said, looking at her watch, “I’ll meet you back here at say…one o’clock.
“Okay, see you,” he said as he gave her a kiss and then climbed out of the car.
Inside the museum there were hordes of children milling around waiting on teachers and parents for tickets. Johnny made his way through the crowds and entered America’s celebration of flight and space exploration.
The central atrium was impressive; aeroplanes of various ages, including the ‘Spirit of St Louis’ - hung from the ceiling as if frozen in flight. Well, he thought, this is good, but why didn’t she want me to see her work?
Two hours later and Johnny stood on Independence Avenue beside where he had been dropped off and surveyed the passing cars for the silver Buick. The traffic was heavy and noisy, and Johnny found his mind longing for escape.
Veronica drew up ten minutes later and gave him a wave. He ran along to the car and slumped into the passenger’s seat.
“Well, did you see the ‘Spirit of St Louis’?” she asked with a smile.
“Yeah, I did and a hell of a lot more as well.”
“Want some lunch?”
“Yup!”
Veronica swung the car out into the traffic and headed for the Potomac. “Well, we’re heading for the west coast tomorrow morning–9.15 flight. Ronald Reagan to Los Angeles.”
“Good girl.”
“That’s not all. I know where the tests are taking place.”
“You’re just something else!”