When Adam comes downstairs on Friday morning, Dad’s at the table drinking coffee and reading last night’s paper. He’s still in his pyjamas. Adam sees him glance at the clock above the door.
‘You’re up early,’ he says. Normally, by the time Adam tumbles downstairs half-asleep, Dad’s either just leaving or has already left for the yard.
Adam runs a hand through his hair. ‘Gotta pick up some of the other guys. They’ve got no transport out there, so I said I’d drive.’ Well, the driving part is true. Adam does have to make a dog-leg out to Pukehina and back to pick up Skye from Donna’s.
‘Uh-huh.’ Dad turns to the sports section while Adam gets some bread out of the breadbin and makes himself a peanut butter sandwich. ‘You’re not taking much gear,’ Dad says, inclining his head in the direction of the backpack that Adam’s left leaned up against the breakfast bar.
Shit! When is Dad this observant? Quickly, Adam opens the fridge, hiding his face and his confusion in the cold interior.
‘Yeah... I already put a bag in the car yesterday. That’s just my toilet gear and some stuff I needed last night.’ Taking out the cheese, Adam puts it on the bench and cuts himself a chunk, quickly cramming it in his mouth.
Speak no evil...
‘Got your phone?’
His mouth half full of cheddar, Adam says, ‘Yeah, I’ve got it, but it probably won’t work. The camp’s out in the bush, remember. There might not be any cell coverage.’
Dad folds the paper and stands up. ‘That’s okay. I... um... might be a bit tied up myself. What time will you be back?’
‘Sunday night.’ Things going well, Adam should be back from Brisbane late on Saturday. But the camp doesn’t finish until mid-afternoon on Sunday so Adam plans to stay the night at Pukehina with Donna and Skye, then drive back to Tauranga around the same time as the team. He’s given himself a day in hand in case of any travel delays. Airlines aren’t always reliable.
‘Well,’ Dad says. ‘Better get my glad-rags on. Think you’ll still be here when I come down?’ Adam swallows the last of the cheese.
‘Nah, I’d better push off. I’m gonna be late.’
‘Right-o. Have a good camp. See you Sunday night.’ Then, leaving the paper on the table, Dad goes upstairs to take his shower.
Later in the day, Adam squeezes Skye’s hand.
‘That’s our call, Skye. Once we walk through those gates, there’s no turning back. You ready?’ Her shoulders are bunched. She looks tense.
She swallows. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ Adam had half-expected her to back out. He grabs her hand and leads her through the gates. It’s another twenty minutes—when they’re 25,000 feet up and fifty kilometres out over the Pacific Ocean—before she starts to relax, distracted by the novelty of her first flight. Watching her is like seeing a puppy with a squeaky toy. Adam loves the way she gasps when the aircraft banks as it climbs into the sky and that delighted squeal of hers as she peers through the cabin window pointing out familiar Auckland landmarks. And when they’re up in the blue, looking down on the clouds, she grabs his arm and says, ‘Look Adam, it’s like we’re hovering over a giant cappuccino!’ Later, she’s a toddler: mucking with all the buttons, adjusting her seat, scrolling through the entertainment options, farting around with the headphones and accidentally calling the flight attendant whose stern look sends them into a fit of giggles.
Adam’s glad they ate at the airport because the price of the in-flight snacks is flipping outrageous. Five bucks for a mince and cheese pie! Even pot noodles are $4.50. But regular drinks are free and the flight is only three hours, so they should be able to hang on. Adam flicks through the free entertainment and finds a rerun of Two and a Half Men, an old one with Charlie Sheen in it, and, his hand in Skye’s, settles down to watch. A couple of hours later, he gets his first glimpse of parched landscape as the aircraft descends.
So far, the trip’s gone without a hitch, but two teenagers travelling together could provoke questions, so at Immigration they split up, Skye taking one line and Adam another. They’ve already agreed on Skye’s story: her parents are divorced and her dad has recently moved to the Gold Coast for work. This will be Skye’s first school holiday with him since the breakup. It’s inspired. It explains Skye’s new passport, and it’s not too far from the truth so it’s easy to remember. If only Adam felt inspired. Almost at the front of the line and he still hasn’t come up with a plausible story for travelling alone.
‘Next, please!’
Adam shoulders his backpack, steps off the red line and up to the counter. He presents his passport to the officer, his fingers leaving moist crescents on the cover. Packed dense with the noise of hundreds of waiting passengers, the air in the hall is stifling.
Relax!
‘Look at the camera, please.’ Adam attempts to look laid-back. The officer holds the blue-grey booklet open and considers Adam’s face, his head ping-ponging to and fro as he compares the live version to the image in his hand. ‘Travelling alone, are we?’ he says, his bushy eyebrows coming together slightly.
‘Er... no. Um, I’m travelling with...’ Adam is casting around for an answer when he spies an elderly lady emerging from the Ladies Room at the far end of the Immigration Hall ‘... my grandmother. She’s over there,’ he says, pointing over the maze of travellers at the old lady. Catching the movement, old dear looks up. ‘Nana’s not big on flying,’ Adam continues. ‘She had to make a stop at the Ladies. I told her I’d come through first. Get our bags sorted and meet her on the other side.’ Adam gives the woman a deliberate wave, then turns back, shrugging and smiling at the officer in a ‘ya gotta love a granny’ kind of way. But the officer mustn’t have a granny because he doesn’t look convinced. He cranes his neck for a better look at the woman. Adam’s starting to feel uncomfortable. This is taking too long.
Just stamp the damn thing. Please.
Then something amazing happens: Adam’s imaginary nana lifts a wrinkly arm and waves in their direction. Seeing her wave settles it for the officer.
‘Okay, that’s fine,’ he says. He stamps Adam’s passport and passes it back over the counter. ‘Enjoy your stay.’
Skye rushes over as Adam is pushing his passport into his backpack. ‘You took so long to come through, I nearly died of fright. Who were you waving at?’
‘My nana.’
‘What?’ Adam explains as they make their way through the terminal, following the signs to the shuttle departure area.
‘That old lady must’ve thought I was someone else. It’s lucky she did because I think she saved my arse!’ he laughs, hoisting himself into the coach and showing his e-ticket to the driver.
After a coach drive into town, Skye and Adam find themselves a café where they use the customer bathroom to wash up before sitting down to share a pizza. Over lunch, Adam looks up their final destination on Google Maps, and a fifteen minute walk later here they are: standing on the footpath, their necks craned upwards at Whitworth’s Gold Coast office building.
Adam grins. So far, Operation Walkabout has been a runaway success.