“Yes, and nontransferable,” Hugo says for the third time. “I was just hoping you might make an exception. See, my girlfriend booked the tickets, but we’ve split up now, and I’d still quite like to go, but—”
“Is your name Margaret Campbell?” asks the customer service representative in a flat, bored voice.
Hugo sighs. “No.”
“Well then,” she says, and that’s that.
Alfie and George are the only two at home that afternoon. Hugo explains his new plan to them, expecting a bit of support, but they both stare at him, gobsmacked.
“You’re a nutter,” Alfie says. “A complete nutter.”
George rubs the back of his neck, where his hair is cut into a fade. He still looks incredulous. “Even if someone was mad enough to actually agree to this, why would you want to spend a week with a total stranger?”
“Yeah, you’re always on about what a chore it is to share a room withme,” Alfie says. “Now you don’t mind being stuck in a train compartment for days on end with some random girl?”
“It would still be better than sharing a room with you,” George points out, and Alfie throws a rugby ball at his head.
“I’m a delight,” he says.
Hugo ignores them. He knows how it sounds, this makeshift plan of his. There’s only one real reason to do it: he wants a week on his own before starting uni in the company of his five siblings. Having to share that time with a stranger isn’t particularly appealing. But given the circumstances, Hugo doesn’t see a way around it.
“I still want to go,” he tells his brothers. “And this is the only way.”
In the end, they agree to help him write the post, and the three of them huddle around his laptop, cracking up as they spend the afternoon crafting the world’s strangest wanted ad. Though he had to reel Alfie in a bit—“I don’t think it hurts to be open-minded about the sleeping arrangements”—even Hugo has to admit the final result isn’t bad:
Hello there!
First of all, I realise this is a bit odd, but here we go. As a result of a breakup (that was not my idea, unfortunately), I’ve found myself with a consolation prize: a spare ticket for a weeklong train journey from New York City to San Francisco. The catch is that I can’t change my ex’s name on the reservation, so I’m sending this out into the universe in case there happens to be another Margaret Campbell who might be interested in rescuing my holiday and getting one of her own in exchange.
I know what you’re thinking, but I swear I’m not a nutter. I’m a fairly normal eighteen-year-old bloke from England, and I think most people would say I’m a nice guy (references available upon request).
The train leaves from Penn Station in New York City on August13 and arrives in San Francisco on August19, and if you’d prefer not to sit with me, I’ll do my best to sort something with the travel company. Honestly, I just need someone by the name of Margaret Campbell to get us on board, and then the rest is up to you. There are a few nights in sleeper cars with bunk beds, which we may not be able to help, but there are also hotels booked along the way in New York, Chicago, Denver, and San Francisco, which you’re welcome to have to yourself. I’m happy to find somewhere else to stay. All that I ask is that you stick with me long enough to get us both on the train at each stop. We can sort the rest of the details later.
So if your name is Margaret Campbell and you’re interested in a bit of an adventure, please email me at [email protected] with the answers to these three questions, and if there’s more than one entry, I’ll pick the grand-prize winner once I’ve read them:
What’s your biggest dream?
What’s your biggest fear?
What’s the most important thing you’d bring with you on the train?
Good luck, Margaret Campbells of the world—I’m counting on you!
Cheers,
Hugo W.
They’re just about finished when they hear Mum calling them down for dinner. Out the bedroom window, a fog has settled over the garden, the edges laced with gold as the sun sets. Hugo presses his laptop shut, but Alfie reaches out and opens it again.
“You didn’t post it.”
Hugo’s eyes flick back to the glowing screen. “I’ll do it after dinner.”
“This isn’t a homework assignment,” George teases him. “You don’t have to proof it a thousand times.”
“I know. I—”
Alfie frowns. “He’s pulling a Hugo.”
