Once the van was untethered, Declan and I climbed into the cab and headed out onto the country lanes. Appleby was only a wee place, and it took all of ten minutes to get to the other hitchin’ site. It was a route I knew all too well from the years I’d spent going back and forth here with my parents as a wain. As we turned in, passing through a set of iron gates, my palms grew sweaty.
“Y’any idea where she’d be parked up, like?” Declan asked, slowing the van and glancing left to right in search of the caravan.
I nodded. “Aye. It’ll be where me da always hitched it. Keep on goin’, now. t’ the back.”
Declan did as I said and as the van swung around at the end of the long, gravel driveway, I spotted my family caravan. From the outside it looked much the same, albeit a little dirtier than I was used to seeing it. My ma had been meticulous about scrubbing the thing floor to ceiling, inside and out. To see the dark smudges of algae down the sides of the pale plastic spoke a thousand words.
Declan parked up, turning off the ignition. We simply sat in silence for a moment, staring at the caravan.
“Y’got a wee set o’ keys f’her?” he asked.
“Nah, but I’d bet me arse that the spares are still hidden under the wheel arch.”
I opened the door, stepping out and heading over to the caravan. Inside was gloomy and silent, haunted by dark memories. I hunted around beneath the arch of one of the wheels, fingers finding the spare set of keys glued there almost immediately. I pulled them free, slotted them into the lock, and pushed it open. I hesitated at the doorway, frozen to the spot as I battled with myself. What would I find inside? Is this where that monster had pummelled my ma to death? Had the evidence been cleaned up, or would I still see her blood spatter on the walls?
“Y’want me t’ go on ahead f’ya?” Declan asked at my back.
I sagged with relief and stepped aside. I didn’t need to say anything, my mate hefting himself up and cautiously stepping inside. He flicked the lights, but the caravan remained dark. The battery had long since run flat.
Declan disappeared from view, and I stood still and silent, barely breathing as I awaited Declan’s assessment of the state on the place. A moment or two later, he was poking his head back out.
“Neat as a feckin’ pin it is, fella,” he said. “I’d be doubtin’ anyone lived here if I didn’t know better.”
I climbed up to join Declan, glancing around the familiar caravan. It was jarring to be standing here after all this time. This place had once been my entire world, and yet now I stood here as a grown man, feeling like a stranger.
Declan was right, the place was fixed up like a show home. It was only when I began looking through cabinets that I realised why. Someone had been in here and cleared the place out. All my family’s belongings were gone, every cupboard empty. There wasn’t even a speck of dust left behind… but there was one spot I was certain they’d have missed.
With Declan watching me curiously, I opened up one of the lower cabinets in the kitchenette and with a grunt of effort, I pushed against the back panel. It came free and I fished around in the cavity until I found just what I was looking for. I pulled out a metal petty cash tin, rubbing dust and debris from the surface.
“What’s that, like?” Declan asked, leaning in for a closer look.
“It’s where me ma kept all her shite that she didn’t want me da pawnin’ f’drink money,” I replied. I carefully opened the tin, a soft smile creeping across my face as I unveiled just what I had hoped to see. The tin was just as she’d left it – a few pieces of jewellery, some relics from her youth and something else that took my breath away. Fighting against a swell of emotion, I picked up an over-processed photograph of my ma, smiling with me on her lap. I was just a wain, probably no more than four or five. I had no memory of this day, but it had clearly meant a lot to my ma if she’d hidden it in here. My vision swam, blurring with tears and I hastily swiped them away.
“Shite, sorry,” I muttered, suddenly acutely aware that Declan was standing over me.
“F’what?” he replied. “F’cryin’ ‘cause ya mas passed? Don’t be a feckin’ dafty, John-Francis.”
When Declan reached out and squeezed my shoulder, I almost lost it. Sensing I needed a minute, he headed back outside and left me with my emotions.
I didn’t allow myself to feel my grief for too long. After a minute or two, I scrubbed my hand down my face, sucking in a deep breath before grappling myself back under control. I spent a short while inspecting the rest of the caravan before reuniting with my mate outside. Declan was puffing on a cigarette and looked up when I jumped down onto the gravel beside him.
“So? What’re ya thinkin’? Are we keepin’ her or torchin’ her, now?” he asked.
I glanced back over my shoulder. I had expected to feel some type of way about being back inside my childhood home – angry, disgusted, guilty… but certainly notglad.I supposed grief could make a fella do weird shite.
“I’d be keepin’ her,” I said. “Seems a waste t’ torch a perfectly good caravan. It’s been cleaned up nice inside. She needs a wee scrub outside an’ a new battery but I reckon she’ll come good.”
“Need a new set too, fella,” Declan replied, kicking his foot against one of the tyres, flat as a pancake.
“Aye, an’ I’d be bettin’ me da’s van has seen better days an’ all. I’d be takin’ that down t’ the scrappie. Piece o’ shite will be worth more weighed in than tryin’ t’ sell it on I reckon.”
Declan nodded. “We’ll find ya a wee runaround. I bet someone around camp will be happy t’ cut us a good deal on a motor, f’sure.”
“Sounds like a plan, fella. Y’wanna handle the new wheels an’ I’ll get the rest in order?”
“Aye, sound.” Declan held out his fist, and I bumped my knuckles against it.
“Let’s get crackin’. We’ll be back on the road in no time, aye.”
