Eric left around 3am. April drifted off with a small smile on her face, after setting her phone alarm to get her up in time so she could shower, dress, and be in her little convertible and back up to the Pub ready to be picked up by Rachael for their weekend getaway.
As it was, she barely made it. The traffic out of London was heavier than she imagined, and she got back to the pub just in time to dump her bags, grab a backpack she'd already stuffed with clothes, transfer her toiletries, hit the bath room and be down stairs again ready to be picked up. While she waited, she made her daily phone call and chatted with Dan Boutrous, who indicated there was no news about Lee. He still hadn't woken up from whatever state he was in.
Rachael was right on time, and although April was yawning a lot, she chatted during the whole drive down to Kent. They went via the M25, taking the Dartford Crossing, and then down the A2, which became the M2, taking them all the way to Canterbury.
Rachael kept up her narration the whole way. April had managed to persuade Rachael to get something to eat at the South Mimms services off the M25, and she had a large diet coke, to get herself awake, which worked wonders. She spent the whole time just staring out of the window, and listening to Rachael talk about where they were and her experiences there. It washed over her like a warm blanket, and she counted herself lucky to be there. This was
real
England, not the tourist trap she'd encountered so far.
Canterbury was a dream. Some cobblestone streets, close to the Cathedral. Rachael took her through it - she mentioned that as a kid, she did tours of it. She saw where Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered, where the knights stayed in Palace Street before setting off to kill him, after the king had famously declared without thinking, "Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?"
She wandered through the town, with Rachael as her guide, pointing out the places she'd known as a girl. They had lunch and a pint each at the Seven Stars Pub, and a drink later at the pub by the river, The Millers Arms. April discovered a small shop in the shadow of the entrance to the Cathedral that sold handmade pottery, made on the premises, and she actually bought an entire dinner plate and presentation set, and then had the proprietor package it and ship it to her home in Washington. That would be something unique, she noted.
In the afternoon, they drove out to Sturry, where she was shown the old town hall, and the ducking stool there. Rachael explained that they had one in Canterbury too, and it was used to teach nagging wives a lesson. April was aghast at how narrow the roads were around there, barely wide enough for one car, yet bi-directional. She gasped in fear at the speed at which Rachael's driver took them.
She learned about Oast Houses, where the barley and hops for beer making were grown in Kent, and how during the 1930's and 40's, how it was a favorite holiday destination, where the less well-off would come from London for a working holiday, picking the hops and then storing them in the distinctive Oast houses, with the tall cone like roofs.
Then they stopped off in Herne Bay for the evening. This is where Rachael grew up, a small Victorian town, that was built up as a weekend getaway for the folks in London. It used to have a long pier - one of the three longest in the world, where the paddle steamers from London would tie up and discharge passengers. The pier, like the paddle steamers, was now long gone, but evidence of it survived. Herne Bay was next in line on the northern Kentish Coast, next to Whitstable, another town entering a renaissance. Whitstable was famous for the offshore oyster banks, and it was now a popular weekend destination for Londoners, exactly as it had been a hundred years earlier.
They stayed in a new flat, recently built, right on the edge of the sea, at the end of William Street. Rachael mentioned she owned it, and always would, as a way of keeping her ties to the town where she grew up.
They had a surprisingly good meal at an Iranian restaurant on the sea front, and wandered back, talking at length about what a good man actually was. Rachael postulated that a good man would stand by you, and support you, and while April agreed, she also stipulated a good man wouldn't tie you down. As long as you made it clear before you married he should support you in whatever it was you wanted to do. There was more than a little wine consumed, so there was much giggling as the girls walked back to the flat, looking out over the Thames Estuary, the moonlight reflecting off the water.
Right by where the flat was, Rachael stopped dead, next to a small café, called Macari's.
"I had my first job here, you know. I was fifteen. I worked the summer in there," she said, waving a little unsteadily at the café. "I could never work the ice cream machine. I could never stop it. People would come in to get a fifty pence ice cream and walk about with five quids worth because I could never stop the damn thing."
She dissolved into giggles, and then said, "And there used to be a pub 'round the corner. The Dolphin. I had my first grown up job there, as a barmaid, when I was eighteen. I used to watch so many people get pissed as a fart on Friday and Saturday nights. It was quite the education, don't you know."
There was a moment's silence as both women digested the conversation.
"I
may
have drunk a little bit too much," Rachael finished up, in a very serious and posh voice. And then she giggled some more.
"How can that be possible, Rach?" asked April, equally unstable. "We've only drunk two bottles?"
"Each," replied Rachael, wagging her finger at April.
They somehow made it back to the flat. April woke up in the spare bedroom with light pouring in since she hadn't drawn the curtains.
They spent the morning with Rachael showing April Reculver, explaining that the ruins there used to be a Roman church, and when it was built, it was a mile inland. Now, they had to use concrete to shore up the cliff the ruins stood on, to stop further erosion. She explained how beyond the ruins, where the land flattened, it used to be a sea, and how the ruins played a part in World War II, as practice for the bombers who dropped bombs in the Edersee and Mohne dams in Germany, blowing them out and drowning the munitions factories built underneath them. The events were made famous in the film 'The Dam Busters', with it's amazing bouncing bomb, a canister bomb designed to skip along waves, much like stones thrown by children that skip along wave tops.
It was a charming, if somewhat cold morning. The cold wind was coming in off the north sea, and they held off the chill with some hair of the dog at the local pub, The King Ethelbert. They chatted more - April briefly debated telling Rachael about Lee, but decided this wasn't the time. Rachael needed some time to herself, with the company of a friend. And she was certainly becoming that. April was amazed at herself. Finally, she had a friend who understood all of what she did - someone who was not part of Ingrams, but not only didn't judge her, but actively needed her skill set. She wasn't another therapist, like Maryanne Dubowski - not a professional. Just a friend.
The more April considered it, the more she had begun to realize how much she needed Rachael's friendship - as much as Rachael needed her right now. This weekend had sealed it - April hadn't delighted in the company of another woman who wasn't a target in years. Someone who wasn't a lover, or a lover wannabe. Just a friend, who knew all about her and accepted her anyway. It was sobering to realize how much of a void in her life there was in this area.
They wound up with Lunch at The Grove Ferry, a delightful little pub, where Rachael told April all about how the stone to build the Cathedral had come from France, all brought down on barges, down the river, which had been significantly wider than it was now.
April reveled in it. This was real history, thousands of years old. American History was basically "what happened last night", in comparison.
They drove back after lunch, stopping off at the Bluewater Shopping Centre. April immediately felt at home - this mall could be located in Washington, California, Chicago, any metropolitan American City. It was huge, full of bustling people and pretty much the archetype of an American mall.
Despite that, the two of them still managed to wander and end up with bags of purchases - a couple of new tops, three dresses, one a backless maxi dress, one a work dress and one a pretty sun dress from Dorothy Perkins. April was happy. She hadn't enjoyed a weekend like this in a long time.
April was dropped off at the pub late in the afternoon, where she spent the rest of the day taking a long, languorous shower, and catching up with the Ingrams offices, both in the US and in London.
The following week was a heavy one in term of PA work for April. Rachael was attending a symposium in London from Wednesday til Friday, and there was a lot of organizing for the talk she was giving, plus meeting arrangements and the rest.
Once Rachael was on her way to London on Wednesday, April took off early and headed to London herself, to meet with Mark and George, at the clinic where Lee had been admitted. They had mentioned on the morning call that there was news, and they all needed to be there to talk to the specialist later that day.
She walked into the waiting room at the clinic at four thirty on the dot, to find Mark and George already there. She nodded at George, and said to Mark, "Am I late?"
"Nah, he's just on his way out apparently."
As he said it, the door opened, and the specialist came out. It wasn't the man they'd seen before, this was an older balding man, with a van dyke beard and a set of pince-nez glasses on his face, along with a fierce tan, suggesting a recent trip to the tropics, along with evidence of childhood acne that must have been quite severe at the time to still be in evidence this late in life.
He held a clipboard and looked around the waiting room, asking, "I'm looking for a Mark Scholtz. Is he here?"
Mark got up and waved and they all converged on the doctor.
"All of you for this fella? Popular guy. OK then, let's go to my office. I'm Doctor Searby, by the way"
The Doctor kept up a steady stream of conversation all the way to his office, without actually managing to say anything of importance at all. April and George exchanged a quick glance, trying to suppress a smile.
Once seated his office, Doctor Searby picked up an X-ray slide and stuck it in the back lit display and then turned to the trio and said, "Any of you know what an epileptic fit actually is?"
George and Mark looked blankly at each other, while April responded, "It's an electrical brain storm. Lots of misfiring of neurons, if I remember my basic brain biology class."
"Score one for the colonial," responded Searby, admiringly. "That's exactly right. It's basically a neurological problem. The wiring isn't quite up to snuff, and when certain wires are crossed, well, it shorts out. That's your fit. The way we scan for a fit is generally to wire a subject up to an EKG and then give them various triggers until they start a fit and then record what is going on in the brain, to observe if what we see conforms to a storm in the brain. What you are seeing here is a classic epileptic fit, recorded directly from Mr. Hicks' brain."
Everyone nodded.
"But here's the bit that I don't get, and none of the experts I've consulted with get either. This is the strangest epileptic fit I've ever seen. While the fit itself is entirely consistent with the heavier fits, and the recovery time after is within the upper bounds of what we've seen in the past... the triggers... well."
"Triggers, Doc?" asked George.
