Lucy Christopher - Stolen

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Lucy Christopher

You saw me before I saw you. In the airport, that day in August, you had that look in your eyes, as though you wanted something from me, as though youd wanted it for a long time. No one had ever looked at me like that before, with that kind of intensity. It unsettled me, surprised me I guess. Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. Theyre pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful too.

You blinked quickly when I looked at you, and turned away, as if you were nervous as if you felt guilty because youd just been checking out some random girl in an airport. But I wasnt random, was I? And it was a good act. I fell for it. Its funny, but I always thought I could trust blue eyes. I thought they were safe somehow. All the good guys have baby blues. The dark eyes are for the villains the Grim Reaper, the Joker, zombies. All dark.

I

I had been arguing with my parents. Mum hadnt been happy too intense to stare into for long. about my skimpy top, and Dad was just grumpy from lack of

You had a note ready. Foreign money. You smiled at me. I dont think i said thank you. Sorry about that. sleep. So, seeing you I guess it was a welcome diversion. Is that how youd planned it: wait until my parents had a go at me

before you approached? I knew, even then, that youd been watching me. There was a strange sort of familiarity about you. Id seen you before somewhere but who were you? My eyes kept flitting back to your face.

Youd been with me since London. Id seen you in the checkin line with your small carry-on bag. Id seen you on the plane. And now, here you were, in Bangkok airport, sitting in the coffee shop where I was about to order coffee.

1 ordered my coffee and waited for it to be made. I fumbled with my money. I didnt look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The tiny hairs on my neck bristled every time you blinked.

The cashier held on to the coffee cup until I had my money ready. Kenny, his name badge said; strange how I can remem ber that.

We dont take British coins, Kenny said, after hed watched me count them out. Dont you have a note?

I used it in London.

Kenny shook his head and pulled the coffee back towards

him. Theres a cash machine next to Duty Free.

I felt someone move up behind me. I turned.

Let me buy it, you said. Your voice was low and soft, like

it was meant only for me, and your accent was strange. The

short-sleeved shirt you were wearing smelt like eucalyptus, and

there was a small scar on the edge of your cheek. Your eyes were

drink from Kenny. The paper coffee cup bent a little as you grabbed it.

Sugar? One?

I nodded; too flustered by you being there, talking to me, to

do anything else.

Dont worry, Ill do it. You sit down. You gestured to where

youd been sitting; at a table between the fake palm trees, over

by the window.

I hesitated. But youd anticipated I would. You touched me gently on the shoulder, your hand warm through my top. Hey, its OK, I wont bite, you said softly. Theres no other seats anyway, not unless you want to sit with the Addams family over there.

I followed your gaze to the empty chairs next to a large family. Two of the smaller kids were crawling over the table, the parents arguing across them. I wonder now what would have happened if I had sat next to them? We could have talked about kills holidays and strawberry milkshakes. Then I would have returned to my parents. I looked up at your face; with the smile creases around your mouth. The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.

I only just escaped my family, I said. I dont want another yet.

Nice work. You winked. One sugar it is then.

You guided me towards where youd been sitting. Other cus tomers were sitting near your small table, making me feel more

confident to approach it. It took me ten steps to get there. I walked in a kind of daze and sat in the chair facing the window. I watched you take the drink to the stand and lift the lid off. I saw you pour the sugar in, hair falling over your eyes as you bent your head. You smiled as you noticed me looking. I wonder if that was when it happened. Were you smiling as you did it?

I think I must have looked away for a moment, to watch the planes taking off behind the glass. There was a jumbo jet teeter ing on its back wheels, black fumes hanging in the air behind. There was another lining up to go. Your hands must have been quick, tipping it in. Did you use any kind of distraction tech nique, I wonder, or was nobody looking anyway? It was some kind of powder I suppose, though not much of it. Perhaps it looked like sugar. It didnt taste any different.

I turned to see you walking back, smoothly avoiding all the coffee-carrying passengers who stepped out in front of you. You didnt look at any of them. Only me. Perhaps thats why nobody else seemed to notice. You moved too much like a hunter, padding silently next to the row of plastic pot plants as you made your line towards me.

You put two coffees on the table and pushed one in my

direction, ignoring the other. You picked up a teaspoon and

twirled it idly around your fingers, spinning it around your

thumb then catching it again. I looked at your face. You were

beautiful in a rough sort of way, but you were older than Id

realised. Too old for me to be sitting there with you really. Early

to mid-twenties probably, maybe more. From a distance, when

Id seen you at the checkin line, your body had looked thin

and small, like the eighteen-year-olds at my school, but up close, really looking, I could see that your arms were hard and tanned, and the skin on your face was weathered. You were as brown as a stretch of dirt.

Im Ty, you said. Your eyes darted away, then back again, before you reached out your hand towards me. Your fingers were warm and rough on the back of my hand as you took it and held onto it, but didnt really shake it. You raised an eyebrow, and I realised what

you wanted. Gemma, I said, before I meant to. You nodded as though you already knew. But, of course,

suppose you already did. Where are your parents? Theyve already gone to the gate, theyre waiting for me

there. I felt nervous then so I added, I said I wouldnt be long

- just getting a coffee. One corner of your mouth turned up again, and you laughed a little. When does the flight leave? bout an hour. And wheres it going?

Vietnam. You looked impressed. I smiled at you, for the first time I think. My mum goes all the time, I added. Shes a curator - kind of like an artist who collects instead of paints.

I dont know why I felt I had to explain. Just habit, I guess,

from all the kids at school who ask but dont know anything. Your dad? He works in the city stockbroker. Suited and booted then.

Something like that. Pretty boring, looking after other peoples money not that he thinks so.

1 could feel myself starting to babble, so I took a sip of coffee to shut me up. As I drank, I watched a small trickle of sweat travel down your hairline. You couldnt have been hot though; the air conditioner was beating directly onto us. Your eyes were flicking nervously all over the place, not always able to meet my gaze. That edginess made you seem shy; made me like you even more. But there was still something about you, hovering in my memory.

So, you murmured. What is it you want to do then? Get a job like your dad? Travel like your mum? I shrugged. Thats what theyd like. I dont know. Nothing

really seems right. Not meaningful enough? Yeah, maybe. I mean, they just collect stuff. Dad collects

peoples money and Mum collects peoples drawings. What do they really do thats theirs?