A Grand Adventure

This was supposed to be a grand adventure. This was supposed to be a gap year, forty years on. This was supposed to be fun. It was not supposed to make your shoulders, lower back and knees ache. It was not supposed to be smelly, dirty, confusing or frightening. Yet, here it was. In a strange city, not only could she not speak the language, she could not even read it.

Her backpack was too heavy, she had lacked the discipline to leave behind 'essentials' that were really only fipperies. No one cared if she was not colour-coordinated. There were rounded cobbles underfoot, polished by the feet of centuries, lumpy enough to make each step a penance. On each side of this narrow alley, blank walls, covered with peeling stucco, made a heat-filled canyon under a sky filled with sunset mauve. Maggie sniffed back a pang of self pity, then regretted it. Drains. Or sewage. Or something.

There was supposed to be a cheap hostel around here. Somewhere. She had allowed her resources to dwindle to zilch. Two days ago she had sold her phone to a dubious young man who had given her a wad of cash that had enormous numbers on each note. And virtually zero value. It had bought a dish of chicken, rice and green things that slid down like gooey slugs. She trudged on. There was no one to ask the way. Worse, her conviction that everyone spoke English had been proved entirely false. A map would have helped. A map that she could not read because she did not understand the local script.

A wave of noise lapped down the lane like a tide. Behind it, dragged the delicious aroma of frying and spices. People were shouting in high-pitched whines. Others were grunting arguments. A donkey was braying sarcastic laughter. Smoke, cloying incense, stale urine and a sudden blast of raucous bang and twang music from a radio. She turned a corner and signed with relief. It was the market place and a run down blue structure had the word 'Hostel' painted on it.

'Do you speak English?' The little, dark featured woman behind the reception desk gazed at her with unblinking doe eyes and nervously adjusted the scarlet scarf over her head. 'I need a bed...'

'Aye, missus, we 'ave that.' Not only English, but broad Yorkshire. 'It ain't much but I reckon I can find a nice corner for yer, Mrs Avery.' Maggie realised her jaw was hanging off its hinges. 'Don'tcha knows me? I was in your class.' The gappy grin and another flick of the scarf triggered a memory of a constant chatterer whose hand would go up to answer every question. A nice lass, a thorough nuisance and a ceiling painter.

'Supna?' It came out of the memory draw it had been filed in. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

'Me an' Jason owns this place.' She squared her shoulders.

'Jason?' How many Jasons had she struggled to teach maths to?

'Jason Wang. You 'member 'im, Miss. He wore in 10RG when I wuz in 8MA.' The image of a lanky lad, whose parents owned a Chinese takeaway, drifted across her mind's eye. He could add and subtract like lightning and always caught her mental arithmetic mistakes. Which were many. She could do calculus, geometry, statistics, but sums made her sweat. 'He 'ad a bit of a lottery win so we nipped off 'ere and bought a bit of an 'otel.' Supna had that sideways sneaky look about her.

'Nipped off?' Maggie could feel her eyebrows pushing up her hairline.

Supna took a deep breath, 'Eloped.' She raised her chin.

'I don't suppose your parents were too happy about that.' Supna and Jason, children of strictly traditional families.

'Oh. They'll come round once we're rich.' The chin went a fraction higher.

'Well, congratulations.' Maggie sighed awkwardly. 'What's the cheapest bed you've got? I don't have much cash at the moment.' With any luck,her pension would be in the bank in a couple of days.

'No charge. I owe you, 'member? All them times wot you paid my dinner money.' She turned away and screeched. 'Jay! Jay!' Look who's 'ere!'

Jason Wang was taller, lankier and still slouched as if a wet towel was dragging him down. His jaw dropped lower than Maggie's had earlier. 'Mrs Avery.' He still stuttered.

'Maggie. I hung up my briefcase and retired.' Jason was going to catch flies in that mouth soon. 'So I decided to take a belated gap year before I...' now she stuttered, '... did old people things.'

'But ain't a gap year between leavin' school and goin' to university?' Supna frowned. Maggie hid a smile, Supna had asked a question and almost shot her arm up, to paint a phantom ceiling.

'I've just left school.' Maggie stuck out her lower lip. 'Let's delegate next steps to tomorrow. Meanwhile, I need a bed and a shower.'

'Room five.' Jason said. 'It's small but it's private. The showers and toilet block are out back.' He winced as his wife kicked him. 'But if you go through the kitchen, you can use ours.'

'And come to tea.' Supna said. 'About eightish. We can 'ave a proper chin wag. I ain't seen anyone from Leeds for ages.'

A month later, Maggie was the cook. She turned out a fine egg and chips. A year later she was babysitting their firstborn. Three years later she was back in the drizzle of a Yorkshire autumn. It had been an adventure of the first order but now she had old people things to do.

'Are they here here yet, Nan?' Jamil wrapped his hand in hers. 'Are they here yet, mutti?' He looked at Supna, who rolled her eyes at Jason. He did not notice. He was staring across the restaurant in shock.

'There's Mr and Mrs Wang.' Maggie braced herself. 'And Mr and Mrs Singh.' A new adventure was beginning.

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