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Business-class travel. If you haven’t done it, then you can only imagine it. And once you have done it, you can never unimagine it – you are ruined for life. It is probably the single greatest reason to be wealthy that there is.
I sip my champagne. It’s barely nine o’clock in the morning, I’ve been up since 3 a.m. and my palate is nowhere near ready for the sour audacity of it, but I drink it nonetheless because I can. I picture Lucy in London, returning from her school run, wondering why I’m not bustling about in the kitchen, wondering where I am. I suspect she will guess, and quickly. We may be very different, Lucy and I, but our connection runs deep, even after twenty-five years apart. You find that with children who’ve shared a childhood trauma: it’s like a fine wire that runs between you; you can feel the tug on it from time to time. And I feel it now. I know that she’s about to call Libby, that Libby will call Miller, that mydisappearance is about to become a thing, a drama. But hey-ho. I’m in the air. By the time I get off this flight, they will not have a clue how to track me down.
They will think I’ve gone to Botswana. But I have not gone to Botswana. I am on my way to Chicago.
It’s all a bit last-minute. Obviously.
I had booked a flight to Victoria Falls Airport and a hire car to take me on to the reserve. I have lost a lot of money but thankfully the hotel booking was cancellable so at least I have that back. And frankly, I’m rather glad I don’t have to go to a game reserve in Africa. It’s not really my idea of a good time, whereas Chicago very much is.
So, why Chicago?
Well, late last night I went on to Tripadvisor to look at reviews of the Chobe Game Lodge. I thought it would be good to have a better idea of where exactly I was going and what exactly I was letting myself in for. And I came upon a review from a very jolly, chatty woman who’d stayed there as a single person two weeks earlier. Her review was full of name checks for members of staff she’d found particularly helpful and kind and she sounded like the type of person who would be more than happy to share her experiences with a complete stranger messaging her out of the blue. And indeed she was. Nancy Romano from New Jersey. So chatty. I asked if she had any recommendations amongst the tour guides; was there someone in particular maybe I should look out for who was more knowledgeable than the others?
Yes!she replied.Look out for Finn! He’s English, like you, quite quiet, but so insightful and knowledgeable, has a lovely way with words and really brings the scene to life. Such a nice man.
I replied along the lines of what a shame as someone else had recommended him but according to the reservations team, it seemed he’d disappeared on a family emergency.
Oh, yes, Nancy had replied.He has family in Chicago, I believe. I hope nothing terrible has happened.
Who knows whether the ‘family in Chicago’ is fictional or real?
The four of us – me, Lucy, Phin, his sister Clemency – we’ve all had to live covertly and dishonestly, we’ve all had to fly under the radar, change our names, build fake lives and backstories for ourselves. I didn’t have a passport until ten years ago; I used to pretend I had a phobia of flying to get out of invitations to go abroad with friends, which I then had to extend into a phobia of tunnels when someone suggested going to France on the Eurostar. So it’s highly possible that Phin has a stock narrative that he uses to explain himself to strangers. But I don’t know, I have a strong feeling that this other life in Chicago might be true. And either way, I suppose I’m about to find out.
