Finding Arun by Marisha Pink Page B

of
the door before her emotions engulfed her so fully that she
wouldn’t be able to let him leave.
    Aaron waved goodbye to his weeping aunt and marched
purposefully towards the waiting car. He slung his bags across the
back seat and slammed the door shut, before clambering into the
front beside Arthur. He fastened his seat belt while the old man
reversed out of the driveway, and when the car swung out onto the
road, Aunt Ruby and the house slowly disappeared from view. Soon
they were winding their way along the dark suburban roads at high
speed, the dulcet tones of The Moody Blues’ ‘Nights in White Satin’
playing softly over the rhythmic chugging of the engine. Arthur was
silent, pretending to concentrate on navigating the twisting lanes
whilst Aaron stared impassively out of the window, unable to see
anything through the darkness. The car began to pick up pace and
when they turned onto the motorway the sun was just starting to
rise in the distance.
    ‘Looks like it’s going to be a nice day,’ said
Arthur, clearing his throat but keeping his eyes firmly fixed on
the road ahead.
    Aaron turned to face forwards, nodding in agreement,
but unsure what else he could add. It wasn’t the most scintillating
of conversations, but he knew that Arthur would not be at ease
discussing what was really on his mind and right now he could think
of nothing else. He felt so anxious that he thought he might be
sick and the speeding car was doing little to calm the butterflies
that filled his stomach. Arthur opened his mouth to say something
further, but quickly changed his mind and instead reached for the
stereo to crank the volume higher. The pair continued to travel
along in silence, the fields lining the roadside slipping by in a
hazy green blur, and one by one the junction numbers steadily crept
towards a climax. Signs for Heathrow Airport started to appear more
frequently and before Aaron knew it they had reached the drop-off
point outside Terminal 3.
    Leaving the engine running and without saying a
word, Arthur quickly dismounted and began to wrestle the backpack
out of the rear passenger door. Aaron climbed down from the car and
walked round to the driver’s side to relieve him of the bag, but
Arthur retained a firm grip on the straps. Travellers rushed all
about them, zealously loading their suitcases onto trolleys and
wheeling them off towards the terminal building, but the pair stood
across from one another immobilised by their awkwardness. Arthur
looked everywhere but at Aaron, struggling to find the words to
express himself, and Aaron wondered how long he would be forced to
stand there before he could prise the bag from his father’s fingers
without seeming ungrateful or impatient.
    Seeming to sense that he was running out of time,
Arthur cleared his throat and began to speak.
    ‘You … you will come back soon, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes, Arthur. I’ve already told you about a million
times that I will,’ responded Aaron, somewhat exasperated by the
question.
    Arthur looked pensively at his son for a moment and
then suddenly lurched forward, flinging his arms around Aaron’s
neck in an action indistinct from the one that he had chastised his
sister for earlier that morning. He hugged Aaron long and hard
before quickly withdrawing and retreating to the safety of the car.
He kept his head hung low while he fastened his seat belt, refusing
to meet Aaron’s astonished gaze, and within seconds the Land Rover
was speeding away from the terminal building.
    Aaron stood rooted to the spot, bewildered by
Arthur’s odd impromptu farewell. Often detached and unemotional,
yet seeming to care deep down, the old man's behaviour had become
increasingly unpredictable and erratic since Catherine’s death,
particularly when it came to Aaron. It was a concern that he had
shared with Aunt Ruby out of an old sense of duty, but in truth it
was something that he was glad to escape from. It was awkward and
unfamiliar, and he had neither the