A Smooth Ride Down to Faro

By John Atherton

There is enough turmoil and misery in the world already, and I have no intention of adding to it - hence “A Smooth Ride Down to Faro” - no violence, no strong language, no witchcraft.

Be intrigued, laugh, cry - even get annoyed!  Love some of the characters, loathe others. But don’t assume anything – you’ll probably be wrong! Follow the twists and turns, and expect the unexpected. Be uplifted as you read, and restore your faith in human feelings, loyalty and morality. 

This is volume one of The Calbury Chronicles, a series of novels following the lives of two people who fall in love with each other but, thinking that any lasting relationship is impossible, they go their separate ways. The story opens in 1988 when Ben and Belinda Jackson are flying to Portugal for a short holiday. The flight is delayed and Bens’ thoughts drift back to 1983 when, as an eighteen-year-old graduate from Calbury Grammar School, he said “goodbye” to a woman he promised never to forget – his former Physics Teacher.

Meanwhile, in the background, rumbles another story of unreciprocated love, arson and cover-ups. But who is guilty, and can anything be proved?

Enjoy the ride!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Apr 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781803138046

Book preview

Contents

Preface

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

Preface

July of 1983 was a pivotal month for the lads of the Upper Sixth Form College of Calbury Grammar School. They had been together for more or less the last seven years, apart from a few departures and the odd newcomer. Oh, and not that long ago, two expulsions. The last year had, to say the least, been eventful.

Now things were about to change; it was the end of term. The A level exams were over. The results would be known in August. Calbury Grammar was a good school, and many of the students would achieve the required grades and go on to university. For those who didn’t, and those for whom the big wide world beckoned, it would mean leaving and either taking a college course or finding a job. In any case the summer stretched ahead. But for one member of the sixth form college, and for a woman he could only have dreamed of meeting, it would mean the start of an episode in their lives that would take years to come to completion, if indeed it ever would.

1

Sunday 19th June, 1988

Thoughts were dancing inside Ben Jackson’s head, making sleep impossible. As he lay on his back, hands behind his head, he gazed through the gaps in the thin wooden slats of the venetian blind that partially covered the bedroom window. He could see that it was a beautiful, calm June night. An occasional star sparkled despite the sky not being completely dark. He looked at the alarm clock….2.37am. Although the dawn was still a couple of hours away, he could already hear a bird twittering in the trees beyond the open window.

‘Maybe he can’t sleep either,’ he thought. ‘But what has he got to worry about? At least he can fly,’ he mumbled to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of teacups chinking together. It was no good, he may as well get up, even though the alarm clock would have allowed him another twenty-three minutes in bed. He reached over and switched off the alarm.

Making his way to the kitchen along the dimly lit hallway of the apartment, Ben tried to avoid the two pre-packed travel bags he had placed there the previous evening. Bright yellow plastic labels were attached to their handles, along with some pink and green ribbons. That was Belinda’s idea - a good way of spotting them in baggage reclaim. He thought the colour combination could have been better but, so what? It didn’t matter. And, of course, there was a small case containing a violin. Belinda took one everywhere she went – even on holiday.

Belinda Jackson looked around to find Ben standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes half closed to protect them from the spotlights in the ceiling. She walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek, ‘Good morning Mr. Happy,’ she said. ‘What are you having - tea? It’s a bit early for coffee.’

‘Neither. I can’t stomach anything just now,’ he replied.

Belinda hadn’t slept all that well either. ‘Look Ben, it’s going to be at least seven hours before we get to the hotel,’ she said impatiently. ‘You’ve got to eat and drink. At least have something, even if you don’t feel like it,’ she pleaded.

‘Yeah, I know. But you know how I am. I’ll have something at the airport. Do you want to use the bathroom first or should I?’

*

At 4am precisely, an eight-seater minibus arrived. The driver left the engine running while he took Ben and Belinda’s bags, loaded them into the rear of the taxi and slammed the doors shut. A light came on in a window across the street and Ben hoped he hadn’t disturbed the neighbours. By this time the sky was getting brighter and the birds were in full song, a blackbird leading the chorus.

Ben and Belinda climbed into the rear seats of the minibus, and were greeted by another couple who exchanged a sleepy ‘hello’. Straight away, Belinda struck up a conversation with them. Ben was polite, but was not in the mood for talking, and remained silent for most of the fifty- minute drive to the airport. With just four of them in the taxi, at least there was room for him to spread out and maintain some personal space.

The drive to the airport was completed much faster than Ben would have liked. In what seemed like no time at all, the minibus was drawing to a halt at the airport’s Terminal One drop-off point. As they exited the taxi, the place was full of noise. Above the general sound of car engines, doors echoing as they slammed shut, bags being hauled across the concrete pavement and people talking loudly over the din, there was the muffled whine and semi-muted roar of an aircraft taking off. As Ben looked towards the far end of the building he could just make out the shape of a large aircraft silhouetted against the orange-purple dawn sky, its navigation lights flashing as it headed skywards. He wondered where it was going. He took a deep breath. There was the faint smell of jet exhaust fumes which instantly reminded him of his childhood, and of the paraffin heater his father used to have in his garden shed twenty years ago.

At this point, for Ben, the reality of actually flying hit him. He could back out and go home, but that was not an option - he couldn’t let Belinda down at this point. Apart from a short trip to London, he had successfully avoided flying until now. That flight had lasted only twenty-eight minutes but Ben had counted every one, and had not enjoyed any of them. Despite having a return ticket, he had taken the train home that day. This flight was nearly three hours. He thought about it again. No, he owed it to Belinda not to back out.

The vast majority of people were still in bed at this time of the morning, but as Ben and Belinda pushed their baggage trolley into the departures check in hall, the place seemed chaotic. Lines of people were queuing everywhere. One or two of them looked as though they hadn’t been to bed, and some looked as though they’d just left a party after a heavy night out. A minority of them seemed to know where they were going, but most of them just looked tired, impatient, and confused, as they edged slowly forward in the queue towards the check-in desks.

However, the system worked, and without much delay Ben and Belinda found themselves in another queue, this time at one of the departure lounge cafes, waiting to be served. The service was slow but eventually their breakfasts arrived. Ben paid the young man at the till, and they found a table.

Belinda opened her white polystyrene box which contained something resembling food. At that time of the morning the box looked more appetising than its contents.

‘My breakfast has been microwaved to perfection,’ she joked. ‘How do you feel?’

She watched Ben slowly stir his coffee. His bacon roll had not been very warm when it was served. By now it was cold.

‘I’ll be okay when I’m on the plane.’

‘Do you know something?’ asked Belinda. ‘I think your problem is that you always like to be in control of things – and when you’re on a plane, you’re not. That’s exactly you.’

‘That’s part of it. But I hate not knowing exactly where I am.’

‘Hey, Ben. You’re almost twenty-four years old. Stop acting like a big kid. I’m sure the pilot knows where he is, so what has it got do with you?’ Belinda was trying to raise his spirits.

They left their half-eaten breakfasts on the table, and wandered around the departure lounge for a while, killing time. Ben tried to calm himself, knowing that in reality, he was over-reacting. Like most other people, Ben and Belinda eventually found themselves in the duty-free shop, and Belinda went to check out the silk scarves while Ben wandered into the perfume section. After a couple of minutes of browsing he was drawn to a brand he had neither seen, nor heard of before. He sniffed the sample bottle. He couldn’t believe his nose. He sniffed it again. He’d found it. Five years of searching and he’d found it! Belinda was still rummaging amongst the scarves as he quickly made his way to the till with the perfume.

‘This is one of the most expensive brands we sell. Someone will be happy. Would you like it gift wrapped, sir?’ asked the assistant.

‘Oh, okay then.’ He hadn’t thought of gift wrap. The assistant duly obliged and carefully wrapped the perfume in green and gold paper. Ben put the package deep inside his small carry-on bag so that Belinda wouldn’t see it.

A few minutes later Ben and Belinda were standing in yet another queue – this time at gate twenty-six, boarding passes in hand. Ben looked through the large plate glass windows onto the acres of concrete below. It was a beautiful, sunny, Sunday morning, and the sky was gradually turning from orange to blue. Below him he could see the aeroplane on which he was going to spend the next three hours or so, and a dark-haired man in a white shirt wearing a head-set sitting in the left-hand seat of the cockpit, shuffling papers as he went about his business. On the ground, Ben could see another man wearing a smart uniform and peaked cap, walking around underneath the aircraft. He seemed to be looking at the wheels, and he patted one of the huge tyres as he walked past it. As he emerged from under the left wing, he put his hand to his mouth as he tried to stifle a cough. From his right-hand pocket he drew a white handkerchief and coughed again several times. Ben hoped he was okay. As the queue edged slowly forward it crossed Ben’s mind that this really was his last chance to turn and go.

‘Good morning madam, nice to see you. Can I see your boarding pass please?’ the cheerful young man at the boarding point asked Belinda. His SunEurope badge gave his name as Paul.

Ben was next. ‘Good morning sir, is that your boarding pass?’

Ben waved the card in front of Paul. ‘Thank you. You’ve chosen a great day to fly, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the trip. Please follow the directions of my colleagues,’ Paul said, as he directed Ben and Belinda towards the gate.

‘Thank you. It must be nice to be as happy as you are at this time in the morning.’

‘When you work for SunEurope you can’t help but be cheerful. It’s a great place to be any time of day,’ replied the young man. That at least improved Ben’s mood a little.

Boarding passes checked, Ben and Belinda followed the line of fellow passengers down the tunnel of the air-bridge and onto the plane. They were greeted at the front entrance of the aircraft by a flight attendant, a woman smartly dressed in a white blouse with red piping, a grey skirt and red shiny shoes. Her hair was tied back in a short pony tail by a red and grey band. Ben guessed she was about thirty years old.

‘Good morning and welcome,’ she smiled as she re-checked their boarding passes. She looked at Ben for more than the usual couple of seconds, thinking she’d seen him somewhere before. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Row four, seats E and F are just there on your left.’ Turning to the next passengers, she greeted them in the same way, but then she cast another glance back towards Ben as he turned and followed Belinda to row four.

‘This is good,’ said Belinda as they reached their seats. ‘Only four rows from the front and not far from the exit.’

‘And the toilets,’ thought Ben.

The aircraft had a central aisle with three seats on either side of it. As Ben looked, the rows of seats appeared to stretch endlessly towards a vanishing point at the rear of the plane.

‘Where do you want to sit, in the middle or next to the window?’ Belinda asked Ben, as she placed the violin case and a small bag in the overhead storage locker. There was no way that the violin was going with the main baggage in the aircraft’s cargo hold, even though it wasn’t her most valuable one.

‘If you don’t mind I’d rather sit next to the window. Maybe I’ll be able to see where we are. But that means you’ll have someone you don’t know sat on your left.’

‘I’m not bothered about that,’ said Belinda.’ Just sit down and strap in. And yes, on a clear day like this we should be able to pick out some sights on the way. Be cool!’

As it happened, although the plane was by now almost full, row four, seat D, the one to Belinda’s left, was still not occupied at that moment. She hoped it would remain that way and that she could spread out during the journey.

‘Do you want to put your bag on this seat next to me?’ Belinda asked. ‘But you’ll need to move it if someone has it booked.’

‘No thanks, it’s okay. ‘I’ll put it on the floor in front of me.’ There were items in his bag that he wanted to keep close to him.

Ben watched as the last passengers boarded. A young couple with a small child settled themselves into the seats in row three immediately in front of them. The little boy appeared to be about six years old and was obviously excited to be on an aeroplane, talking loudly and refusing to sit still. Ben hoped the boy’s parents would be able to control him during the journey.

It took a few minutes for everyone to find, and settle into their seats, the cabin crew systematically helping people to sort things out, and progressively closing the overhead storage lockers ready for take-off. Ben looked forwards to see a young man in grey trousers and white shirt with a red and grey striped tie, closing and securing the door through which they had entered the aircraft. ‘This really is it,’ he said silently to himself.

The flight attendant with the red and grey hair-band who had welcomed them aboard, was directing the other cabin crew members. She seemed to be in charge, and as she came past Belinda and Ben in row four, she paused to make sure the overhead locker was closed properly. In reality she already knew that it was closed; she had watched as one of her colleagues checked it a few seconds earlier, but she was curious about the couple in row four, seats E and F.

As she re-checked the locker, she took another lingering look at Ben. He looked up and she smiled back at him. ‘You lucky people - going on holiday,’ she said. ‘Have you flown with us before?’

Belinda was the first to reply. ‘No, it’s our first time,’ she said. ‘I like these leather seats. It feels like we’re in first class - everything is so clean and shiny.’

‘I’m happy that you’re happy,’ said the flight attendant. ‘This aircraft is almost brand new – it’s about three weeks old, and one of the first Boeing 757’s to join our fleet. With its two Rolls Royce engines, it’s a really powerful bird. We give all our aircraft a name that’s linked to its registration number. This one is G-SAND, so we’ve named it Beach Party. We have one standard throughout, and yes, we like to provide a first-class service. By the way, if you don’t mind me saying so, those are lovely rings you have,’ she said as she looked at the third finger of Belinda’s left hand. This was customer service in full flow.

‘Thank you,’ they’re very special to me.’

Up to this point, Ben had avoided speaking.

‘And sir, is everything okay for you? I see you’ve buckled in already. That’s good.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ben feeling a little bit embarrassed.

Belinda thought she’d take this opportunity to help settle Ben’s nerves.

‘Ben isn’t keen on flying. He likes to be in control of everything. The sooner we get there the better.’

‘Oh, you’re not the only one, Ben,’ said the flight attendant looking directly at him. ‘Do you mind me using your first name?’ She continued without waiting for his reply. ‘When you’re flying you’re not in control. Personally, I don’t like being a passenger in a car. It’s the same feeling. A lot of people feel anxious when they’re not in control, but there really is nothing to worry about.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ben. ‘It’s partly that, but I hate not knowing where I am. In a car, or on a bus or a train, it’s different. In a ‘plane you just don’t know. That’s what gets to me.’

‘Oh, okay. How about if we could fix that for you?’

There was a pause. ‘I don’t know.’ Ben said as he looked away through the window.

‘I’ll see what we can do. The weather forecast en-route is good. Maybe we can help.’

Suddenly, there was the sound of a soft two-tone chime from the P.A. system – a call for attention. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, and turning, she made her way towards the front of the aircraft. She picked up a telephone that was attached to the wall between the cockpit and the cabin, and spoke quietly into the receiver.

The aircraft cabin began to quieten as everyone prepared for the flight, and music was playing through the public address system. The little boy seated in row three in front of Ben, was getting louder and more excited.

Ben’s pulse was starting to race. There was no way back, but only another two and a half hours, maybe three to go, if everything went to schedule. It wasn’t a long time he told himself. He checked his watch. In another three minutes they should be on their way. As he looked over his right shoulder through the window, he could see most of the aircraft’s right wing. From this angle it seemed to go on for ever and a huge engine hung silently beneath it. In the distance there was an assortment of vehicles and machines, and people going about their jobs.

‘This happens every day, seven days a week,’ Ben told himself. ‘What is there to worry about?’ But his pulse was getting faster and he could feel his heart in his chest. As he gazed at the scene through the window, he didn’t notice that the door at the front of the aircraft had been re-opened to allow a crew member to leave the flight-deck. Belinda looked sideways at Ben and took hold of his hand. He didn’t look at her – he was staring at the huge engine. On the side of the engine cowling he could see the large painted letters of a logo – RR.

‘Rolls Royce equals precision engineering,’ he thought. That gave him some comfort. But instantly, and not for the first time that morning, those two letters brought back vivid, emotion- charged memories he had never been able to let go of. They were the initials of someone he would never forget. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift back in time.

2

Thursday 9th December, 1981

Ben Jackson’s upbringing had always been in a happy and stable environment. In 1981 his father, who was an industrial chemist with a major international company, had been offered promotion to the firm’s head office in Karlsruhe, a small city on the Rhine in western Germany. After some late-night discussions between Ben’s parents – some of them borderline arguments - Ben’s mother held fast to her decision that she didn’t want to move the family abroad.

‘It’s not right for us,’ Helen Jackson had told her husband James. ‘It’s the wrong time, especially for the girls. After all, they’re settled in school and don’t want to lose their friends,’ she argued. ‘And then there’s Ben. He’s doing really well and it could put him back at least a year, or even two.’

James Jackson had seen the logic in Helen’s words - he only wanted the best for his family. In the end it was agreed that he would go to Germany alone, on the basis that the move would only be for an initial twelve-month period. And after all, the extra money would be very useful. Only James knew precisely how useful it would be.

During the first four months James made regular and expensive trips home to see and care for the family. He sent money - plenty of it - every month. All was well.

One Saturday in November 1981, Ben’s mother was expecting her husband to arrive home around 4pm for a week’s holiday. Just after noon that day, she received a telephone call from the HR Director of the company. There had been a car accident near the airport in Germany. The impact had been sufficient enough for James not to be coming home that day. When James did come home a few days later, it would be for his funeral.

*

Sleet-laden raindrops were running down the office window of Starkie & Co., Solicitors. ‘What will you do now, Helen?’ asked the immaculately dressed man behind the desk. He had just read James’s will to Ben’s mother. As Helen already knew, she was the sole beneficiary, but it was not enough to keep her in the lifestyle she and her family had recently enjoyed. Unknown to Helen, her husband James had gambled heavily on the stock market – and he’d lost. The family was not destitute, but things would have to change. Carl Starkie was a long-standing family friend. In fact, Helen had known him almost as long as she’d known her husband James. Carl had been best man at her and James’ wedding all those years ago and she trusted him.

‘The only thing I can do,’ Helen replied. ‘The house will have to go and I’ll have to find a job. But I can’t see Ben being able to stay on for his ‘A’ levels. He’ll need to bring some money in as well.’

‘You’ll get good money for your property. I’m sure you’ll be okay. Just live in a different neighbourhood. And after all you’re only forty-two and still qualified. You should find a job quite easily,’ said Carl, trying to be positive.

‘I hope so,’ replied Helen, but secretly she had her doubts.

‘It would be a shame if Ben missed out though,’ Carl continued. ‘He’s a very capable young man. I have friends in the business world, and I could put the word out about your situation. One of them may be able to offer him a part time position somewhere while he completes his sixth form education. He’s well ahead of his years and could go on to university, possibly Oxford or Cambridge. What do you think?’

‘Thanks Carl. That would be very kind of you. I know James was hoping for great things for Ben. He would be very grateful if he knew how much you’d helped us.’

‘Not a problem, it’s the least I can do. Remember, James and I grew up together. I’ll speak to a few people.’

*

The family home was sold quickly – a certain solicitor made sure of that - but Helen would never know about his input. The new house was smaller but there were some benefits – less to clean, a smaller garden. Sammy, the white feline member of the family, had reluctantly accepted it as his new home, despite having to be returned from the previous address by its new owners. Helen easily got her old position back and restarted her nursing career on night shifts at the local hospital.

As the months passed, Ben had fitted in very quickly to his part time job at the local newspaper. He’d never expected to be covering weekend sports events but he loved it. And the newspaper soon realised they had a budding journalist on their hands. The money was good for a young man of his age and experience - he was paid more than the usual rate for each report published. A certain solicitor had made sure of that as well.

Ben supported his mother and looked after his younger sisters, who in turn looked after Sammy. Ben quickly began to outstrip his friends in terms of maturity and responsibility. He took on the role of his father, and got his head down with his A level studies.

Friday 15th July, 1983

The hot July sun was blazing through the large windows of the sixth form college common room.

It was the last day of the last term that the arts students of form 6A2 and the scientists who made up 6S2 would spend at Calbury Grammar School Sixth Form College. The A level exams had been taken a few weeks earlier, the results would be known in a few weeks’ time.

Technically, they had already left college after sitting their final exams, but it was traditional for them to assemble for one last time on the morning of the last day of the official school year. A last day farewell so to speak.

Some of them would keep in touch with each other, but for most, apart from chance meetings and maybe when they returned in August to get their results, they would never see each other again. It was a time for saying goodbye to friends…and maybe a party or two.

It was also time for the formal thank you to be made to each of the teachers who had brought them this far, the vast majority of whom had worked hard to support them. For the young men of 6S2 it was their Physics Teacher who was the most popular and the one whose hand all but one of them wanted to shake as a last goodbye.

Ben Jackson, sat in the rear left corner of the common room. With his hands behind his head, he straddled his grey plastic chair which he had balanced precariously on its two rear legs and wedged at an angle against the wall. He had placed his left foot against the leg of the table in front of him to provide some fragile stability.

For anyone who didn’t know him, his appearance may have seemed arrogant. In reality it was just Ben being himself…in control. The fifty-one other young men in the room were getting noisier by the minute. Ben just sat and watched them in silence.

‘Day dreaming again Ben?’ one of them joked.

‘Mind your own business,’ Ben replied with a thin smile on his face. It was a veneer covering his real feelings.

He turned away and looked through the window towards the playing fields. Despite his usual self-assured appearance, inside he was churning. Today was the day he least wanted to arrive, and not because he didn’t want to leave the sixth form and officially join the adult world. He was more than ready for that. Not because, despite promises to keep in touch, friendships would end and he would lose contact with many of his mates. He knew that and realised it was time he moved on.

But today his thoughts were strangling his mind. He had hardly slept the previous night and had been awake since 2am. Something else was going to end that day, and try as he may he could not think of anything he could do about it. He tried to tell himself that in reality, it would be the end of something that had never really started. He told himself it was only in his imagination and he’d let his feelings run riot. But on that hot summer morning it seemed like the end of something real.

Ben stared through the window, the words of Bus Stop, an old song by The Hollies, were on his lips. He mumbled the words of the song to himself. No-one else could hear them. It was a song about two people who fell in love at a bus stop in Didsbury, Manchester, whilst sharing an umbrella.

*

For the last year Ben had acted as Student Representative. This was a role invented by the Headmaster a few years previously, and it had been a great idea. Ben was a good leader and all members of the sixth form college liked him. He was also a good ambassador for the school, and when there were important visitors such as the Mayor or the local MP to entertain, his athletic good looks and smiling, cheerful disposition never failed to charm them. He looked and acted much older than his years, and he had matured much faster than his peers. In himself he felt like an adult among teenagers. And in a way he was, partly due to the fact that he had needed to mature quickly.

Calbury Grammar was divided into the lower school and the sixth form college for A level students. The site was split into six, two storey blocks and a sports complex interconnected by flat roofed corridors which leaked every time it rained. Four of the blocks surrounded a large rectangular lawn with pathways both across and around it, an area known as The Quad. Every room in the school had large sliding windows which were now restricted to a six-inch opening, a modification made, supposedly, to prevent a repeat of the Madeley-Newton incident during the Christmas break seven months previously. Some people, in particular Duncan Turkey Paterson, a small, tough, Glaswegian ex-amateur boxer and Deputy Head of Calbury, believed that Maddy and Newty, as they were nicknamed by