CHERUB: Where Did We Go Wrong
Oxford Street was heaving with Christmas shoppers, most of whom seemed determined to get in James' way. He battled to get past a group of middle-aged women gossiping in the middle of the street, stepping into the road to get around a giant Selfridges bag and getting a horn blast from a black cab for his trouble. Grumbling under his breath, he headed into an upmarket men's clothing shop, desperate to get his shopping finished before lunchtime. He was supposed to be meeting with Bruce at Victoria Station so they could visit Bethany, who was still in her university flat in South London. James wanted nothing less than to visit Bethany, but it was the only way he could get a free ride to the capital from campus.
"Can I help you, sir?" a shop assistant asked, taking in James' harassed appearance. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"
"Just browsing, thanks," James replied, glancing around at the racks of ties and cufflinks and wondering where the reasonably-priced stuff was. He was looking for something for Kyle and he was sure that some kind of fancy tie would probably do.
"Wait, can you point to me your most outrageous tie?" James asked the assistant cheekily, tapping him on the back. "I need to get it for a friend."
The assistant didn't seem very pleased to be asked for anything outrageous. "We do have a small novelty section. Maybe that will suit you, sir."
Ignoring the sniffy attitude, James glanced through the novelty ties. Some of them were revolting; Rudolphs with light-up noses and such, the kind of thing Kyle would hate, but there were a couple of jazzy polka-dot numbers that he could see his mate wearing with some kind of bright yellow suit. Resigning himself, he picked up two of the best and took them to the counter, forking over more than twenty quid in total.
"He'd better bloody appreciate them," James muttered to himself as he braced himself to leave the shop and join the crowds again.
Next stop was some kind of women's clothing shop. It had been years since James had bothered getting anything proper for his sister; she just returned everything that she didn't choose herself. It was going to be a gift card, he decided, even though it was a cop-out. The nearest decent-looking shop was on the other side of the road, so he struggled across the pedestrian crossing and tried unsuccessfully to skirt round a group of pre-teen girls and mothers.
The interior of the shop was at least warm, even if it seemed to be even busier than the street. James took a few moments to take off his gloves and blow on his fingers to get some feeling back before proceeding, trying desperately to see over everyone's heads and find where the counter was. Predictably, it was right at the back, so he pushed through crowds and weaved through the racks of sparkly dresses until he arrived in a long queue. The only consolation was that it was the last present he had to buy.
"Wait... James?" a voice said from behind him. He didn't turn; it was probably somebody talking to their son and telling him not to chew the novelty mugs.
"James Holmes?" This time the voice tapped him on the back, and he turned to see who it was that had mistaken him.
Hannah Clarke stood before him, a blast from the past that nearly knocked him off his feet. Her blonde hair fell in waves around her face, which had matured into the look of a young woman rather than the fourteen-year-old James remembered. She'd ditched the old-school look she'd favoured when he'd known her for a more modern style, although the leather jacket suggested she'd retained her taste for the unusual.
"Hannah Clarke?" he replied, panic setting in. He hadn't seen her for seven years and he was struggling to remember the back story he'd used on the mission where he'd met her; his surname had been Holmes, but he couldn't remember much else.
"Oh my God! I can't believe it's you!" she gasped, pulling him into an awkward hug that was limited by carrier bags. "It's been, what..."
"Seven years, I think," he replied, slipping into his usual smile and manner, which was easy when confronted by a pretty girl. "How've you been?"
She smiled, the same smile James remembered. "Oh, I've been okay really. You? I never found out what happened after you and um... what was your brother's name?"
"Dave," James said quickly, relieved that he could rememeber it.
"Yeah, that was it. After you and Dave left, it was all a bit hectic what with the police everywhere and all of that stuff about Will." There was a momentary look of sadness on her face, but it passed.
"I know," James agreed, playing for time. "We did leave in a bit of a hurry."
"I tried ringing you for a while, but I could never get through."
"Um, I left my phone behind when we left, by accident. Never managed to get it back," James lied, working overtime to try and remember the details. He noticed that the queue was moving and he followed, walking at an awkward angle so he didn't have to turn his back on Hannah.
"Oh. That's a shame. I missed you," she said, flashing him the smile again. "Only for a little bit though."
James felt uncomfortable discussing it. He'd had a great summer with Hannah and he felt bad for leaving without sorting out their last argument. "So, what've you been up to all these years?"
"Oh, nothing much. I finished school and I just graduated from University College last autumn. Been hanging around looking for a job since then," she explained, shrugging.
The time had come for James to go up to the till, so he gave her an apologetic smile and walked up to the free one, just before remembering that he had forgotten to pick up the gift card.
"Um, I was after a gift card..." he said sheepishly, looking around for the stand.
The cashier gave him an unimpressed look as he scrambled backwards to grab one from the display, feeling stupid as Hannah giggled.
"How much?" the cashier asked as he slapped it down on the counter.
"Better make it thirty."
He hung around and waited for Hannah to finish buying her clothes to be polite, trying to think of excuses to get away. Eventually she'd want to know what he'd been doing for the past seven years, and he was sure he'd slip up and make a mistake.
"Hey, do you want to come back to my flat for a cup of tea? I'd say we could go somewhere around here, but I expect it'll be heaving," Hannah suggested as she returned, another bag in hand. "I can probably do lunch too, if you like."
Fortunately for James, a plan began to form. "Yeah, that sounds good. Catch up on old times and all that. I just have to ring my mate and let him know."
He found Bruce in his phone contacts and rang the number, standing a little way away from Hannah so she couldn't listen in.
"Yo James, what's up?" Bruce asked, sounding happy.
"Er, listen, I can't make the whole thing with Bethany."
"Eh?"
"I've met an old flame and we're going to her place for lunch."
"You jammy bastard," Bruce complained. "Where are we gonna meet after?"
"Text me Bethany's address and I'll find it when I'm done," James said. "Cheers."
He hung up, beaming at his own brilliance. No afternoon with Bethany and a free lunch into the bargain.
"Do you need to get anything else?" Hannah asked as they headed for the exit. "I'm all done with my Christmas shopping now."
"Nah, this was my last place. Wanted to leave the women's clothing until last," he grinned. "Didn't think I'd see you in a place like that. What happened to those charity shops you loved?"
Hannah laughed. "I still go to them, but my friends aren't so enlightened. I've got to get their presents somewhere."
James managed to fend her off by asking questions about university until they were on the tube, a vaguely familiar trip up the northern line.
"Where's your flat?" he asked, recalling that University College wasn't in north London.
"It's back in Palm Hill, I should've said. Just temporary until I find somewhere," Hannah explained. "Too expensive to stay in central London."
"Been a while since I was back in Palm Hill," James replied, shaking his head. "I'll bet the place has changed."
"Well, Tarasov Motors is gone," Hannah grinned. "Otherwise it's pretty much the same. So, are you seeing anyone at the moment?"
She stunned him with the question, but it only took a moment for him to regain his composure. "Oh, uh, no, not at the moment. Keeping my options open."
"Surprises me," Hannah said, her wicked grin returning. "I'd have thought that someone with your looks would be fighting them off."
James just smiled. "What about you?"
She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Did you not see the ring?"
"Oh, congratulations!" James said, taking a moment to admire the ring. It meant nothing to him, just some kind of white gem, but it was the done thing. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"He's called Daniel and he's currently doing his master's in Manchester," Hannah replied. "We're getting hitched next summer, but the date's not set."
"I'd better get an invite," James grinned. "Be nice to see a few old faces."
"I've lost touch with Liza and Max, actually. They moved away when Leon got out of prison, and I haven't heard from them since," Hannah said sadly. "I think they felt bad about what happened, even though it was really that policeman to blame."
"Yeah, I suppose," James replied, bits of the mission coming back to him slowly.
Her flat wasn't too far from the tube station, but the walk took them past the old Tarasov Motors site. It was now an upmarket beer garden attached to the revamped pub, which looked as if it catered to a higher class of patron now.
"I worked there for a bit," Hannah said, pointing to the pub. "Cleaned itself up once Leon got put away."
The flat was in a different block to the one James had lived in during the mission, but it had the same layout and it brought back memories.
"Does your flat have a skylight?" he asked, grinning cheekily at Hannah.
She just laughed. "Nope, but we can get onto the roof from the fire escape. We can have lunch up there, for old times' sake?"
Hannah had always been a reasonable cook and James found himself carrying a plate of bacon, eggs and a stack of bread up towards the fire escape, a mug of tea in the other hand. Hannah went ahead and opened it and even though he climbed carefully, he still slopped a quarter of the mug onto his shoes.
"Good view, huh?" Hannah reminded him as they settled on the hard asphalt. "Seems a long time since we were last here."
"Yeah, it is," James said, not sure whether to take in the beautiful girl sitting next to him or the excellent fry-up in front of him.
"So, where've you been for the past seven years? I've said enough about me," Hannah asked, sipping at her tea. "Up to no good, from what I remember of you."
James grinned. "Maybe. Um, where to start..." He tried to patch together a backstory of how James Holmes might have turned out, but his CHERUB training told him that drawing on real experiences was easier than making stuff up. He stalled for time while chewing a huge mouthful of bacon butty.
"Well, Dave and me moved down to south London, Bromley way. I kept dodging the care homes by the skin of my teeth, but then Dave went down for some dodgy car stuff and I ended up in one of those godawful halfway houses," he said, looking over at her.
"The ones where everyone is pregnant?" Hannah giggled. "Sounds pretty tough."
"I suppose. I got mixed up in that um... Street Action Group, you remember? We trashed London that one Christmas."
"I remember. Pretty hardcore, I didn't peg you as an anarchist," she replied, brushing a hand through her hair. "You were more of a lazy chav when I knew you."
James blushed. "Well, yeah, everyone was like that back then."
"I'm only teasing," she said, smiling at him before taking a big bite out of her butty.
"Well, I got nicked and did a year in a young offender's, but I got on with some schoolwork in there and ended up getting into Stanford to do maths. It was about time someone recognised my genius," James grinned. "California was much better than prison, let me tell you."
"Wow, exciting life," Hannah said, staring out across central London. "Compared to mine, at least. Why'd you come back?"
"Had to. I was seeing a girl, but then that fell apart and now I just work as a fitness instructor," he replied through another mouthful. "Hoping something better will come along."
"I thought you might do something with fitness. You look really good," she smiled. "Where are you living now, then?"
"Midlands way, just outside Birmingham," James lied. "Just came down here for the day to do some shopping."
Hannah gave him a fond look. "Well, sounds like you turned out okay then, Holmes. I would've bet on some dodgy scheme landing you a lengthy stretch."
"It happened to Dave, and after that I tried to stay away from it. Except for the anarchy stuff, but that was more just random destruction."
"Do you see Dave much? He must be pretty lonely on the inside with you being away."
James realised that this was a hole in his story, and desperately tried to come up with something. "Oh, he got a release for behaviour and now he lives in Scotland somewhere. I see him occasionally but it's a long way."
"I bet he's a sight for sore eyes. He was always pretty handsome, and that was when he was a teenager," Hannah said wistfully, catching a glance from James and laughing.
"Anyway, how are your folks?" James asked, remembering that Hannah didn't get on with them and hoping it would deflect the conversation away from him.
"They're okay. My dad's as annoying as ever, but living away from them has made things better," she said, shrugging. "They were really nice about my engagement, which was a surprise."
"I seem to remember him wanting you to have nothing to do with boys," James said, licking his fingers and mopping the plate with the remains of the bread.
"Yeah. I always wanted to bring home a tattooed bodybuilder twice my age, just to see him explode," she laughed. "He wasn't entirely taken with you, but you were polite, at least."
James grinned. "Probably for the best that he never found out what we got up to in your bedroom, then."
Hannah rolled her eyes. "We only snogged, it's hardly a crime. Well, maybe it was in my dad's eyes."
Thinking back made James feel old. "Bit warmer back then, wasn't it?"
Hannah nodded. "You got that right. Want to go back inside?"
It was nice seeing Hannah, but James' sensible side got the better of him and he realised that the longer he stayed, the longer he'd have to make a mistake with his back story, so once he'd given her a hand with the washing up, he made his excuses.
"Someone's waiting for me," he said, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. "It's been great catching up, though."
"I'll look you up on Facebook," Hannah said, looking a touch sad.
"Yeah, sounds good," James replied, pulling on his gloves.
Hannah saw him to the door and they paused on the walkway outside the flat, both wondering what to say.
"Take care," Hannah eventually said, giving him a slight wave.
"You too," James said, turning up his collar to keep the wind off. "Good luck with the wedding and everything."
"Thanks," she replied, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I won't keep you, it's bloody freezing."
James grinned and headed for the stairs before turning back for a second. "Hannah?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry about the way it ended. I wanted to apologise properly, but I didn't get the chance."
Hannah laughed. "Apology accepted. Keep in touch, yeah?"
"Yeah," James said, waving one last time before starting down the stairs. He felt bad for lying to Hannah and it was unlikely that he'd ever see her again, which was a shame because they had a lot in common and even after seven years, they still got on really well. Not for the first time, he wished they'd met under different circumstances. As he headed for the tube station, pulling his phone out of his pocket to find out Bethany's address, he took a last look at the blocks of flats he'd spent a summer holiday in and wondered how he might have turned out if that mission had been his real life.