Wooo! Handed my dissertation in and my last essay of term, and now I'm home for Christmas and to update!
Richard continues his search, Hermia arranges her birthday party, and Gabriel goes back to work. Also, Tybalt is rude and disrespectful to Anne, Hermia and about Angelo. I apologize if anyone finds it triggering.
Once they had the next set of tapes, Richard and his friends barricaded themselves in his apartment once again.
"This could possibly be the last leg of our search," said Richard, as they set up their laptops, "I know we've been losing heart, and I know it's been hard, but don't give up now. And don't let me give up now either. I promised to bring Anne home, and I will. I want to find her, and find my baby. This isn't like when I was with…when I was younger, before I learnt…I am going to do right by her, and I mean it!"
Francis nodded solemnly, "We know, Dickon, and we've promised to help. Right, we'll all take tapes from the different carriages on the train, and see where she sat."
"Also, remember this train divides en route," said Catesby, "So depending which carriage she sat in, could be a clue to where she's gone."
Onscreen, Anne climbed onto the train, and sat down. It was easier to keep a track of her here, as the train was smaller than the station, and there were less people obscuring her. They found that she sat in the third carriage from the front.
"That half goes to Portsmouth Harbour," stated Catesby, "So, she could be heading there."
"The whole service is two hours long. Are we just going to watch her sit there for two hours?" asked Ratcliffe.
"Whatever it takes," said Richard.
Fortunately, or maybe even unfortunately, they didn't have to sit watching her for two hours. At Gatwick, Anne stood up, collected her case, and climbed off the train.
"Well, that's confirmed it. She's left the country," said Richard.
"Right, let's rule out possible places she might have gone. How about Paris, Caen, Rouens? She spent time there during her exile with Warwick. Maybe she might have some friends there," suggested Francis.
"She didn't make any friends during her exile. Edouard treated her like dirt and didn't let her talk to anyone," said Richard, "The only place she made friends was in Verona."
"Shall we see if she boarded a flight there?" asked Ratcliffe.
"I rung Hermia on Skype and asked if she'd seen her the very same week she went missing," said Richard, "Hermia said no, she hadn't."
"I don't want to sound like I'm being mean here, but do you think Hermia might have been lying?" asked Francis.
"Lying?"
"Yes," nodded Francis, "Richard, sometimes you believe everyone is as honest as you. But don't you think there's a possibility that Hermia might have been lying?"
"Why would she lie?" asked Richard, "She usually seems to be quite straightforward and not particularly devious."
"Straightforward, maybe. But devious when necessary. I get the impression that she's the sort of person who does her own thing, goes her own way, maybe she thought it was best you didn't get involved or something," Francis sighed, "I know it's hard to take in, but it's a possibility. We shouldn't rule Verona out as a possible destination for Anne yet."
"Or, maybe she did go to Verona, but not to Hermia?" asked Catesby, "Maybe she went to a different friend?"
"Or," said Ratcliffe, "Maybe at that point Anne hadn't arrived yet? You say you contacted Hermia in the same week, but maybe Anne hadn't got there at that time, and she arrived after your Skype call?"
"That could be true," said Catesby, "How long are flights to Verona anyway?"
"About two hours," said Francis.
"Maybe she did lots of plane changes to confuse people," Ratcliffe suggested, "Look, she went to ATMs in two different directions to confuse us, got on a different underground station to confuse us still, walked around London Victoria several times to confuse us again, and then took a train that would divide en route instead of a direct shuttle service. Maybe she took planes to lots of different countries to make sure searching for her was as difficult as possible. We need to go to Gatwick Airport, and ask them for their security tapes. We also need to ask them to check their passenger records. Airport security is dead tight, it's unlikely Anne could have left the country with a fake passport, and it's unlikely she'd know where to get one."
"You're right. Let's get in my car. Next stop, Gatwick Airport!" announced Richard.
They pulled their shoes on, and caught the elevator down to the ground floor. Richard climbed into the driver's seat, and they set off through the London traffic to Gatwick Airport.
Benvolio's car pulled up outside of Capulet Manor.
"I'm glad to be home," said Hermia, looking around. Capulet Manor was exactly the same as when they had left. There were abandoned traffic cones scattered across the lawn, an up-ended shopping trolley, a few broken bottles, and a random drunk guy sleeping on the pathway.
"I don't think I've ever been happier to see your place in my life," admitted Benvolio.
"Really?" asked Hermia, "I thought you hate the noise and the mess."
"Sometimes," said Benvolio, "But here, when people are mad at each other, it's all out in the open. There's no simmering arguments, no tension, just pure yelling and arguing. And it's easy to know when someone's about to blow, so you can leave in time."
"I'd never thought of it like that before," admitted Hermia, "Ready to face the fire?"
Benvolio nodded. Hermia opened the door, "Ciao, family!"
"Hermy-wa!" shrieked Mercutio, "Bennykins! You're back!"
"Unca Merk-usho!" Eliseo crowed.
"Here we are," said Benvolio.
"I want a cuddle!" Mercutio beamed.
"No, no, Mercutio, get off!" cried Benvolio, as Mercutio bounded over, grabbed his arm and licked it, "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Giving you a special kiss!"
"Weirdo," sighed Benvolio, "How was England? How's your father?"
"Oh, he's good!" chirped Mercutio, "I've persuaded Ned to give back some of dad's old confiscated titles, and he's let him out the Tower too!"
"That's great!" Benvolio smiled, "How did you do that?"
"By threatening to do Caligula's Dance!"
Benvolio groaned, "I was hoping you'd say you'd been working on your diplomatic skills…"
"Herms!" greeted Juliet, stepping through the living room to give her half-sister a hug, "How was it? We've all missed you!"
"Did you get me and Anne a present?" asked Allegra.
"Yeah, I got you all presents!" announced Hermia, "Apart from Tybalt, of course."
"Bitch," Tybalt put his middle finger up at her, "Anyway, when's your English friend moving out of my room?"
"Her name is Anne," corrected Hermia, "And she is staying as long as she likes."
Hermia handed Eliseo to Juliet, who hugged his aunt, and moved around to the sofa, to sit next to Anne, who was sitting with her legs apart so that her belly could comfortably rest between.
"How was Rome?" asked Hermia.
"It went better than expect," said Juliet.
"We got the dispensation," said Anne.
"Fantastic!" grinned Hermia, "Now what?"
"I worry that it too easy," said Juliet.
"How was the wedding?" asked Anne.
"Disaster," said Hermia, "He leave her at altar. Terrible"
"He left her at the altar? Gosh…" Anne shook her head.
"Yes, it horrid. He say she cheat and he have picture but no way prove it her. So she come Verona with us for new start," explained Hermia, "Hero not here, she live in Beatrix flat."
Anne's eyes went wide with surprise.
"So what else go on when I away? I want hear all!" Hermia announced.
"Well, I started my postgraduate job," said Rosaline proudly.
"No one cares!" replied Hermia, "Has Tibby got one yet? Has anyone been stupid enough to hire him?"
"Tybalt seems to have taken up sleeping in, eating takeaway food, and playing on the x-box professionally," Allegra gloated.
"Wow, Tibby, way to aim high."
"Shut up, slag. I'm job hunting, and I've got an interview next week!" retorted Tybalt, "And I want to know when I get my room back!"
"When Anne doesn't need it anymore!" Hermia shouted.
"And when will that be?" demanded Tybalt, "She's been here months. She ought to go back to her own country and sort out her own shit instead of sponging off us!"
"Shut up, Twatbalt! She's staying here!" Hermia yelled back.
"She is an English girl! In England, they give you benefits and a flat for getting knocked up! So she should go back there!"
"I said, Anne can stay here as long as she needs too! And that is final!" Hermia roared, "It's not your room, anyway. If you want your own room, go and live round your father-in-law's place."
"He's a homo and I don't want him to perv on me!"
"Stop calling my dad a homo!" snapped Rosaline, "He wouldn't perv on you, and if it bugs you so much that he might look at you, don't walk round naked!"
"Why should I have to go out of my way to cover up and be uncomfortable because some man can't keep his eyes to himself?" demanded Tybalt.
"All of you, pack it in!" shouted Lord Capulet, "Tybalt, go upstairs to your room. I want to talk to Hermia without you causing anymore arguments!"
"I haven't got a room, because that English girl is in there!" Tybalt cursed.
"Go to Rosaline's room then!"
Tybalt stormed upstairs. Mercutio snickered.
"So, I was thinking," said Hermia, "It's my birthday on the 16th. We ought to start planning the party because it's less than a few days away."
"No parties!" commanded Lord Capulet.
Hermia just ignored him, "And then it's Benny and Beatrix's birthday on the 20th, so I was thinking since we're all hitting the big twenty, we should have a massive combined party. It will be like a big welcome to Verona for Hero, who's never been here properly and partied with us."
"Ah, I don't actually think Hero would like to party with us," said Benvolio quickly, but he was ignored.
"Great idea!" beamed Allegra, "We haven't had any parties since you've been gone. It sucks!"
"Any cousin of Benvolio is my best friend!" Mercutio announced delightedly, "She'll love it!"
"Right, I'm thinking house party as Anne is pregnant and not up for the club. And if it's a house party, we can have a fancy dress theme," said Hermia.
"Oh, so like something out of your favourite movie? Sounds good to me," said Benvolio.
"No, be more imaginative, Ben!" chided Hermia, "Mercutio, what do you think?"
"Bad taste! Bad taste!" Mercutio beamed.
"No! No more bad taste parties! They're offensive and not even remotely funny in the slightest!" protested Benvolio.
"Well, we better hurry up and pick a theme because I'm making the event on Facebook now," said Hermia, opening up her laptop on the coffee table, "Shall I just invite everyone on my friends list?"
"Hermy, you have over one thousand friends. They can't all come," said Juliet.
"Well, chances are not all of them are going to be able to make it," shrugged Hermia.
"How did you even get all those friends in the first place?" asked Lord Capulet.
"They're all her old fuck-buddies!" Tybalt shouted from upstairs.
"Shut up, Tybalt! You only wish you had a thousand fuck-buddies!" Hermia yelled back, typing up the details.
"I don't want them all crammed in my house! There's a limit of twenty guests!" Lord Capulet shouted.
"But dad," whined Hermia, "It won't be fun with only twenty people here! Let me invite all my friends."
"No!" Lord Capulet snapped, "And I didn't even say you could have a party!"
"You're mean," sulked Hermia.
"I'm not mean!" Lord Capulet retorted, "I'm sick of you all wrecking my Manor. This is our family's ancestral home, not a nightclub!"
"What's the point in having a massive ancestral home if you can't have fun in it?" asked Hermia, continuing to type up the details of the party, "Right, I've put theme to be decided tomorrow, and now…invite all!"
"So we can't view the flight manifest unless we have a court order," said Richard, as they sat back in his car, "What shall we do next?"
"We can get a court order, though, can't we?" asked Francis.
"We could, but I don't know how long it will take. Or how valid our case is. Although I filed a missing person's report with the police when she left, as Ned reminded me, since Anne is of age, it isn't illegal of her to leave without telling anyone. So there's no guarantee I can get it," Richard tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, "If the worst comes to the worst, I will simply get on a flight to anywhere that might have meaning to her, and ask around if anyone has seen her."
"Is there not anyway we could just buy these people off and make them tell us where Anne is?" sighed Ratcliffe.
"I wish!" Richard rolled his eyes, "Ned would have more luck at that."
"How about the security tapes?" asked Catesby, "Surely, if they've let us have the security tapes from the trains, they'll let us have the ones from the airport."
"Those will only confirm if Anne was here and boarded a flight, but not which."
"Not necessarily. We'll be able to find out which terminal she left from, and by the time she boarded, we can find out which flight it was and to where, like we did with the train times," said Francis.
"All right. We'll get the tapes. But if they yield nothing, then I'm going on my own from then on," said Richard.
"Don't be stupid!" scoffed Francis, "I'm with you all the way!"
"Me too!" said Catesby.
"And me too!" said Ratcliffe, "You're our best friend and we'll do anything to help you."
"We know you'd do the same for us," said Francis, "So let's get back to yours and watch these tapes."
Back at Richard's apartment, they got straight back to work, "So, we need to keep an eye out for when she arrived at the Departures terminal, and when she bought her ticket," said Richard, taking charge once again, "Start the tape ten minutes before her train arrived, that way we won't miss anything. Keep an eye out for what she was wearing, and how she paid."
They watched for about half an hour.
"Hey, look!" Francis pointed, "That short man with the red hair, that's Tychon Alanis! The leader of the Athenian mercenary company your brother hired!"
"Of course!" Richard exclaimed, "He left to Verona for a debriefing that very day! I remember warning him about Mercutio."
"Maybe we could contact him to ask if he's seen her," suggested Francis, "He was at court – he must have seen Anne. Maybe he'd recognise her."
"Where do you think he'd be now?" asked Catesby.
"Back in Athens, most likely. The debriefing finished months ago," said Richard, "Right, here's what we'll do now. One of us will track down Tychon's details, and try to contact him to see if he saw Anne at the airport. And if he was boarding a flight to Verona…perhaps he'll be able to confirm if she was on the flight or not!"
"All right, I'll get on that," said Catesby.
The others turned back to the laptops. Anne walked onto the screen. She looked around the Departures confused, before finding the reception desk. Richard watched amazed, as she handed over a fat wad of cash, and accepted a ticket in return. So that was where the money that she'd withdrawn from the ATMs had gone.
Anne walked out of the view of the cameras, to check in for her flight, and to pass through security. Richard changed tapes, to watch her emerge in the terminals.
"She's gone to the north terminal," said Richard, "Any success with Tychon?"
"All his addresses and stuff is in Greek," frowned Catesby, "I put it through Google translate but that's even more confusing. I think I need an interpreter."
"All right, you can leave that for now," said Richard, "We've seen Anne go to the north terminal. Can you look online to see which flights usually leave London Gatwick's north terminal?"
"Look, Tychon's there!" Francis pointed, "He's heading to the north terminals as well!"
They watched the screen for a few more minutes, and Tychon disappeared into the north lounge. Anne, on the other hand, continued walking and went and sat down at the terminal. She seemed vaguely happy, smiling to herself. Richard supposed she must have felt quite proud, travelling so far, buying a plane ticket and getting through security, all by herself.
They watched Anne wait for her flight, and two hours later, saw her get up to board her plane. A whole crowd of people, consisting mainly of young couples holding hands, soon filled the screen to board the flight. Then, out of the north lounge, emerged Tychon. There was no denying it was him, with his striking red hair and short stature. He followed the path Anne had walked, and boarded the flight to Verona.
"Verona," said Richard, "Hermia was lying. She's in Verona."
Gabriel was late for work. This was not good, especially not after his suspension. God, if he didn't pull his finger out, he'd be fired soon.
Part of Gabriel didn't find himself giving a shit. Interpreting was not what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Dancing was where his passion lay. He belonged on a stage, not stuffy conference rooms.
When he finally arrived, he parked the car at a wonky angle, and ran up the stairs to the doors, where his partner, Moreno, stood waiting with his arms crossed. He didn't look impressed.
Moreno Luce was five years older than Gabriel. He was taller, more mature, and dark-haired and olive-skinned where Gabriel was fair, short and immature. He spoke five languages – Italian, English, French, Spanish, and Greek. He worked for the same interpreting company as him, and was frequently paired with him whenever two interpreters were needed.
Apparently, he 'coped well' working with Gabriel.
"Yes, I know, I'm late," Gabriel snapped, "And no, I wasn't doing my hair before you ask."
"I wasn't going to," replied Moreno, "But the whole hearing has been delayed whilst we've had to wait for you to arrive."
"You could have interpreted, couldn't you?"
"No, because this is a multilingual case. There needs to be two of us to make sure the right information is relayed."
"Why, what are we interpreting today?"
"It's a custodial case."
Gabriel groaned. They were the worst.
"The mother is Spanish-Italian, and wants to take her son to Spain to live with her new partner. Her ex-partner is French and Italian, and he doesn't want her to take his son away, so he keeps shouting in French. There are people from the Spanish, French and Italian authorities here who have dealt with the case before to give witness statements, who only speak their native language, so we also need to interpret for them. That's why there had to be two of us," explained Moreno.
"I know, I know!" Gabriel retorted, "But you speak Spanish and French as well, I don't know why you couldn't have handled it by yourself. I've had a busy weekend."
"What were you doing?"
"Being a parent to my own kid," retorted Gabriel, "Let me guess, you were visiting crumbly old castles again, weren't you?"
"Maybe," shrugged Moreno.
The hearing took up most of the morning. Gabriel had to listen, and interpret, some of the most ridiculous accusations hurled at one another over their parental abilities. Afterwards, he bought his favourite European gossip magazine from the coffee shop, and tried to cheer himself up.
There were some paparazzi shots of the Duke of Gloucester and a couple of his friends walking through Gatwick airport, carrying suitcases. For someone who appeared to be going on holiday, Richard looked even more miserable than Gabriel did whenever he had to change Alexei's nappy.
"Would you just look at that?" Gabriel waved the magazine under Moreno's nose, "Look at that horrible outfit the Duke of Gloucester is wearing. Seriously, he's supposed to be like, a royal duke and he's wearing a grey shirt with khaki shorts. That just doesn't match, and neither of them flatters his body build, or suits his skin tone or his colouring."
Moreno peered at the picture, "Perhaps he just wanted to be comfortable for his flight. You shouldn't judge people on how they look."
"Where do you think he's going, anyway?"
"Probably escaping Prince Mercutio. I can't say I'd blame him, last time I was interpreting at the palace he put a snake in Signorina Duarte's office. I thought she was going to kill him."
"If he plays one more prank on her, I'll kill him myself," growled Gabriel, "Anyway, he should be back in Verona now. I had to interpret for mio amore to arrange his return, Edward looked absolutely delighted to be rid of him…"
He sauntered off to his car, without even offering Moreno a lift home.
Moreno shrugged, and went to catch the bus. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in a car with Gabriel anyway.