Long Acre was busy with traffic and with crowds of people streaming in and out of the tube station. Craig waited by the corner with a navy surplus kitbag trying to breath carefully. The dread day had arrived and nerves were overcoming him. Martha waved from across the street and crossed between the cars and vans to meet up with him. She offered him a small paper bag with steam wisping out of the top.
"Bacon roll for breakfast," she said. "Brown sauce, like you said."
"Ah. That's great, Martha." He looked optimistically into the bag, felt the heat thru the paper and smelt the just-cooked aroma. " I don't think it'll be the same in Mexico."
"Is no-one else going on the plane with you?" Martha asked. "I thought that obnoxious prick, Parkinson, was arranging everything."
He nodded. "Oh yeah. Plenty of us are going. Parkie got a load of cheap tickets for a charter plane at a bucket shop on Tottenham Court Road. It cleaned me out of petty cash, but we'll all stick together for food and stuff. It should all work out fine." His jaw twitched nervously. "We're all meeting up at Heathrow. At the bar. Assuming there's only one bar, they should be easy to find."
"Good," she said quietly. "An adventure within an adventure. A bit like mine. But with tacos."
"No more postcards from Him?" he said, nibbling the edge of the roll at the top of the bag. The meat was overly salted and dripping with globules of fat. It tasted great.
Her smile faded briefly. "No. Nothing for the past two months. He's probably off catching the Loch Ness Monster or something. All such fun." She forced out a harsh laugh.
Craig shrugged. "I don't know about your one, but mine does his own thing. You're probably better off without him. Just saying." He shrugged his shoulders again.
She watched him eating more of the roll, then followed his gaze as he looked up again. "True, Craig. But you've got to have a bit of hope. No money. Rubbish job. But a bit of hope. Don't you think?" She looked him in the eye and blinked.
"I thought you were enjoying yourself here. In this time. I know it's a bit smelly, but it's not exactly an alien world."
Her shoulders sank. "You're not listening to me then. I have to work twice as hard as I used to just to pay for the rent on our flat. And I used to be a doctor. Here I just bundle up dreary flowers and trail them around back doors. I can't go very far in case He comes back. Then I might miss my chance. You know? My chance to get back."
He sighed. "You're fantastic, Martha," Craig said. "You shouldn't have to wait around like this. Not for any guy. You could be off ruling the world, or at least changing the world as it is."
She looked away, upset. Then looked back with a small nod.
"What are you crying for?" asked Craig. He was taken aback.
She wiped her cheeks and looked up, meeting his gaze with a sad smile. "You're the best friend I've had in a long time, Craig," she said. "It's difficult to see you go."
"I'll be back in a couple of weeks. Mission accomplished, or not. Things will be better then. We'll come up with a proper plan. Make some proper decisions." He tried to appear as positive as possible, but he could already feel nerves about the trip building in his belly.
"Assuming I've not been whisked away by one or other incarnation of our time traveling friend."
"Would you wait for me?" he asked quietly.
"What do you mean?" she replied. Then she realized what he meant. "Oh, I never really thought. I mean, I never thought." It was difficult to know what to say.
He shrugged. "Of course, Martha. You have plans. I'm sure He told you what your future is. Definitely not with, well, with me."
She shook her head. "No. He didn't tell me. I didn't want to know. It would just have been a thing that he held over me, or something I was always fighting against. I suppose I just thought that I was here temporarily. Best not to put down any roots."
"It's been six months, Martha," he said. "He might come back. But be careful not to let time pass you by."
She looked around at the Victorian brick buildings. It was not so different from the London she had known previously. Dirtier, ruder, more earnest, and more honest. "I could just live here for the rest of my life. With everyone here. Maybe that is the best way to live."
Craig lifted the kitbag and swung it back onto his right shoulder. The weight fought to pull him backwards and he leaned forward to compensate. "Well everyone else here will have to live here for the rest of their lives. I'm sure they'll do just fine."
"Good luck," she said and kissed his cheek briefly. He tried to hug her but the balance of the bag kept him from moving from a standing position. She laughed.
"Thanks," he said. He looked at his wrist-watch. "I'd better go. It might take a couple of hours if there's any hold-up at Hammersmith." He gave her a little wave and struggled to the little gate where his ticket was nodded thru.
She stood and watched him press the elevator button. The attendant pulled the cage door to the side and helped him in with the bag. As Craig turned, he spotted her waving and gave a little tap to his forehead, like a salute. There were a few more seconds before they descended. She felt for each second that she had to turn and go, but she waited for the moment that the lift car disappeared leaving a gray dark wall surrounding the space.
She turned, held her breath briefly, and walked back to the market.
*** END OF PART ONE ***
