Trisha noticed me tilting my head to listen. ‘It’s from a remote Botswanian tribe I stumbled across when I visited the country many years ago. The bushmen from the Kalahari Desert performed at this tiny camp I was sleeping in for the night and their voices, rhythms and unusual dance moves were nothing like you would find down the local discotheque back home. I just fell into a trance and persuaded the tribesman to let me tape them on my Dictaphone. It’s not the best quality, but it takes me back.’
‘I’ve never heard anything like it,’ I admitted, as Trisha returned to making the tea, humming along.
Brochures on a walnut bookcase were meticulously separated into areas – exactly how I would have placed them, with European breaks at the top followed by Russia, China, Asia, Africa, the Americas, Australia and New Zealand and even Antarctic brochures. Trisha had the whole world covered here. My fingers reached out instantly to a South East Asia brochure. I lazily flicked through pages of colour from Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand, each exotic image drawing me in.
‘You take milk and sugar, love?’ Trisha called out, making me pop the brochure back on the shelf nervously.
‘Just milk please.’
‘Ah, sweet enough are you?’ She smiled, repeating my dad’s favourite catchphrase.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ I grinned and padded over to the far wall that was covered in postcards from all over the world. Must be from happy clients, I thought, absently picking one that had dropped to the floor and turning it over. ‘Greetings from Uganda! You were right Trish, the tilapia is incredible here. Who knew I’d be choosing fish over greasy kebabs, how things have changed hey! Having an incredible time. It’s hard work getting around this beautiful country, especially in the heat, but it is so worthwhile. Hope all is good with you and you’re following the doctors’ orders? Love Stevie x’
‘Ah, most of those are from Stevie, he’s such an adventurer,’ Trisha said warmly. I quickly put the card back on the wall, flushed from reading her personal messages. Who was Stevie and why did Trisha need to be following doctors’ orders? I thought she seemed quite sprightly, albeit a little tired-looking.
A liver-spotted hand passed over a cup of tea, breaking my thoughts. Beckoning me to sit on the sofa with her, Trisha explained that she’d picked up the beautiful emerald green teacups in Iran eighteen years earlier. Sat close up Trisha didn’t look like your typical explorer; there were no stuffed animals hung on the walls, none of those round brown hats you imagine adventurers wearing or rifle guns proudly displayed. She looked like she would be more at home watching Bargain Hunt rather than bartering for crockery in an exotic eastern market.
‘Your shop’s beautiful, how long have you had this place?’ I waved my hand around the mysterious room, taking in the heavy aubergine velvet drapes hung majestically at the windows and a large sumptuous chandelier casting droplets of golden light from its vertical glass shards. It was a mix of safari meets Moroccan boudoir.
‘Ah, this is my baby,’ Trisha beamed as if seeing the room for the first time. ‘Never got round to having children of my own as me and my wonderful late husband Fred spent most of our time globetrotting. When we finally settled in Manchester I’d unfortunately missed that boat. His health wasn’t in the best condition back then so we used every penny we had to buy this place and focused our energies here.’
‘It’s a stunning space; you must actually enjoy coming to work here every day?’ A world away from my nondescript desk in the ugly grey office building I used to work at.
‘I truly love it and have been very blessed to have loyal clients help me, but I’m not getting any younger and the day will soon come when all this gets passed on to my godson, Stevie.’ She nodded towards the collection of postcards. ‘He’s about your age and just one of the few family members I have left.’ She rubbed her neck, wincing slightly. ‘He’s always sending me postcards from the countries he travels to, mostly on work trips. We have a lot of itchy feet in our family if you know what I mean!’
‘Athlete’s foot?’ I asked.
Trisha let out a long chuckle. ‘No dear, I mean that our feet itch to be on the move. To travel. That’s why sometimes I worry that when my time is up Stevie will struggle to cope with staying in one place indefinitely. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good boy, but exactly like his mother was when she was his age, always looking for the next challenge and country to discover. I don’t think he’s lived in one town for longer than a year, keeps you on your toes our Stevie!’
God, this guy sounded like the polar opposite of Alex, who wouldn’t have moved to turn off the television if he’d lost the remote. Imagine leading such an exciting and fun life, always on the road, travelling all over the world. I could understand why the poor lad didn’t want to come rushing to Manchester to help his godmother’s business, it would be such a comedown.
‘I saw you earlier actually, running with a handful of brochures from those idiots up the road. I wanted to open my door and shout out for you to come in here as I was certain you wouldn’t find what you were looking for in that noisy, childish place. They should be ashamed, being so dismissive of anyone who isn’t 18 years old, doesn’t look like them or is only clutching pocketful’s of Daddy’s money on some sort of enriching gap year,’ Trisha said before breaking into a laugh. ‘Ha! The only thing those kids will be learning is how to get out of a Bali jail after being caught with marijuana on them. They think that traveling is just risking their lives, livers and futures for a jaunt around Asia with their eyes completely closed to the beauty and hospitality that receives them. But you – you remind me of me when I was your age.’
I spilled a little of my tea. ‘Oh, erm, really?’
‘Now, of course I don’t know you, but I don’t think you do either. That can be confusing, scary but also exhilarating.’ She had a point. ‘Over the years I’ve become pretty adept at understanding others; you need to, if you want to see the world. You also have to understand that everyone has a story and many of those stay hidden unless you really look for them.’ She sipped her tea. ‘So, have you just finished work for the day?’
‘I got fired.’ The words tasted bitter in my mouth.
‘Ah, I see. I’ve also noticed you’re not wearing a ring on an important finger and I look into your eyes and see a sadness, so I’m guessing there has been some recent mess-up in the love department?’ I fidgeted slightly, almost getting swallowed up on this cloud of a sofa. ‘You want to make changes in your life, but are scared of what these will mean, both to you and others around you.’
‘Yeah, something like that.’ She was right, of course. After I gave Trisha a much shortened story, as apparently I was sat with ‘Mystic Meg’, she rose and handed me the South East Asia brochure – the one I’d previously picked up myself.
‘It sounds like you’re new at this game, so I don’t want to fling you in some Outer Mongolian goat shed. Not just yet, anyway,’ she smiled, taken back to some distant memory. By the look on her face I thought maybe I did want to stay in some stinky goat shed.
‘I think Thailand would be perfect for you. They mostly speak English; it’s a country full of joy, charm and smiles. Just what you need to be around at the moment. It has beaches, jungles, metropolitan cities and the capital, Bangkok, is a place I’d advise anyone to go at least once in their life.’
‘That does sound pretty great.’ I thought back to my travel wish-list that I’d hastily unscrunched from my wastepaper bin, mentally checking things off: ride an elephant, laze on white sandy beaches, get some culture and visit temples. The images shining from the sleek pages were so tempting. Suddenly my mum’s shrill tones clanged in my head: Who would help me if I got sick? What if someone tried to drug me, or even worse, force me to become a drugs mule?
Trisha must have sensed my hesitation: ‘For the first-time traveller it can all feel a bit overwhelming, so why don’t we look at joining you onto a tour group? That way you’ll be with people in similar situations to yours;