T i m e O u t

Thank you, Freddie

Thank you, Freddie

Helen Maxwell left the taxi outside Dublin's bustling airport, her cheeks flushed as anticipation battled with apprehension. Fear made her almost bolt back inside the safety of the relatively familiar car. Just like Dad's old car. Her anxiety diminished as she checked in for Venice at desk 19 and treated herself to a novel at the bookshop. Clutching her boarding card, she approached the security check.
Her workmates always went on about places they'd flown to and her friend Betty quipped that flying was like taking a bus. Helen had sworn that this year, as soon as she'd finished her summer job at Mega Records, she was going to spread her wings, so to speak, and overcome her fear of planes that had gripped her when she was twelve. Around the time her dad had died falling from his motorbike. She liked bikes but her fear of flying had deprived her of school trips abroad and sun holiday with friends or relations. Then last month Mum had almost shyly told her that she was going to Cyprus with, as she said, Alan, my colleague at the bank.
Betty had the solution: "Let your mum go, you come to Italy with me." But Betty had come down with a fever that very morning and here she was, alone.
You're doing fine, she reassured herself, passport ready for inspect....
Suddenly, she gasped: "Freddie!"
She ploughed back against the queue and was stopped by an officer. "Sorry, miss?"
Oh God! He thinks I don't want to go through that metal detector.
"... forgot something ... have to go back" she managed, barging straight into a passenger and scattering his bundle of papers on the floor.
"I forgot Freddie," she muttered and barely heard his reply: "You were right!"
How could she board a plane without Freddie? They'd just celebrated her 18th birthday and, now, she'd lost him. At the airport! Where is he? Where's the trolley?
The amused trolley attendant deadpanned: "Sorry Miss."
At the check-in desk? The hostess shook her head.
Maybe at security? The officer's gaze paused on her revealing top. "No darling! Leave your name and number with me and if he turns up I'll keep him safe for you."
But they didn't understand. Strands of hair were entangled in the strap of her shoulder bag where Freddie should have been tucked in.
Why did I take him out? Why did Betty have to get sick? Why did Mum...?
She'd never done anything major without her old teddy. She could never remember not having him. Measles, exams, England on the ferry, the funeral and now their first plane journey. She couldn't go without him.
Mum was right. "If you're old enough to go abroad you're old enough to leave that teddy bear at home."
They were announcing her flight. I have to get my case back!
Back at desk 19 she chokingly explained her dilemma to the now tight-lipped hostess who repeated that "no toy of any description has been found and once you've checked in, cancelling is a problem." The matter was closed "as will your flight, if you don't hurry."
Helen stumbled away. Her chest ached. Breathing was almost impossible.
The newsagent's! Yes! She'd left Freddie down while she'd leafed through a novel. She dashed into the shop and there he was, perched on a pile of newspapers. Grabbing the toy she mouthed a tearful "He's mine". The shop assistant smiled.
Helen was exhilarated. She could face anything now. The nightmare of boarding a plane was nothing compared to losing Freddie.
She reached gate B27.
"Did Freddie forget you then?" The man she'd bumped into earlier approached her. How nice! They were on the same flight!
"No, he waited. Here he is."
"Hello Freddie, I'm Peter Clarke. What's your mother's name?" What eyes and what a voice!
"Helen. I'm sorry about what happened earlier." Damn! She was blushing.
"Oh! It doesn't matter. You were a bit upset."
"A little," she fibbed.
"Time to board I see," he added and moved away.
On the plane she glanced around. No sign of him. Who's he with? Is he going to the same resort?
With Freddie snug in the seat pouch, she fastened her belt and closed her eyes.
Oh! God! The plane is rising. Don't think about it.
Maybe he'd invite her out.
The red dress ... perfect for a disco... Swallow if your ears pop.
She did as she floated on a magic carpet of fantasy, Peter's eyes dancing in front of her.
Wonder what impression...? ... thinks I'm only a kid being upset about a teddy ...
The hostess woke her. They were landing. Already! Gosh!
Flying wasn't at all as they'd warned her. No ears popping, no headache.
She retrieved Freddie who'd slipped under the seat and, as she took her bag from the overhead rack, she caught a glimpse of Peter. They waved.
They met again as they waited for their cases. Peter introduced the girl on his arm.
"Helen, this is Alice, my fiancée." His voice trickled devotion.
"Hello Alice," she hoped she was masking her surprise.
"Hi Helen," the girl smiled. She hadn't seen Alice at the airport or on the plane.
The brute! He'd led me on and his fiancée with him.
When her mother had said: "Be careful, love, young girls on their own are easy prey," she'd huffed haughtily. Now she almost giggled at her silliness and her gullibility.
I've had my first holiday romance and I'm not even out of the airport!
He'd been great company during the flight though! She'd never know what made her to do it but, suddenly, she poked her hand towards Peter's.
"Thank you, Peter, for helping me get over my fear of flying. Enjoy your holiday."
Smiling at Alice, she moved away to wait for her case, leaving them both staring at her.
"I swear I didn't talk to her on the plane. I just went to the loo." Peter's voice was raised.
"Well, it took you long enough." His fiancée was equally agitated.
"There was a queue."
"I'm sure! You'll never change, will you?"
People were staring. Helen kept her eyes averted.
"What do you mean I knew her before we left?" His voice was now harsh.
A third person urged them to get their bags and move on. Alice wasn't budging.
I'll go, it's none of my business. But she knew it was.
She walked towards Alice and managed a smile.
"I'm sorry Alice. I was joking. I didn't see your fiancé on the plane."
A frown of doubt furrowed Alice's face. Peter was at her side.
"I'm really sorry..." Helen repeated, squeezing Freddie. I've ruined everything.
"Introduce, introduce!" interrupted a voice behind them. The young man who'd earlier tried to reason with the arguing couple grabbed Alice round the waist.
"Ed, take it easy!" squealed Alice. "This is Helen. She almost broke my engagement. Helen, meet my brother Ed."
They shook hands and Helen repeated her apology.
"It serves me right. I'm always accusing Peter in the wrong." Alice said, turning to Peter. Their lips lingered on a kiss of forgiveness.
"I want the whole story," Ed began.
Peter interrupted him. "If I'm not mistaken, Helen, you're on your own."
"Yes, my friend..." But nobody wanted the details.
"We're at the Stella Maris. Where are you?"
"I'm at the Stella Maris too."
"Great! Stay with us," Peter said, "and between Alice and myself, Ed and Freddie, and the rest of the gang, we'll have one hell of a holiday."
Helen looked to where their friends were laughingly wrestling with luggage trolleys. Alice said: "Hey! Gang! Come here and meet Helen." She squeezed Freddie tighter.
"I'll carry this little chap," Ed offered, "just in case you lose him."
Her instant look of sheer terror made the young man return the teddy bear immediately.
"Sorry," he said. Then, before the others surrounded them, she handed him back.
"You can carry him," she said.
...
Two weeks later an exhilarated Helen alighted to typical, blustery, Dublin weather, her shining hair and radiant skin testimony to how she felt. Who cared about the weather! She was now part of the merry group manoeuvring protesting trolleys and promising to meet for drinks and exchange photos. It had been a great holiday. No happy-ever-after romance, no crazy partying. They'd swum, sun-bathed, gone bowling and discoing, visited Venice and sometimes just lazed about.
She'd never forget them. Peter, Alice, Angela, Richie, Paul, Linda, the jazz-crazy Gerry and especially Ed or Eddie, as Helen had decided to call him, with whom she could chat for hours. And she couldn't wait to see Mum and Betty and start her Art course in college.
Sitting in the taxi, she felt Freddie's bulk in the safety of her bag. Poor Freddie! She'd relegated him to the wardrobe during the holiday. But he'd understand. He was getting on and didn't really enjoy her lifestyle anymore. It was time for his retirement or, to be honest, he'd already retired. The matter just had to be cleared up between them. From now on he'd be happier keeping an eye on things in her bedroom. The stereo could be moved and Freddie would sit on the shelf just beside the photo of her dad where they could both catch the sun rays and whenever they had a while to themselves she would play his favourite oldies.

Pride of place for you, dearest Freddie, for being such a loyal friend.