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Chapter 40: Dude, Where’s My Cadbury?
🕑 Added 2024-07-01 13:38:24 +0000 UTCChapter 40: Dude, Where’s My Cadbury?
King’s Cross Station, London. July 2008.
Whenever I used to travel with Cadbury and Anita in the past, it was always the more image conscious Anita’s luggage that bent the frame of the trolleys - and also my poor aching back.
But as I strained to handle Cadbury’s fully packed duralumin case into her train carriage, the weight of the baggage felt heavier than anything I’d ever carried for her.
“Take care, Cadbury. Don’t forget to call. I’m going to need someone to bitch about Bas to. We’re going to have a hell of a time reining him in without you.” Even during their heartfelt goodbyes, my girls found some way to rag on me.
I wouldn’t disturb their hug, though. There was plenty of space inside the first-class cabin. It wasn’t even a penny to me, and I refused to let Cadbury travel in anything but comfort. “Of course, dear. My only regret is that we’ll no longer have one of our usual tea times.” Bending from my knees, I hefted her suitcase and slid it into the overhead compartment. Her family on the other end, at York station, would help her disembark even if I didn’t know that she had more muscle in her forearms than I did in my entire chiselled body.
“That’s you set, Cad.” I dusted my hands, and she put hers around my shoulders to turn me around to face her. She likely heard my voice quaver. I’d deny that it happened because I was dreading her departure. It was because I was winded from carrying her bags, okay?
We stared at each other for a moment. Anita had stepped to the side so we could have a little privacy.
There was so much I wanted to say, but my mouth wouldn’t let me voice any of it because I was afraid that if I blurted everything out now, we’d have little else to talk about in the future. No way, no how was I going to let that happen.
Cadbury, I suspected, was in a similar situation. The pupils of her eyes were dancing left, right, up, down, and all around as she drank me in one last time. I could tell she wanted to say something, too. Steam was coming out of her ears as the circuit and servos that made up my robot’s brain functioned overtime to formulate a response. “I-I have stocked your pantry, both in the caravan and the apartment, with your favourite cocoa blend.”
“You shouldn’t have. I’m never going to be able to make it as delicious as you.”
“Yes, you can. Do not let the time we spent drilling you on the basics of your own care go to waste. You are a bright boy, Mr Rhys. I have full faith you shan’t let my lessons go to waste.” To be clear, she obviously wasn’t talking about sundries anymore.
Her forever stiff-upper lift began to quiver. Cadbury was rapidly losing control of her brave face, so I had to put mine on instead. “Come here.” Remarkably, neither of us broke out in tears. The only thing that was broken was my back when she wrapped her pythons around me and squeezed. “I’m going to miss you, Cadbury.”
“And I, you.” We parted. Cadbury cleared her throat, fixed her hair, and straightened her face. I didn’t bother wiping away the little bit of moisture staining my shirt. “Even though I know that no matter how naughty my grandchildren end up being, I will have eight years of practice at my disposal to temper any tantrum they could throw at me.” She can joke!
“Then I very much insist you hire me as the birthday clown at their parties, so I can ruin them the tiniest bit. You’ll get the family discount, anyway.”
An announcement suddenly rang across the cabin, warning that the train was about to leave in five minutes and that all stragglers should either get in their seats if they have a ticket or kick themselves off if they didn’t.
“We should get going.” Anita was the first to suggest. I doubted she wanted to go to York unless there was ‘new’ in front of it.
“Before I forget, I owe the both of you something.” Stereotypically I’d expect a woman to rummage in her purse, but Cadbury had her belongings filed away with impossible neatness. She unhooked a leather strap and extracted a thick, leather-bound binder. “Anita, whenever you and the rest of the team proceed to recruit my replacement - whether they style themselves as a personal assistant, a manager, a publicist, or whatever.” Embossed in bold gold letters on the cover of the book was ‘Bas Behavioural Bible,’ “They shall undoubtedly find this meagre manual useful, particularly in the error-filled early days. It contains everything from his favourite meals, his preferred laundry detergents, all his bad habits - the few good ones he possesses they should strive to discover for themselves. I have even provided the passcodes for the restrictions placed on the parental control settings of his devices.” You’d think that, turning eighteen, I was owed those by now. “As for you, Mr Rh-Bas.” She dipped back into her handbag that probably came from the same factory that manufactured filing cabinets. “I believe you ought to hold on to this yourself from now on. In all likelihood, you shall be needing it more than ever.” The last thing Cadbury handed me was the first thing I’d ever given her to hold on to. My polaroid camera.
Anita and I had jumped back onto the platform from the train by the time the horn blew and it started picking up speed.
The windows to her cabin were tinted, so I couldn’t see in. But I knew she’d be looking out at us, so I stayed glued to my spot until the last cab pulled out of the station.
Anita curled her arm around my elbow and guided me away in the opposite direction of the railway. “C’mon, she’ll call us when she’s reached home. Let’s grab a bite. It’ll cheer you up.”
“Nah. It’s all cold sandwiches and coffee here. Eating food here is liable to have the opposite effect.”
“Ugh, fine! If you’re not going to talk to me, then don’t bitch when I book an appointment with a psychiatrist for you to get your feelings out.” Her words were cold, but her hand consolingly rubbing up and down my arm felt far warmer. “Although, that might have to wait for after we’re back from Japan. We’ve got to turn your frown upside down before our flight next week.”
“I’d argue that the brooding look would suit me quite well, actually; but I see your point. Honestly, I just really wanna be home right now.” And fortuitously we were in a train station that had tracks leading to pretty much anywhere and everywhere across the UK. “As far as seeing a shrink goes, no thanks. I’d rather solve my problems with some retail therapy instead.” That was sort of the point of this week, wasn’t it? “Let’s head to the nearest showroom. Giving Ben a conniption should soothe me.”
“Hey, are you Bas Rhys?” Uh-oh. A teenaged boy and his little sister had foiled my foolproof disguise.
“My mummy says you’re Harry Potter. Is that really you behind the mask?”
In all honesty, as loathe as I was to disappoint fans - especially the younger crowd - I really wasn’t in the mood. So I couldn’t help but ask, “are you two with the aurors? You sniffed me out so easily!” Both of their shoulders sagged and smiles brightened in relief as I pulled down my mask and greeted them in character.
Big brother spoke up first. “We weren’t sure it was actually you, but mum said she saw um… her,” He pointed at a sufficiently surprised Anita, “mum told me she read about you in one of those magazines she likes and that you’re his agent. He was standing next to you, so we took a gamble.” He shrugged in that typical teen way. “Paid off.”
Well, would you look at that? Forget Forbes, Anita should have had her profile published in Vanity Fair with the circus her ego boost had generated.
“Who is she, Harry? And why aren’t you wearing your glasses? You look so silly!”
Thwack! My palm impacting Anita’s forehead gave a nice meaty smack. “You mean you don’t recognise professor McGonagall? I knew I should’ve taken the polyjuice potion like her.” Little sister giggled profusely. “I thought taking off my glasses and wearing a mask would fool the death eaters. They’re still after me, you know?” Best part? Anita wouldn’t be able to retaliate until after the fans left. She was more interested in preserving my image than I was.
Letting go of her big brother’s hands, she latched on to mine instead. “Oh, no! That’s bad. Hermione’s right about you. You’re so irresponsible. Come with me. They won’t find you if you hide with us muggles.” Little sister was upgraded to clever girl in my estimation. Fortunately, not so clever that she’d broken the barrier of imagination.
Anita was still wrapped around me, so she was summarily yanked alongside me as the clever girl (who I’m sure would tell me her name before I’d even need to ask when I signed her autograph) tried to squirrel us away with a shocking amount of strength in her slim limbs. “Sorry about her, she’s a huge fan.” Big brother kept pace next to us.
“Just her?” I couldn’t help but with a quirk of my eyebrow. The red band of embarrassment that stretched across his cheek assured me I’d hit the mark. Little kids were freer expressing themselves, but I was aware enough not to neglect the young adults who’d grown up with the franchise, too.
In many ways, it meant more to them. “It’s her favourite thing to watch, so we always pop it on when I’m looking after her.” Even if they were reluctant to admit it.
Evidently, that polaroid cam of mine was gonna come in handy sooner than I’d anticipated.
–
Cardiff, Wales. July 2008.
Out of the three suggestions the Top Gear crew had provided - between the car, the bike, and the helicopter cum magic carpet - the four wheeler was the one that had won out to my mind.
However, I’d chosen to swap out the nearly five hundred horsepower for something a little more modest at just under two hundred horses. Though, I will say my new ride was a lot, and I mean a lot, more spacious. Twenty seats instead of two and a half.
Familiar sounds of gravel crunching under rubber tickled my memory as I reached the gates of the first home I’d known in this life.
Crank! I pulled on the brakes, honk! and blew the baritone horn of my brand spanking new minibus. I pressed a button on the centre console that beep, beep, beep! activated the automatic sliding door to the freshly purchased Toyota Coaster B50 Deluxe. “Oh, my heavens! Who-? Bas!” I poked my head out as soon as I heard Mrs Stephen’s medicinal shout.
“She’s all happy now, but you do realise she’s gonna tan your hide for showing up unannounced like this.” Anita said from where she’d strapped herself in - she was a cool kid, so obviously she’d sat all the way in the back.
“Worth it.” Curious heads of the tiny tenants residing in my old rooms peeked out. Each watching in astonishment as Mrs Stephens lifted her skirts and booked it straight down the pathway and leapt into my waiting arms the second I jumped out of the driver side door. “So, who’s ready to go on a field trip?”
How convenient that manor has a large, empty garage. I guess I’d just have to park the bus here.
Comments
Bar Calak
As anita said when she first met him. conniving little bastard with a heart of gold. Doing me best to keep him that way even as he learns and grows as a person - that core aspect can't be lost.
Bar Calak
Yes thanks for asking. sorry for making anyone worry
bomber-harris
U good bro?
BOOKRAIDER
Bas is still sweet despite the glitz and glam of Hollywood. I hope he keeps that part of himself alive. This was an awesome chapter thanks for sharing! I am excited to see what roles you pick out for him next. If he wants to play a villain he could play Bane in dark knight rises. Tom Hardy managed it and it would definitely test his acting chops. Silver Linings playbook was insanely popular I think. He is closer in age to Jennifer Lawrence than Bradley Cooper. Though admittedly those role are a bit heavy. 21 jumps street and the other guy are hilarious movies if he can get it.
