Gordon Goes Back to the UK : (Chapter 40)

Saturday blues and cold tea

Blimey, it’s Saturday; suppose at least I don’t have to get dressed. As I put the kettle on and looked in the fridge, I remembered that Gordon was coming this afternoon for ham, egg and chips, uufff the thought of it turned my stomach.

The last poster run

“Gordon, do you think today, before we have our ham, egg, and chips, that you could come with me to put some more posters up, please?” I messaged. “Where bloody hell you would have to be a hermit to not know that George is missing by now,” he replied. “Does that mean you won’t help me?” I typed with a sad face emoji. “On the way,” he typed.

Gordon drove; I sat in the back of the car and would shout “Stop,” then I jumped out with either the mastic gun or the stapler or the sellotape gun, and Gordon just sat with the engine running. I could tell that he was loving every moment of this. So, after four hours, I called it a day and said, “Right, ham, egg, and chips with beer.” “About bloody time,” he replied.

The goodbye I wasn’t ready for

So, there I was now cooking ham, egg, and chips, and Gordon was getting the beers in and then I just broke. “I am never going to find him am I, Gordon?” I sobbed. Gordon isn’t Sue, or Kerry, or Claudia or Carol, Gordon is Gordon, and all he could muster up was, “Come on, let’s have another beer.”

The airport and the silence

This was probably what I needed, then though I became sad as Gordon was leaving tomorrow and I was worried about how I would manage without him.

Time was still going so fast, and before I knew it, I was driving Gordon to the airport. It was such a strange goodbye as I knew he was hurting for me. We hugged, and as I watched him walk down the alley with his bag over his shoulder, a tear dripped from my cheek.

Haunted by photos

As I walked in the door, everything felt so quiet, so wrong, I was so deflated, and I knew that everyone around me just didn’t know what to do. I was now understanding how I was hurting everyone around me.

So, there I was again, studying the photos of the body, trying to see anything that could say it was George. It’s amazing as to just staring at photos as to how the time passes; I did manage some sleep, yet tonight was a night of the most horrific of dreams.

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