The sun blazed in July, the air cooled in August, and the weather mellowed come September.
After leaving the airport, Remi instinctively pulled his coat tighter and quickly climbed into a black cab.
"Where are we off to, young lad?" the driver asked in a friendly tone.
A genuine London accent—how authentic!
Well, this was London, after all.
"101 Maple Road, just west of Hyde Park," Remi replied.
"Bit of a drive that, heading home are you?"
"I've got the fare."
"Right-o then. Strap in... If you're not in a rush, you can rest a bit. Should take about half an hour, give or take."
"Alright."
The driver moved at a steady pace, not too fast, which gave Remi time to enjoy the passing scenery through the window.
But after a while, he grew bored.
It was just a city. He'd seen countless cities in his previous life—none of it felt new anymore.
The taxi cruised smoothly and arrived at the destination in twenty minutes.
After paying, Remi got out. The driver kindly helped him retrieve his luggage from the boot.
They say one becomes more nervous the closer one gets to home. While Remi had felt indifferent in the cab, the moment he stood before the front door, unease crept in.
Taking a deep breath, Remi wheeled his suitcase up to the doorstep and rang the bell.
Ding dong~
Ding dong~
After a short wait, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and blue eyes opened the door.
They stared at each other—both clearly puzzled.
"You are...?" she asked.
Remi snapped back to attention and glanced at the house number.
It was 101, no mistake. Had he remembered it wrong?
"Excuse me, ma'am. Is Mr Barrett in?" Remi asked politely.
"Are you a relative of Mr Barrett?" the woman asked, eyeing his suitcase with a hint of concern. "He moved out about a year ago."
Remi: ???
What the—?!
No one told me they moved?! Nicolas Flamel has a phone!
Seeing Remi's baffled expression, the woman stepped aside to let him in. "Would you like to come in and sit a while? I still have Mr Barrett's private number."
"Thank you. I'm Remi, by the way."
"You can call me Miss Sandy. I teach at a local secondary school."
"Alright, Miss Sandy."
Inside, the furniture in the lounge looked oddly familiar. Clearly, some pieces hadn't been taken when the property changed hands.
Miss Sandy poured him a cup of tea, then pulled out a small notebook from the cabinet and flipped through it for the number.
She dialled, waited, and then gave Remi a thumbs up.
"Hello, Mr Barrett? It's Sandy—the one who bought your house a year ago."
"No, no, the house is perfectly fine… I'm calling because a boy named Remi has shown up here looking for you."
"Remi?!"
The sudden rise in volume startled Miss Sandy, and Remi heard it clearly from across the room.
"It's all right… Yes, he's here. I'll hand him the phone now."
Miss Sandy waved Remi over.
He stood, took the phone, and remained silent—so did the other end. If not for the faint static, Remi would've assumed the line had gone dead.
"Where did you move? Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
Miss Sandy looked over with mild surprise.
"Ahem… your mother's been a bit down since you left. We moved to Canterbury to help her recover. It's not a big city, slower pace, lovely atmosphere… Are you home for summer break?"
Remi, who had just begun to feel a flicker of understanding, exploded at the final remark.
"Summer break?! It's August! I start school tomorrow!"
"Oh… Time does fly. Are you transferring to a new school then? Just go on to school—I'll sort the paperwork soon."
"Transfer?" Remi arched an eyebrow. "Dear father, do you even remember what school I go to?"
"Err… yes, er… wasn't it that magic school? Have you learned any impressive spells?"
Remi clenched the phone harder as his father's tone shifted to eager curiosity.
"I haven't even started yet! School begins tomorrow! Until now, I've just been staying at Mr Flamel's and studying privately! Where are you? Come and pick me up!"
There was a brief silence, followed by an awkward cough.
"Um… your mother and I are… in Australia. Business trip."
Remi: ...
Brilliant.
Remi Barrett—full name—was a relative of the Barrett family, famed for inventing the Barrett sniper rifle in the United States. His parents worked for the Barrett Corporation, handling UK operations. In truth, they were glorified sales reps, lobbying officials to purchase firearms.
The arms business was much like antiques—dormant for years, but when it picked up, profits came in droves.
Before Remi had gone to live with Flamel, his parents had dragged him around the world, under the pretence of business, though it was clearly just company-funded tourism.
Now, they claimed to be doing business in Australia. Remi wasn't buying it.
They were obviously off on another holiday!
What would Australia even do with sniper rifles? Pick off kangaroos?
If kangaroos had any say, they'd probably call it a war crime.
"Do we need to be there for enrolment? Can't make it back in time even if we book now… Can I fax a guardianship letter to Nicolas Flamel?" Mr Barrett asked sheepishly.
"Forget it. A teacher's coming to collect me tomorrow. You two enjoy your little 'trip.'"
"Trip? Son, your mother and I are working—"
"Honey, what about this dress? It'll be perfect for photos with kangaroos! And that one—wouldn't it look dreamy beside a penguin?"
"Ahem, anyway—I've got something urgent to tend to. All the best with school… er, I mean, study hard. That's it. Bye now."
Beep—beep—beep…
Remi: ...
I'd love to post you a watermelon... to the face!
He hung up with a dark expression, politely thanked Miss Sandy, and picked up his suitcase.
But she stopped him.
"Where are you headed? You should wait a bit—maybe your father will come collect you."
Come collect me? More like collect photo ops with wildlife.
"My father's in Australia. He said I should stay at my aunt's."
"Oh… Would you like a lift there?"
"Thanks, but no need. I know the way—it's not far."
End of the Chapter.