10.08pm Thursday
How exciting to be driving into the ferry terminal, lining up behind car-loads of tourists, catching the holiday spirit. They handed over their passports, bought their tickets and, like all good motorists, checked that the car was properly packed: that the body was hidden from view beneath a mountain of bags on the rear window shelf; that the legs were adequately concealed under a rug on the floor.
Gertie and Joe were beginning to enjoy themselves. ‘See sea!’ cried Franklin’s head from its position under Joe’s arm. It was quite like old times. And now they were actually driving on to the ferry, The sea slid past and suddenly they were surrounded by the clang and reverberation of metal, the wheeze of hydraulic lifts.
Mr Stein switched off the engine and passed his wife the car keys.
‘Right,’ said Mrs Stein, checking through her things. ‘I’ve got the passports, the tickets, the money, the keys and (how appropriate) Franklin’s hand in my handbag. Joe’s got his head. All ready? Then let’s go.’
With a slam of car doors, they stepped out into the jostling throng.
Everyone was rushing to get what they needed from their cars before the deck was sealed off for the night. Parents swore softly as they ransacked boots for toothbrushes and pyjamas; small children howled, and in the midst of it all: ‘See boat’ came a muffled request from Joe’s rucksack.
‘For goodness sake, take that baby out of there before he suffocates!’ snapped an old woman, who was fortunately swept away by the crowd as it surged out of the car deck and up the stairs. ‘See boat!’ cried the bag after her, and then abruptly changed its tack. ‘Peekaboo Podgy,’ it hailed a young man in black leather.
Joe leapt sideways, ducked under someone’s arm and raced up the steps two at a time. ‘Shut up or heads will roll,’ whooped the bag, who was enjoying the fairground motion. Several passengers were surprised to learn Mr Stein’s opinion of other road users. So was Mr Stein, who made a mental note to moderate his language in Franklin’s presence as he hurried after his son. He reached the top of the stairs just in time to see Joe’s back disappearing through the door of the gents toilets and hear the bag introducing itself to everyone within as ‘a fantastic freak of nature whose existence rewrites Science as we…’
That did it! Joe threw himself into a cubicle, tore the bag off his back and ripped open the drawstrings. ‘Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?’ he snarled.
The head gasped. It cowered. It glanced round to check that some terribly bad person wasn’t standing behind it. Then it gulped. It batted its eyelids in injured innocence and finally it shot Joe a look that was hot with reproach. ‘In case you didn’t notice,’ it reminded him, in a voice that suggested that only someone deprived of all five senses could possibly miss such a thing, ‘Franklin was only copying what Dad said.’
And so that there should be no doubt as to the head’s superiority on this or any other point, it tossed itself in a Gertieish way and exclaimed, ‘No idea what the words mean’.
10.30pm Thursday
They took two cabins. One for the scientists, one for Gertie, Joe and Franklin’s head. ‘He’ll be quite comfy on a pillow in the basin,’ said Mr Stein and, having dealt with the sleeping arrangements, he gestured them all into the corridor. ‘Come on, let’s go and unwind….’
Franklin’s upper body, or torso, had discovered just enough about unwinding to jam the window-winding mechanism, but it couldn’t work out the child locks at all.
So far it had snapped the handles off the insides of both back doors and cracked the window on Gertie’s side, but when you’ve only got one hand, a paper heart and no head, hey, these things can happen. The Steins, meanwhile, made their way to the saloon bar secure in the knowledge that Franklin’s body lacked the necessary know-how to mastermind an escape bid. This was because they were taking Franklin’s head to the saloon bar with them.
As a result, the collar of the baby-blue shirt, where the head really ought to have been offering guidance and advice, was occupied by a large screw. Good for slashing upholstery, but useless with child locks.
So if Franklin’s torso hadn’t chanced to tumble neck-first on to the floor, thereby stabbing Franklin’s legs, it would never have found itself suddenly and painfully catapulted into the driver’s seat. It would never have escaped.
10.35pm Thursday
Escape was the first thing on Gertie’s mind when she entered the saloon. She gagged on the cigarette smoke, griped about the music and grimaced at the glittering array of bottles at the back of the bar. ‘But it’s boring here,’ she complained. ‘There’s nothing to do.’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Stein. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ She opened her bag and took out her purse. ‘Well what will it be? Coke and crisps?’
‘Yes please,’ said Joe. ‘We’ll take them up on deck and show Franklin the sea. He’ll like that.’
Mrs Stein turned to the barman and ordered the drinks.
‘I can’t help worrying about poor Franklin’s head,’ she remarked some time later, as she carried the glasses over to her husband. ‘What if Joe and Gertie let it fall overboard?’ Then she went back to collect her handbag which she had left open on the bar.
