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Fragile. That’s how he’d describe her. Apparently there’d been an arson incident when she was younger but he didn’t ask about that. Sometimes it frightened him. The dark moods. The blank expression.

He wanted to help so badly, but felt weak. Ineffective.

His phone beeped as he eased his train to a halt at the last station. He read the message: I know you’re leaving me.

He sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his aching eyes. Peering through the bug-smeared windscreen he took in the skyline. A charcoal plume bled onto the evening pink.

No!

He ran.  

A three-state tour of America might not be the first holiday that springs to mind if you have a 6-year-old and a new baby. Louisiana, Tennessee and Florida. In two weeks. Was that possible? After speaking with Theresa at Bon Voyage we felt reassured. Her infectious enthusiasm convinced my husband and I to channel our inner Elvis: it’s now or never, we said.

Planning holidays with kids is usually stressful, so we were expecting a certain amount of faff and frustration. But having our itinerary taken care of from the outset was such a huge relief. From booking suitable accommodation to reserving a bassinet for our 6-month-old on the flight – all those niggles and stresses were taken off our hands.

New Orleans was our first stop, and our self-catered accommodation was perfect: no traipsing hotel corridors with a crying baby at 2am worrying about other guests!

We were within walking distance of the French Quarter, so the first morning we took a stroll to Café Beignet for breakfast. Beignets, the local sugared pastry  – BIG hit with 6-year-old Heidi!

Next, a lunchtime jazz cruise aboard the iconic steamboat Natchez. The music and the food were equally delicious and baby Maeve couldn’t keep her legs still in her sling as she jiggled away to the jazz.

The rest of our time was spent exploring the French Quarter. We were all in awe of the street musicians. Whether it’s a brass quintet or a solo singer, the quality of the music was astounding. But the hustle of the streets carries you along, past the art shops and painters, bars and cafes, and soon we needed refreshment. So, on Bon Voyage’s recommendation we headed to the Omni Royal Hotel. Away from the bustling streets below (and with a buggy-sleeping-baby) we enjoyed some downtime with rooftop drinks in the sunshine.

A ‘Kids Spooky Tour’ was booked for the following day. We learned about the myths surrounding the houses we visited and the ghosts that haunt them. The children were spellbound with tales of Voodoo witches and medicines. Whilst ghost-hunting Heidi was thrilled to find an ancient parchment written by the spirit of dead pirate! All in a day’s work.

As night descends in New Orleans the party atmosphere intensifies. Bourbon Street buzzes with lights and music, and revellers swagger from bar to bar. The restaurants we ate at seemed unfazed by kids, but we headed home before the streets got too rowdy.

From New Orleans we took the Amtrak train to Memphis. This took roughly nine hours and was very kid-friendly. Heidi could run around and we all enjoyed sitting in the viewing carriage taking in the countryside or playing cards. Bon Voyage had booked us a Roomette so by far the most exciting thing for Heidi was the top-bunk-style fold down bed to play on!

True to the Marc Cohn song we touched down in the land of the Delta blues, in the middle of the pouring rain. So next morning, emergency Walgreens umbrellas purchased, we braved the torrential downpour. Two blocks on we were grateful to take shelter and warm up with plenty of coffee and a beautiful cooked breakfast at Hotel Indigo. From here we took a taxi to Graceland.

The modest façade of Elvis’s home surprised me. However, inside was wonderfully eccentric, and Heidi particularly liked the completely mirrored hallway, and the ‘Jungle Room’ with wooden seats carved into animal shapes. We ate at a cheesy diner in a silver Cadillac with red leather seats, lastly hitting the obligatory gift shop. This is where Heidi became Elvis’s biggest fan, emerging laden with printed T-shirts and sparkly key-rings!

The Peabody Hotel was our next stop, to see the famous ducks. It’s hard to describe this experience without sounding like you’re recounting a bizarre dream, but here goes: An MC stands in the magnificent foyer of this historic hotel, a water feature behind him. At his feet, several ducks splash, seemingly oblivious to his booming, amplified voice, and the hundreds of Martini-sipping spectators. After his speech, he produces a set of little wooden steps, and the ducks obediently swim up to them, process out of the fountain and along a red carpet (laid out especially for them), and waddle into the gilded elevator, to be escorted up to their sleeping quarters on the hotel roof. Being with children we were ushered straight to front row seats, so close we could feel the droplets of water flicked from tail-feathers. Heidi was delighted. And in a blink of an eye it was over, everyone remembering their cocktails and continuing their conversations. A charmingly bizarre experience!

After eating delicious BBQ food at Blues City Café we had time to check out a couple of bars on the famous Beale Street. Such spectacular live music! But by now it wasn’t just the children who were fading, so we all headed back to our apartment, buzzing with the sights and sounds of the day.

It was a three hour flight from Memphis to Miami, and from there we drove to Naples. After the excitement and non-stop activities of New Orleans and Memphis, we melted into sun-loungers or floated in the pool, emerging for a stroll to the beach, or a trip to the harbour for fish and chips. Our pace had turned gentle and slow. Naples is spacious and immaculately cared for and the people are friendly. We took a boat trip around Port Royal and browsed the harbour-side gift shops.

Heidi spent most of her days in the pool, and Maeve was happy playing in the shade or napping.

Was this holiday only two weeks long? As we reminisced on the flight home it seemed impossible we could have fitted so much in. At the same time, the glorious laziness of the second week meant we’d also had time to relax. Bravo to Bon Voyage for helping us Walk the Line between a musical Deep South adventure and a chilled out family break!

Part 1

Holly felt terrible as soon as she realised there’d been a mistake – but by then it was too late.

She watched Hari’s parents marching across the playground, led by Mrs McBride, the Headteacher. They all looked very serious as if something terrible had happened. Which, as Holly knew only too well, it had. Her heart pounded in her chest and her cheeks flushed hot.

‘Holly?’ Mr Evans’ voice spiked her attention. ‘Are you concentrating?’

‘Yes, Mr Evans. Sorry.’ She bowed her head to look at her book, the words a jumbled mess of spider-black lines.

It was impossible – she couldn’t keep her mind on her work, or anything Mr Evans was saying. Just like so many times over the last three days, her mind slid back to the store cupboard, and the screwdriver. She didn’t know why she’d done it. It was as if she’d lost her mind for a moment. She had been taking some tennis racquets back to back to the store cupboard after P.E, and it had just been lying there. Mr Matthis the caretaker must have left it. She’d seen her Uncle Jeff carving in his workshop, making beautiful shapes with the wood. She’d watched him for ages, picking up the little golden curls that fell from his work, like tiny strands of fairy hair.

So, in the cupboard she had picked up the screwdriver and run her fingers over the metal, and the flat, wedge-shaped end. Then she had closed the door and sat in the semi darkness, and quietly carved ‘H’ into the soft, pale wood at the base of the shelf. It was a big ‘H’ so she could turn the ends of the lines into flourishes. The horizontal line she carved diagonally, and even attempted to embellish it with leaves and buds. In her mind she could see exactly what it would look like, and it would be beautiful. But then she’d finished, and it hadn’t been beautiful. There were no smooth curves or delicate details like she’d seen her Uncle Jeff conjure. What Holly had created was rough and ugly, and had awkward splinters protruding at all angles.

When it was done, she’d shaken her head as if waking from a trance. How long had she been in the cupboard? She had no idea. She’d stood, dropped the screwdriver, and without a second look at her creation, she’d headed for the door.

It wasn’t long before Holly had started hearing whispers. Hari Loke had been found vandalising the store cupboard! Holly didn’t find this statement to be very shocking – Hari was not well-behaved. He was often in trouble with the teachers, and so she wasn’t surprised he’d been found vandalising. But then she’d heard something else. She’d heard that he’d been found with a screwdriver, carving an ‘H’ for ‘Hari’ into the shelf in the storeroom.

This news had spread with frightening speed, and Even Holly’s mother had heard about it from other parents. She’d asked her about it on the walk home from school that day. Was it true? Had Holly seen the damage? Mrs McBride took vandalism very seriously, and Holly’s mother shook her head and speculated about what would happen to Hari. Perhaps he’d be suspended from school? At this, Holly’s blood had run cold. She wanted to say something, but at the same time, the need to stay silent overwhelmed her. She couldn’t eat her dinner that evening and she couldn’t sleep that night. Her mother had placed a concerned hand on Holly’s forehead, and said she thought Holly was ‘coming down with something,’ but Holly knew it was far worse than that.

And now Hari’s parents had been called to the school. Her head turned to the window again and she watched Mrs McBride talking to another teacher whilst Hari’s parents stood solemnly next to her. Then she saw Hari. Unusually subdued, he stood next to his mother, his head bowed and his messy, black hair flopping over his eyes. He was chewing his lip. Suddenly, as if sensing he was being watched, his head snapped up and his eyes met Holly’s. They stared at each other, unblinking.

A loud groan startled Holly and she jumped in her seat, her gaze darting around the classroom. All eyes were on her. Her stomach flipped as she realised she had made the sound.

‘Is there something you want to say, Holly?’ asked Mr Evans.

‘No, Sir,’ she said. But there was something she wanted to say. Needed to say. She just didn’t know how to say it… or if she’d ever have the courage.

The announcement came at 10.15. A grave-looking Ms Okoro came into the classroom and whispered something to Mr Evans. He nodded solemnly, slowly placing his pen down on his desk, and turning to the class.

‘There will be a special assembly in fifteen minutes. Mrs McBride wants to talk to the school about a very serious incident.’

Holly’s heart pounded in her chest as the class filed into the assembly hall along with the rest of the school. Her skin felt clammy, and the frantic whispers of children and teachers swamped her brain.

‘Settle down!’ came the command from Mrs McBride. The Headteacher’s eyes were screwed up into disapproving slits as her gaze flitted over children, who had all fallen silent.

It was only at this point that Holly noticed Hari. He was sitting on a small chair at the side of the hall, head bowed and hands clasped in his lap. He looked like a soft toy that had had the stuffing pulled out of it. Holly’s stomach squirmed and she thought she might be sick. Breathe… breathe…

‘I have called this emergency assembly today to talk about a very serious incident. Something that simply will not be tolerated in this school: VANDALISM.’

There were muted gasps and scattered whispers around the hall. Mrs McBride continued with terrifying relish.

‘Hari Loke, here,’ she gestured disdainfully in Hari’s direction, ‘thinks that school property matters so little, that he is free to deface and destroy it.’

More muttering. Holly’s palms were sweating and she rubbed them on her grey skirt, a lump rising in her throat. Hari didn’t do it. Hari didn’t do it. The words swam around her brain. She knew she had to do something, and quickly.

Part 2

Mrs McBride was in full-swing now, and as usual, enjoying her role as judge, jury and executioner. These ‘special’ assemblies only happened very rarely, and although they delighted most of the school, they were usually intended to make an example of a specific child. A child who had done something Mrs McBride deemed truly awful.

‘And let me tell you something,’ Mrs McBride continued, ‘what makes this situation SO much worse for Hari, is that despite being caught red-handed, Mr Loke REFUSES to admit his guilt, and APOLOGISE!’

Hari didn’t look up, but violently shook his head, and murmured something.

‘What? Are you interrupting me? HOW DARE YOU!’ Mrs McBride’s furious eyes were pointing full-glare at Hari.

‘If you have something to say, then say it to the entire school!’  she bellowed, her voice bouncing viciously around the hall.

Her arm swept in an angry arc through the air, offering Hari an audience he clearly didn’t want. Shakily he stood up. His head tilted upwards to look out at the sea of eager faces. Several straggles of hair flopped over his eyes and he meekly brushed them back with his hand. This was wrong. This was not the Hari that Holly knew. Hari Loke was confident. ‘Cocky’ is what the teachers called him. He swaggered about the playground kicking footballs at people. He made farting sounds when the teacher’s back was turned. He hit tables and pushed over chairs and kicked walls when he got angry. He didn’t stand, quivering, unable to think what to say. He drew a breath.

‘I didn’t do it,’ he said, in a small, wobbly voice that Holly hadn’t heard before.

And then Holly saw them: tears. He was clearly concentrating very, very hard so they didn’t spill over and run down his cheeks. That was the moment that did it.

Holly stood up. Sameera who was sitting next to her started in surprise and began tugging at Holly’s skirt.

‘What are you doing, Holly? Sit down!’ she whispered. ‘Mrs McBride’s going to kill you!’ Holly ignored her.

It was as if Holly was a stone dropped into a still pond, the whispers rippling out from where she stood until they lapped at the edges of the water… attracting the attention of the teachers who sat around the hall. The last person to notice Holly standing was Mrs McBride, because she was still glaring at Hari. But Hari wasn’t looking at Mrs McBride, he was looking at Holly. The two children stared at each other over the sea of heads. Mrs McBride swung her gaze wildly between them, her face contorted with confusion. Holly blinked and fixed her gaze on Mrs McBride who fell still, and stared back with shrew-like eyes. Holly’s heart pounded her ribcage like a drumbeat, beckoning her to the gallows. She drew a deep breath.

‘I did it.’ Holly’s voice was loud and clear. The murmurs grew louder.

‘Everyone, be QUIET!’ shouted Mrs McBride, ‘What are you TALKING about, Holly?’

‘I vandalised the store cupboard, not Hari.’

This time there were no murmurs, only silence. All eyes were on Holly and Holly looked uncertainly between Mrs McBride and Hari, unsure whether she should continue. The Headteacher’s eyes narrowed.

‘And why would you do that?’ she asked, her voice quiet and dangerous.

Holly took a deep breath. Hari took a deep breath. It seemed the entire school took a deep breath and held it, waiting.

Then Holly spoke. She didn’t know how much Mrs McBride wanted to know, so she said everything. The words poured from her like gushing water from a fountain. She talked about her Uncle Jeff and the amazing objects he carved. She talked about his workshop and the smell of wood-shavings and beeswax. She talked about sitting with him every time they visited his house and watching him cutting and carving and sanding and polishing and how incredible it was. Once, Uncle Jeff told her that he was working on a wooden archway for a church and she had begged him to let her go with him. Eventually her mum had agreed, if she promised to be good. She told the school about the journey to the church in Uncle Jeff’s van where the seats are really high up, and that when they got there she spent the day exploring the church, and watching him work on the carvings in the wood – a cross, and leaves and vines. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she asked Uncle Jeff to teach her how to do that too, and he said he would when she was a bit older, but that it would take a lot of practice if she wanted to get really good at it. And she told them about the journey back to his house in the van and how they had stopped at a roadside café and he’d bought her a really big ice-cream and let her eat it in the van because it was already really dirty in there and he didn’t mind if she got it on the seats. And it was the best day ever and she was really excited about being able to make things like Uncle Jeff did one day.

Holly had finished talking. She felt light and numb. She looked at Hari and watched his shoulders slump as he let out the breath he must have been holding since he was first blamed for something he didn’t do. There were still no murmurs. After what felt like an hour, Mrs McBride’s voice sliced the air.

‘I would like everyone to return to their classrooms.’ Her voice was slow and clipped.

‘Except Holly and Hari. You are to remain behind because I need to speak to you both. Please.’

Holly stood and waited for the rest of the school to file out, rustling and jostling along their rows. It was at this moment that Holly realised something strange: she didn’t care what Mrs McBride was going to say. She didn’t care what her punishment would be, how terrible it was or how long it would last. She didn’t even care about her mother being called to the school. For the first time since it had happened, she felt calm. As the last of the children left the hall, Holly and Hari’s eyes met. And probably for the first time ever, they smiled at each other.