Chapter 3
Chapter Three
EVIE
‘Business class have already boarded.’ The man at the front desk pointed to the far side of the waiting area with a pained, patronising smile and I hurried over.
Okay, so I’d got sidetracked in the duty-free shop, still coming down from the hot flush of whatever it was when I threw myself at that poor man.
I was glad I had, even though he couldn’t get away fast enough.
I knew what it was like to have people who didn’t even know you accost you and be unkind, although he probably thought I was a lunatic.
For the first time in my life, the cabin-crew member directed me to the left.
I flashed her a dazzling smile because trying to be cool was impossible.
Oh, Mum, look at me now. Most people in business class were already seated as I skipped my way down the aisle.
The seats in the fancy little cubicles that looked more like library carrels were bigger than I’d ever seen and the layout completely different to what I was used to.
There were only four seats across in total.
Single seats by the windows and then two in the central aisle.
My seat was in the central aisle.
The occupant in the seat next to mine might have had his head bowed but I recognised the familiar navy-blue ball cap and almost laughed out loud, although I was still reeling from his abrupt departure in the lounge. He was definitely going to think that I was stalking him or something.
‘Hi,’ I said, making my way to my seat. ‘Is this seat taken?’
He lifted his head and his eyes narrowed, looking at me and then back down at the empty seat next to him.
There was a brief flash of something in his eyes, a quick indefinable spark, before it was doused and his face went purposefully blank.
Clearly, I’d disturbed his equilibrium, which was good because he’d disturbed mine.
‘Actually, it is my seat,’ I said, giving him what I hoped was a winning smile.
For a moment, several different emotions flitted across his face as if he couldn’t decide how he was feeling.
‘Right,’ he said and settled on calm resignation, offering up a polite smile.
‘Small world.’ Then all my cool flew out of the window. ‘Can I just say, I’m really not stalking you. I haven’t changed my ticket or anything.’
He didn’t laugh.
‘I didn’t think you were,’ he said, and I knew whatever flirty vibes had been dancing between us earlier had been well and truly quashed.
It was something to do with the name that angry little man had announced, but I couldn’t fathom it.
I’d been racking my brain. Sanderson? But it was like trying to pin down mist, the more I thought about it, the more the name eluded me. I was sure I must have heard of him.
He watched as I sidled into my seat. Well, not so much sidled, because there were bags of room. In fact, there was so much leg room you could swing a whole litter of kittens in there.
‘Nice,’ I murmured, patting the armrest, trying to look as if I flew business class all the time, while resisting the desire to riffle through the exciting-looking, complimentary White Company pouch of goodies.
Before I could even rearrange the blanket and the pillow to belt myself in, one of the cabin crew appeared with a tray of orange juice, water and champagne.
‘Thank you,’ I said with a grin, taking a champagne. Next to me, Mr Sanderson, whoever he was, helped himself to an orange juice and kept his head down. After the unpleasant encounter in the airport lounge, I could understand his reticence to be noticed.
* * *
I decided to ignore the Sanderson guy next to me and all pretence at being cool went out of the window as I tested all the buttons on the armrest. The bottom half of the seat slid out beneath my legs and the back tilted, so that I was reclining in comfort.
I returned it to the upright position and delved into the little pouch of goodies to find an eye mask, a pair of socks, a little bamboo toothbrush and miniature toothpaste, some moisturising facial spray and a little bottle of perfume.
I pulled out the stiff card menu from the pocket in front of me and studied it.
A brunch of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon with an English muffin, along with fresh fruit and organic Greek yoghurt would be served, as well as champagne.
Later on, there would be afternoon tea with cucumber sandwiches, egg sandwiches, ham sandwiches, mini macarons, chocolate eclairs and mille-feuille finishing off with a fruit scone, clotted cream and strawberry jam.
I replaced the menu with a happy smile and settled back into my seat. I could definitely get used to this.
Even though there was so much more space than I was used to on a plane, I was very aware of him sitting next to me and every movement he made. I could even smell him. He wore one of those lovely expensive rich cedary colognes.
As he’d made it plain that he wanted to pretend we’d never met before, I did my best to ignore him, watching the activity around me as the cabin crew delivered drinks to everyone, smiling and nodding every time I caught their eye.
The minute the aircraft doors were closed and everyone had finished filing through the cabin to their seats, Mr Handsome took off his cap and I removed my sunglasses and hat, giving him a conspiratorial smile.
‘You think it’s safe?’ I asked in a teasing whisper, feeling that despite his recent reticence, our makeshift disguises and previous experience had created a common bond.
He shot me a wary look. ‘You’re a talker, aren’t you?’
I eyed him warily. ‘What does that mean?’
‘On flights, you either sit next to someone who is happy to chat away for the whole time, or someone who would rather be left in peace.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘And you’d rather be left in peace.’
His mouth tightened in what might have been a that would be nice look.
‘Right,’ I said, but I wasn’t going to let him have the last word. ‘Message received and understood.’ I mimed zipping my mouth closed but gave him a cheerful grin to let him know I thought he was being a bit of an arse.
He turned back to his phone.
I listened avidly to the pre-flight safety talk and studied the instructions on the card in the pocket even though next to his indifferent nonchalance I felt unbelievably na?ve.
Once the plane took off, still aware of the silent man beside me, who was now plugged into a film, I decided to try out the entertainment system.
It proved trickier than it looked because I couldn’t even flip the controller out of its little slot.
Trying to be subtle about it, so as not to advertise my complete incompetence, I kept going back to it every couple of minutes, like a cat playing with a cornered mouse but no matter which way I pressed or prodded I couldn’t get the damn thing out.
There was a heavy sigh from my left and Captain Grumpy removed his headphones.
‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes, thank you. Not used to this … model.’
‘Here you go.’
Of course he popped it out straight away.
His fingers grazed my hand, and I almost dropped the stupid thing. He glanced at me quickly, his eyes narrowing before his gaze slipped down to my lips. The covert look was so quick, I could almost think I imagined it.
‘Thank you. I don’t know…’ My voice trailed off because he’d already put his headphones back on. His movement, abrupt and sharp, and his body stiffening and leaning slightly away from me, as if he wanted to put as much distance between us as he could.
Hurt, yet at the same time amused, I ignored him – what was his problem?
I began flicking through the entertainment system and to my amazement and delight I found that I could view a live football game.
My team, too. Arsenal. It had always been my dad’s team and after he died, Mum carried on supporting them but swapped allegiance to the women’s team.
Going to see a women’s game at the big stadiums is much, much cheaper than the men’s games, so Mum and I used to go to Arsenal to watch the ladies’ side.
Donning my own headphones, I tuned into the pundits’ preamble before the start of the first half.
Once the game began, I noticed that he shot several glances towards my screen, although that might have had something to do with the little twitches I gave whenever anyone took a shot in the box or came close to tapping a goal in.
No doubt I was still annoying him – but he’d just have to suck it up.
I’ve always been an active screen-watcher.
I’m the sort of person that ducks when a plane flies towards the camera in a film.
When I groaned aloud at an easily missed penalty, I caught him almost smile. That charming dimple haunted my peripheral vision.
Half-time arrived, with the offer of another drink from the cabin crew, and we both took off our headphones as we were served a beer and a glass of wine respectively along with packets of crunchy nibbly things.
‘Cheers,’ I said as I raised my glass – it was only polite – and took a sip of the very nice French wine.
‘You like football?’ he asked, his eyes scanning my screen.
‘Only the women’s game,’ I explained.
‘Right.’ He looked delightfully confused and intrigued. ‘And why’s that?’ He took a swig of his beer and leaned back in his chair, but the feigned indifference of his pose gave him away; I had the feeling that he was genuinely interested in my answer.
‘One,’ I ticked off a finger, warming to the subject, ‘because the men are such drama queens on the pitch. Two,’ I ticked off a second finger, ‘the men are such drama queens on the pitch. Three, the women’s game is a bit slower so you can appreciate the skill levels; they don’t play dirty, they’re not always falling over and they don’t have enormous, oversized egos like the male players.
’ I shot him a satisfied smile. ‘Also, tickets are way cheaper. I’ve been to Arsenal ladies quite a few times at the Emirates Stadium. ’
‘Right,’ he said and smirked.