Chapter Ten
TEN
‘Oh, Arsey Alan, don’t be a tool all your life,’ I sigh dramatically as I find myself face to face with the check in person from hell, currently tutting over the weight of my suitcase.
Once more. Needless to say, I’m not in the best mood today.
Could it be down to the fact that this is now my fourth Monday in a row?
Yes, I’d say it could.
‘What did you just call me?’ Alan gasps.
‘Arsey Alan,’ I repeat, a new devil-may-care attitude running through my veins. Because really, what does it matter? ‘It’s what your colleague calls you. And by the way, eating someone else’s yoghurt and then putting the empty pot back in the fridge is not okay.’
Alan eyes me suspiciously.
‘Who have you been talking to?’
‘No one.’
‘Are you psychic?’
I suppose that is the best explanation.
‘Yes, I am.’ I bow my head. ‘And the spirits have told me all about your yoghurt-stealing habits. They aren’t happy, Arsey Alan. You must make amends.’
Alan looks surprisingly convinced by this.
‘Right. Okay, that makes sense,’ he says.
It does?
‘It’s my Great Aunt Gertrude, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘Great Aunt Gertrude, rest her soul, was always so good with advice when it came to romance. I’m lost without her. I mean, not lost, I’m obviously still hugely successful at getting laid. Just look at me.’
Alan stands up and twirls around as if to demonstrate his confirmed status as a prize catch. To me, the man looks uncannily like a potato but I do admire his self-esteem.
I spot Mel bustling over to the check-in counter a few desks along and I swear she gives Alan a longing look as she settles into her seat. Surely she can’t have a crush on the man who steals her yoghurts?
In return, Alan shoots her a furtive glance.
‘Will you tell Great Aunt Gertrude that I’m sorry, Nina Moss?
’ he’s saying, as he processes my passport and prints off my boarding pass.
‘She’d be so cross with the yoghurt-stealing thing.
I’m just really struggling. Usually I find it so easy, but with Mel …
’ He sighs. ‘It’s like she doesn’t even see me. I’m just invisible.’
‘So you’re eating her food to get attention?’ I baulk. ‘Oh Alan. There are definitely better ways to go about this, I’m telling you now.’
Alan is looking at me like I am a wise sage.
‘Yes,’ he says, processing my heavy bag without complaint. ‘You are right. Maybe I could put some yoghurts in the fridge for her, instead?’
‘Alan, I’m going to be bold and suggest that your plans for wooing Mel have absolutely nothing to do with yoghurts, going forward.’
‘Cheese, maybe? She does love a good brie.’
‘No food, full stop. Just talk to her! Be honest. You never know, she might feel the same.’ I mean, who knows why, I don’t add.
Alan nods along. ‘Actually, while you’re here and I obviously have a hotline through to the afterlife, could you do me a favour?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I admit.
‘Could you ask Great Aunt Gertrude for her bitcoin password, please? We bought some together and she wrote down the password and I cannot find it. I believe I’m worth billions, Nina Moss. Billions.’
He looks at me expectantly, as if I should be communicating with the afterlife immediately.
I scrunch my eyes shut and pretend to summon spirits. Shame on me.
‘Nope,’ I say after a full one second. ‘Not getting anything now. Sorry, the lines are a bit busy. Must be something to do with all the people here. Now look, find some emotional maturity and go talk to Mel, please.’
We both look over and she immediately looks away.
‘Okay, well, here’s my card just in case it comes to you,’ he says, handing over a business card. ‘Next!’
Well, that was odd, I think as I shuffle off.
Once through security I migrate towards the shops, trying hard not to smile at familiar faces when I remember that they are only familiar to me.
A sense of malaise is truly kicking in, and I’m ashamed to admit that I am slightly miffed not to have been upgraded for this flight.
After all, as far as Alan’s concerned, I am a clairvoyant in communication with his dead great aunt and he still didn’t upgrade me!
However, I must remember what happened yesterday, when confusion reigned.
I’m not here to fart about in fancy seats.
I’m here to break free, and that means that I have got to refocus my efforts on winning Hamish back today.
I need to perfect the seat swap again and this time, I can use my insider knowledge from the last time I sat next to Hamish to my advantage.
I set to work. First stop, Boots for some spray deodorant and Pro Plus, then it’s on to the departure gate way ahead of time to bag myself a seat swap.
So far, so successful.
I stare out of the windows at the vast plane that will be my home for the next thirteen hours, all smooth white curves and neat oval windows.
Little vans scurry to and fro dropping off luggage.
Further afield, other planes make their way towards the runway.
It’s daylight out there now, albeit only just, and clear blue skies stretch across the horizon.
I pace up and down, with time to kill before the rest of the passengers arrive at the gate. Experience dictates that I will be feeling extremely squashed after the next however many hours in the air, so sitting is no longer my friend.
While I walk, I think, and alarmingly, my mind turns to Callum.
The things he told me about his upbringing yesterday, on Monday Three, have been begging for a mull-over since he shot down my theory that he was the princessy one.
Hmm.
I have an uncomfortable feeling that he was right.
Thing is, I had no clue that Callum didn’t have it easy growing up.
It’s safe to say that when we first met, I jumped to some pretty big conclusions.
There he was, all suave and engaging with his shiny new job thanks to Auntie Kat and, well, I did not love it.
Maybe this says more about me than it does about him.
It’s possible that I’ve got the tiniest chip on my shoulder, isn’t it?
I’ve worked so hard to get where I am today, and I’ve had no leg-up from well-connected relatives, and honestly, I am proud of myself for that.
But in hindsight, it may have made me ever so slightly judgy about those who I deem not to have needed to work so hard.
Especially now I see that I got Callum all wrong.
Well, not all wrong. Obviously there are approximately ten thousand character flaws on that dude.
But the bit about him having a privileged upbringing when he really didn’t?
And the bit where it became clear that we in fact had a very similar start in life, with single mums working non-stop to keep us fed and warm?
I need to take some accountability and admit that I was wrong.
Urgh, who knew I’d have something big like this in common with Callum? Please excuse me while I vomit.
I’ve reached a bank of chairs and am spinning on my heels for yet another lap of the departure gate when I spot him making his way towards me in the midst of the gaggle of extremely handsy divorce partiers.
Our eyes meet and my stomach flips. This would all be so much easier if Callum looked like a cave-dwelling troll.
But no, I have chosen to lock horns with a dazzling vision of a human being, a man who knocks the air out of me just by existing.
It is deeply unfair that my body reacts to him like this.
I push that all down.
Today, I have got to make amends. Mostly because I did actually kill him yesterday (not my finest hour) and also because of all the judging.
Callum looks harangued and I seize the opportunity to go help him out, to prove that I can be the bigger person too. It’s a golden opportunity, I realize, bustling over to the group and making a show of how happy I am to see him.
‘Here you are,’ I coo, reaching up on my tiptoes to give him the lightest peck on the cheek. The flicker I felt when I first saw him bursts into such a big flame that I have to mentally douse myself in cold water.
‘My darling boyfriend!’ I add for good measure, giving Callum a go-with-it wink.
‘Ah yes,’ he says, cottoning on. ‘Hey.’
He nuzzles briefly into my neck and I am a burning inferno.
‘So glad you’re here,’ I add loudly for the divorce party’s benefit. ‘I can’t wait for our couple’s holiday to Australia as a couple.’
Callum cocks his head to one side, amused.
‘Me too.’
‘What with you being my boyfriend and all.’ I throw an arm around his torso for good measure, among an array of tuts and disappointed noises from the thirsty cougars.
‘I think they got the picture,’ he whispers as we sidle off to find some seats.
‘Do you?’ I ask, realizing that my arm is still wrapped around his waist and dropping it self-consciously.
‘You were very thorough, Moss. What’s brought this on?’
‘Oh, well, I’ve been thinking about you,’ I admit.
Callum leans back in his seat and gives me a penetrating look.
‘You have?’
My cheeks flush and I clear my throat. ‘Just, you know, deciding that I should make an effort. Kat wants us to get along, after all. And I suppose you’re not all bad.’
‘Praise indeed.’
‘Also it looked like they were about to eat you for breakfast.’ I shrug.
‘It felt a bit like that, too. Thank you, I appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I reply.
We share a befuddled look, both clearly confused by this entente cordiale.
‘I’m just going to …’ I trail off ineptly, pointing at my phone.
‘Yup,’ Callum looks relieved as he pops in his earbuds.
There’s an awkward moment as we board where I have to explain to Callum that we aren’t sitting together, only this time I have practice on my side and manage not to make a total hash of it. And as I plonk myself down next to Passenger Stink, I deploy plan number one.
Deodorize the heck out of him.