Chapter 3
FLAVIA
I’m so relieved when we land that I’m struggling not to hug anyone I can get my hands on, even Dominic. I’m just so extremely happy to be alive. Flying in an enormous, very heavy, metal tube high up in the sky is not natural.
Also, it’s been weird sitting next to Dominic and I’ll be glad to escape his presence. Being with him on this flight has been like going back in time, but in a weird way, as though I’ve been looking at the past through one of those distorted fairground mirrors.
A decade ago, I thought I’d fallen in love with him at what was essentially first sight, and for far too long had high hopes for some kind of miracle that would one day allow us to live in the same place at the same time and get together.
And now… well now I see that Dominic’s a very neat and tidy, good-looking man who’s really quite uptight about being surrounded by total silence on a plane so that he can work.
The same Dominic… but also really not the same.
And that’s the thing about love at first (or almost first) sight.
There is no such thing. Clearly you can meet someone and feel immediately in love and then if you’re very lucky get to know each other and discover that you really are compatible.
But you can’t actually know someone at first sight.
That immediate connection must really just be mutual physical attraction.
Dominic moves next to me in his seat as he (very precisely and tidily) places his laptop into its pristine (and very expensive-looking) black leather case. His thigh brushes mine for a second and my whole body pathetically reacts to the large solidity of his.
He whips his leg away from mine and I glance up at his face. He’s turned away from me, and all I see is his (very gorgeous) profile, topped by his sensible haircut, which I could easily not find attractive.
Which all exactly demonstrates my thoughts about attraction versus love. Yes, I’m physically attracted to him (despite the sensible hair), but, no, I am clearly not and never will be in love with him.
Overall, I really don’t like being around Dominic.
Physically I’m constantly on edge. And mentally I am too.
Like, from the moment I discovered we were on this trip together, I’ve been a little snippy with him.
He just annoys me. Possibly because I thought about him for so long and have now discovered that he hasn’t grown up into the man I would have imagined him to be in his mid-thirties.
And I don’t like being snippy. I’m basically never snippy.
It’s the effect Dominic has had on me. So I’m looking forward to getting off the plane and meeting the rest of the people in our tour group and feeling normal again.
I send Mum and Jenna texts saying that we’ve landed safely and I can’t wait to leave the airport and see Cape Town properly, look once again at Dominic’s perfect and slightly disapproving profile, and manoeuvre very hard to make sure that there’s another passenger between him and me as we disembark.
As I leave the plane, I find myself next to Judith, the reluctant flyer from the row behind. Now we’ve landed, she looks a lot happier.
‘I’m so sorry about my anxious waffling during the flight.’ She has a very nice smile. ‘It’s just that, even though I know all that statistic stuff, I still worry when I’m on the plane.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I agree. ‘I’m so glad to be on the ground again. Anyway. We’re here now, thank goodness. Are you spending long in Cape Town?’
‘I’m actually on an organised tour. A day here, then two days on safari, back for New Year, and then home. Whistle-stop.’
‘Oh, wow, sounds like we could be on the same trip.’ I hope so; I’ve immediately taken to Judith and her lovely, warm smile. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t work this out while we were still on the plane.’
We compare notes and, yes, we definitely are.
‘Are you on the trip alone or are you…?’ Judith looks over her shoulder at Dominic. ‘I wasn’t quite sure…?’
‘Yep, no. Dominic and I do know each other, kind of vaguely, but this wasn’t planned. We – very separately – won the trip as a prize in a raffle.’
‘My goodness. What an amazing prize.’
It’s lovely chatting to Judith and we continue talking all the way through baggage reclaim, during which time Dominic stands several metres away, glued to his phone.
I’ve almost forgotten he’s there, when, as I’m trying to heft my extremely heavy suitcase off the carousel, he surprises me by suddenly popping up and lifting it (effortlessly) off for me.
He lifts Judith’s off too, smiles briefly in response to our thanks, and returns to whatever’s engrossing him so much on his phone.
I’d have said the luggage-hefting was sexy if it hadn’t been accompanied by silence and a clear email-reading addiction.
I’m excited as we leave the terminal. I’ve never been to South Africa before, and can’t wait to explore, plus it’s lovely to feel sun on my face and arms after a fairly grey autumn and winter in London.
The three of us, plus a jolly, bearded man named Mike, are transferred to the hotel in a taxi. Others in the group are landing at slightly different times. Dominic takes the front passenger seat next to the driver and sits in near-silence next to him the whole way, while I talk to Judith and Mike.
There are other people checking into the hotel when we arrive, and Dominic and I will find it very easy not to chat much if we don’t want to, I realise. Perfect.
* * *
When it gets to my turn at the desk, the man behind reception – his name is Jonas according to his name badge – says, ‘Mr Rock?’ while peering in a puzzled fashion at the elderly man behind me after giving me my key card.
‘Mr Rock is the tall man with the brown hair at the back of the queue,’ I tell Jonas, before stepping aside and heading up to my room on the third floor.
It’s lovely, on a corner, with wonderful views over the waterfront, with the mountains to the sides, an enormous bed, way bigger than super king – you could fit a whole family in there – and, I discover, a separate sitting room and an extremely luxurious en-suite.
It’s all very modern – lots of marble, chrome and textured wood, but not intimidatingly so; it feels very welcoming. I love it.
As I gaze out of the windows, I feel a very strong pang for my parents and have to blink back tears.
Mum must have spent a fortune on this trip for her and Dad, one of the memories they decided to create every year after his recovery from the life-threatening pneumonia he had in his fifties.
I need to enjoy it to the full, in Dad’s memory and so that I can tell Mum how wonderful it was.
She’s thrown all her energies into her children and grandchildren this year, and has coped so well, and I want to do everything I can to make her happy, and just take advantage of this wonderful room, the wonderful location, the wonderful everything.
The first thing I’m going to take advantage of is the gigantic walk-in shower, because I feel very travel-grimy after the long flight.
I’m about to open my suitcase, when I hear the door click and begin to open.
I panic at first, but then remember I’m not in a horror film and that this will obviously be a hotel worker, not an undercover murderer.
I straighten up, making a mental note that I’d better lock the door before I actually get into the shower, only to see Dominic. Standing inside my room.
‘Flavia!’ What is he doing here?
‘Dominic! Why do you have a key to my room?’
‘No. Why are you in my room?’
We stand there for a long moment, him next to the door frowning, me with hands on hips next to the bed, also frowning, while we both digest the other’s words.
I recover first. Clearly, the hotel must currently think that we’re sharing this room. And clearly that is a mistake. Obviously it must be because this room was originally booked for my parents. It will be easy to rectify it. They can just give us separate, smaller rooms.
‘I’m calling reception.’ I grab the room phone off its handset and press the zero. ‘Hi, Jonas. How are you? I think there’s been a bit of confusion. Another guest and I have been given key cards to the same room, but we aren’t supposed to be sharing. We are not together. We are strangers.’
‘You and Mr Rock were booked in together,’ Jonas tells me. ‘You are supposed to be sharing.’
‘We can’t share. We need separate rooms. We’re both happy to move to smaller rooms so that a couple can share this suite.’
Jonas sighs audibly. ‘There are no other rooms. We’re fully booked. There is, however, a sofa bed in your sitting room, so one of you can take that if you wish.’
‘But there’s only one bathroom. We can’t share that. Surely you have a spare room somewhere.’
‘Unfortunately not.’
‘But we really can’t share.’
Jonas sighs again. ‘Would you like me to phone around and see if I can find a room in another hotel for one of you?’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
‘How utterly farcical,’ Dominic comments when the call ends.
And then we both just stand there and stare out of the windows.
‘Great view,’ I venture after a bit of awkward silence has passed.
‘Amazing,’ Dominic agrees.
And then we just stick to the awkward silence.
Which is really awkward. I think it’s rare for two adults who do know each other but are not very close to stand for a long time saying absolutely nothing.
I’m very conscious the entire time of the not-talking and being next to Dominic but also very distant from him. It’s weird.
I crack after a really, really long time, definitely several minutes, and say, ‘The combination of mountains and ocean is stunning.’
Dominic nods. ‘It’s a fantastic location.’
And then we’re back to the awkward silence.
Fortunately, Jonas is back on the phone within only about ten minutes (although that is a long, long time to be awkwardly silent; thank goodness we have a truly outstanding view to look at is all I can say).