Chapter 4
DOMINIC
I’m nearly forty-five minutes early for meeting the rest of the group in the hotel lobby. Not a surprise: I showered extremely fast, before almost sprinting out of the room and coming straight down here.
I should really get a grip on myself. There was no good reason for me to dash away from Flavia like that.
It just all felt a bit odd in the moment. Which it shouldn’t. We are not, in fact, sharing a room. We have separate bedrooms and are only sharing a bathroom. There shouldn’t be anything odd about that.
I’m going to go for a walk, I decide. I’d really like to stretch my legs after the long flight, plus I don’t want to be sitting alone in the foyer when Flavia arrives.
And there I go again. There is actually no reason that I can’t talk to her.
The thing is, she’s driving me insane.
Literally.
I mean, I put my hands all over my bed to stop her sleeping in it. Like a toddler, as she correctly pointed out. And I can’t help continuously noticing how very beautiful – sexy – she is. I don’t want to notice that.
When we were young, I imagined that if we’d been in the same place at the same time we could have – would have – made a great couple.
I genuinely thought that we could have been together forever.
Now I know that was utter nonsense: I destroy relationships.
As do all my older siblings: seven divorces between the three of them and two of them aren’t even in their forties yet.
At least I’m not as stupidly over-optimistic as the others; I don’t bother getting married in the first place, because I know it wouldn’t work.
So, since I would never want to upset her – she’s clearly a nice person – and I would also never want awkwardness between her family and mine, it’s fortunate that we were never in the same place at the same time for long when we were young.
In some ways, I’m actually pleased to see her now and lay to rest the ghosts of that slight residual feeling of the one that got away.
We were fated not to be in the same place at the same time, and fate did a good job there.
I should really take spending time with her on this trip as a positive.
While she is, of course, still beautiful, I now know that physical attraction counts for very little, and so far it seems that we don’t have a huge amount in common beyond that, so we were clearly not in fact ever meant to be. And that is good knowledge to have.
* * *
It’s obviously very pleasant strolling outside the hotel.
When I agreed to come on the trip, I read up on Cape Town, so I knew before I got here that Table Mountain isn’t – as I thought beforehand – a one-off, but that the city’s surrounded by mountains; but until you’re actually seeing it with your own eyes, you don’t appreciate quite how beautiful the city is architecturally and what a varied outlook there is, with the ocean and mountain backdrop.
It’s great, actually, to have the opportunity to have a change of scene, especially to such a glorious destination, catch a little winter sun, and of course go on the safari tomorrow.
I make sure that I’m back in the hotel in good time – I really don’t like being late for things or keeping people waiting – and join the rest of the group as they begin to trickle into the foyer.
Eventually, all except one of us are assembled. It’s no surprise to me that that one is Flavia. I feel that chaos and lateness must surely go hand in hand.
While we wait for her, we introduce ourselves to each other.
I’ve already met Judith and Mike, on the flight and in the taxi.
The other eight members of the group vary in age and nationality, but all seem to be very friendly, which I’m sure will make the next few days more enjoyable.
I have a busy life and have no desire to make any new close friends on this trip, but it’s clearly always nice when a group feels cohesive.
We make small talk for a few minutes and then, just as Maxim, our guide, starts making noises about calling to chase ‘the final member of our group’, Flavia erupts into the foyer from the direction of the stairs, all flailing limbs, dark curls floating madly around her head and seemingly random items spilling out of the large, gold shoulder bag she’s carrying.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she says breathlessly. ‘I nodded off for a moment and was nearly late.’
Nearly late? I resist the urge to look at my watch, and instead smile blandly, as Flavia hugs Judith (I mean, really? How long is it since they last saw each other?) and shares smiles with the other members of the group.
Maxim tells us that we’re going for brunch now, to a very popular waterfront café, and then up Table Mountain.
During the short stroll to the café, Flavia walks between Judith and another woman, Charlotte, and is immediately deep in conversation with them.
I’m weirdly disappointed that I’m not walking with her, which I think is because, now that I’ve realised that it’s good to get this closure on the remaining we-were-good-together memory I had of her, I want to speak to her a little more in order to consolidate that feeling.
It’s fine, though, obviously. I’ll have many other opportunities to talk to her over the next few days, and Charlotte’s husband, Kris, and a quiet man called Alex, who I’m walking with, are pleasant company.
Maxim – who seems to have this trip organised to within an inch of its life, no bad thing – has a table plan for us in the café.
‘We want you all to leave this experience with new friends, but we also recognise that some people take a little time to feel comfortable with others, so for this meal we’ve seated travel companions together,’ he tells us.
Flavia and I, having been sent on this trip together, are therefore seated next to each other. Having realised that it’s actually a good thing to see each other now, to put paid to any residual feelings of attraction we might once have shared, I’m pleased.
As we all begin to speak to our neighbours at the table, Maxim interrupts us, with a lot more instructions for us.
Just as I’m reflecting that, while good-intentioned, he’s fairly pompous, Flavia whispers to me, ‘He is so sweet. It’s so lovely that he’s so keen for us all to have such a good time. I feel like we’re going to get a little irritated, though, by all the rules.’
‘No bad thing to have rules in place when you’re herding twelve people around,’ I point out. ‘As long as they’re reasonable. Sweet, though? Really?’
Flavia shakes her head. ‘Sweet, yes. Rules, no.’
‘Agree to differ,’ I say, not agreeing at all.
Maxim had already taken our orders, when we were gathered in the hotel foyer, and messaged them through, to prevent delay, and our food arrives quickly.
I’ve ordered steak with a quinoa salad. Flavia has ordered a pile of American-style pancakes with a berry compote and a lot of cream, all slathered in maple syrup.
‘I see you staring at my pancakes,’ she says complacently when her plate is placed in front of her. ‘Clearly jealous.’
I say nothing. I am so far from jealous. I like steak and salad. I don’t want to eat heart-attack-on-a-plate food. I don’t want to be rude, though.
She plunges her spoon into the pile and takes her first mouthful.
I find myself unable to take my eyes off the way she delicately licks a little bit of cream off her lower lip, before closing her eyes briefly in appreciation of her food.
I’m almost shaking my head at myself; it’s ridiculous to find the way someone eats so…
I don’t know, sensual. She’s just a woman.
Digging into a stupidly large pile of pancakes.
‘Mmm,’ she says throatily. The sound of her voice somehow hits me right in the stomach. I give myself a metaphorical slap – I seem to have lost my mind – and pile steak, salad leaves, tomato slices and quinoa onto my fork. Hopefully eating my own meal will help me recover my sanity.
‘This is good,’ she tells me. ‘Would you like some?’ She’s obviously going to have a lot to spare; very few people could finish a dish as big as that.
‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say, with zero hesitation.
‘Honestly, I don’t mind.’ She looks as though she’s about to start spooning some of her pancakes onto my plate.
‘That’s very kind, but, really, I’m more of a savoury meal person.’
She raises her eyebrows slightly, as though she considers me a little crazy, but just nods, and takes another mouthful.
I turn my attention to my own plate, because watching her eat is just making me feel…
well, odd. Which I cannot understand, because people eat in front of each other all the time, and it really isn’t comment-worthy.
When she’s swallowed, Flavia says, ‘So far, I’m loving everything about Cape Town. What about you?’ She’s giving me the impression that she is not good with silences.
‘Yeah, it’s great. The scenery, the hotel, this café, the itinerary. All good.’
‘Yes, all amazing. Especially the mountains, because they’re so unexpected.
I wasn’t really paying that much attention when we were in the cab.
’ She talked a lot to Judith and Mike during that journey; I’m not surprised she didn’t have time to look out of the window.
‘I saw them properly for the first time from the hotel window and was just stunned. I thought there was only Table Mountain.’
‘No time to read up on it before we left?’ I reload my fork. ‘Not surprising, I suppose. We found out about the trip at such short notice.’
‘I never read up on places before I go. I like to be surprised. Like I was this time.’
‘So… you never plan activities before you go anywhere?’ I try – and fail – to imagine enjoying a holiday I hadn’t prepared for in advance.
‘Nope. I mean, yes, sometimes. But, no, not really. I feel like life’s too short.’
‘What it the popular stuff’s all booked up, though?’ I ask, perplexed. ‘Say you were in Paris. The Louvre. You have to book that in advance.’