Chapter 3
Three weeks later, Fen blinked as a Scotch egg encased in its cellophane wrapper came bouncing down the escalator towards her. Seriously, what were the odds when you were as big a fan of Scotch eggs as she was?
But no, only a bad person would snatch it up and keep it for themselves. She wasn’t that heartless.
Besides, she’d been seen.
‘Well held,’ shouted a male voice from the top of the escalator, as, having switched her carry-on case to her left hand, she caught the Scotch egg in her right. Waiting for her to reach him, he applauded her dexterity. ‘You saved my snack, and that makes you my hero.’
Sometimes you saw someone and instinctively liked them at first sight. He had unbrushed light brown hair, merry dark brown eyes and an engaging smile, and was wearing a stripy blue and white shirt with ancient blue jeans and trainers.
‘All in a morning’s work.’ Fen gently tossed the snack towards him, and watched in disbelief as he fumbled the catch.
‘Nooo!’ He clapped his hands to his head as it landed on the top step of the escalator and began to roll down all over again.
‘Hang on.’ Dropping his bag at her feet, he careered down the staircase running alongside the escalator and reached the ground floor just as the Scotch egg ricocheted off the side of an elderly woman’s wheelie case.
Retrieving it, he raced back up the stairs.
‘Not very well held,’ said Fen.
‘What can I say? I’m a klutz. But thank you.’
‘Some things are worth rescuing. Food of the gods. I might have to buy one for myself now.’
His face lit up. ‘A fellow gastronome, that’s what I like to see. Has your flight been called?’
‘Not yet. Why?’
‘This one’s still edible. If you want, we could share it.’
There was an offer to brighten any day. Disa had made herself at home in the airport’s private lounge and was currently reading the papers while enjoying a leisurely late breakfast. They weren’t due to board for another forty minutes.
And this funny, charming stranger was now waving his Scotch egg tantalisingly in front of her like a hypnotist. To entice her further, he said, ‘If it helps, I have a bottle of orange Fanta too.’
He knew how to win a girl over. Fen said, ‘In that case, how can I refuse?’
Leon was having possibly the best morning of his life; he’d met someone amazing and had instantly clicked with her.
Better still, she was showing every sign of liking him too.
And OK, this was an airport, so they were both heading off somewhere away from Bristol, but hopefully they’d both be returning before long and could meet up again.
He already knew he wanted this to happen.
Her name was Fenna – it was Dutch, apparently – but everyone called her Fen, and she had the kind of face he thought he’d never tire of looking at.
She was gorgeous, for a start, but not in an intimidating way.
Her curly blonde hair bounced around her shoulders, her skin was flawless and there was an adorable scattering of tiny freckles across her nose.
She also had long-lashed wide grey eyes and a mischievous mouth that was born to smile.
Best of all, she was funny. As far as Leon was concerned, anyone lacking a sense of humour held no attraction for him.
But Fenna – Fen – did, big time. Here they were, perching opposite each other on wildly uncomfortable high stools, and he’d never felt more at ease with a female in his life.
A bonus was that Jamie was safely out of the way in the private lounge, which meant Leon had her undivided attention.
If Jamie were sitting with them, she would be sneaking glances at him and finding him infinitely more fascinating as time went by.
Leon didn’t resent his friend for this, not one bit.
He was used to it by now. And it was hardly Jamie’s fault after all.
But today it was nice to be enjoying this time with Fen without worrying about the competition.
‘So here we are,’ he announced, ‘sharing an exceptional Scotch egg, and I haven’t even introduced myself properly yet. How rude.’ Solemnly he extended his hand across the table. ‘Leon Spencer-Carr.’
She shook it. ‘Very nice to meet you. Fen Madden.’
It was a good name. He wanted to know everything about her. ‘And do you live near here?’
‘I do. In Bristol. Off Whiteladies Road.’
His heart lifted; better and better. ‘I’m in Clifton. We’re practically neighbours.’
‘And this trip.’ Fen mimed a plane taking off. ‘Business or pleasure?’
‘Pleasure. A week in Venice.’
She spluttered with laughter. ‘You’re kidding. Me too.’
They stared at each other in delight. Leon experienced an adrenalin rush that made his skin tingle all over. ‘We’re staying on a small ship, cruising around the different islands and—’
‘OH MY GOD!’ Fen shouted, almost rocking back on her high stool. ‘La Violetta?’
On the one hand, this was amazing news. On the other, did that mean she was one of Jamie’s super-keen superfans? Because that wouldn’t be amazing at all. Feeling a bit sick, he said, ‘Keen on rugby, are you?’
She pulled a face. ‘Urgh, no. More of a tennis fan.’
That was something, at least.
Twenty minutes later, when they’d made their way to the private lounge – another coincidence – there was Jamie, chatting to a glamorous woman swathed in a cream pashmina while a member of staff topped up their drinks.
Shaking her head, Fen said, ‘Why am I not surprised? Time for you to meet my grandmother.’
‘Darling, there you are!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘We’re ahead of you. This is the young man whose boring talks about rugby we’ll be avoiding like the plague. But I’ve already told him, and he promises he doesn’t mind.’
‘Not a bit.’ Jamie grinned. ‘Although I should warn you, I won’t only be talking boringly about rugby; there’ll be other subjects too. You must be Fenna. I’ve been hearing all about you.’ Indicating Leon at her side, he went on, ‘And I guess you’ve probably been hearing a bit about me as well.’
Leon might appear calm on the outside, but inwardly he was bracing himself for Fen’s reaction to meeting Jamie. This was a situation he’d witnessed countless times over the years, and it had never bothered him before, but this time was different. It mattered.
‘Hi.’ Seemingly unfazed, Fen briefly shook Jamie’s hand. ‘Actually, all I know is that you and Leon share a flat. We’ve been too busy talking about other things.’
‘You have? Excellent. Like what?’ Jamie observed her with interest.
‘Orangina versus Tango.’ She shrugged as if it was obvious.
‘Tango.’
‘Sorry, you’re wrong.’
‘All the bones we’ve ever broken,’ Leon chimed in. He’d won that one, having broken a lot.
‘Men in socks and sandals.’ Fen grimaced. ‘Also, men in no socks and sandals.’
‘Tattoos, good and bad,’ said Leon.
‘Shoplifting,’ said Fen.
‘Monsters under the bed when we were little kids.’ Fen’s monster had been black with tentacles, while his had been green with fangs and hairy arms.
‘And of course,’ Fen concluded, ‘the surprising bounceability of particular brands of Scotch egg.’
‘This is getting the week off to an interesting start,’ Jamie remarked once they’d paid attention to the safety instructions and the plane had finished taxiing to the main runway in prepar-ation for take-off.
Leon checked his watch; no matter how many flights he’d taken over the years, it never failed to amaze him that in an hour or two you could land in another European country. ‘I know. We’ll be there by one.’
‘Not what I meant.’
‘What then?’
‘You and Fenna. You’re like that emoji with hearts for eyes.’
‘I’m not, am I?’ Leon felt his face heat up.
‘Just a bit.’
‘D’you think she noticed?’ He twisted in his seat and glanced back, checking that Fen and her grandmother were far enough behind them not to have heard.
Jamie shook his head. ‘You’re safe. It’s only because I know you so well.’
Leon lowered his voice anyway. ‘Do you think she likes me?’
‘I’d say it’s on the cards. Could be your lucky week. Who knows what might happen?’
What indeed? The engines began to roar now as the plane suddenly accelerated, the g-force pressing them back into their seats.
Watching the ground disappear beneath them as they took off, Leon tried to imagine what this coming holiday might hold if the sense of anticipation building inside him like a giant helium balloon didn’t get crushed along the way.
The last hour had been something of a revelation.
What if – for once in his life – nothing went wrong and everything went right?
Realising Jamie had said something, he leaned across. ‘What was that?’
‘You’ve got this. She seems great.’ Jamie gave his arm an encouraging nudge. ‘I think you should go for it.’