14. Chapter 14
14
I t was a little after nine on a Saturday morning. Tom thought of all the things he could be doing instead of elbowing his way through a crowded regional airport.
Number one: Sleeping.
Number two: Also sleeping.
Number three: Drinking coffee in bed, having just woken up from sleeping.
Instead, Katie had picked him up at 06:00, treated him to a medley of New Romantics and 80s British rock music at maximum volume all the way to the airport, and then announced she had forgotten to book parking until the last minute, so they were in the overflow car park a twenty-minute bus journey away. Their driver was a crazy-eyed man long past pensionable age who looked like he was one good therapy session away from confessing where the bodies were hidden.
‘I still can’t believe you haven’t been to a festival before,’ Katie said as they wound their way through security.
‘Doesn’t the Edinburgh Festival count?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Katie stopped rolling her suitcase and spun on her heel to face him. ‘Nor does any arts festival or a book festival. Or an accountant’s convention.’
‘But this thing we’re going to now isn’t what I thought a festival was. It’s not even in a field.’
‘It’s two days of music, drinking, and standing crammed together like sardines,’ Katie replied as they shuffled forward in the line. ‘Very festival-ish. Even though we’re only there for one day,’ she added.
Somewhere along the way, Katie had got around to mentioning that the festival he’d agreed to go to was not, as Tom had feared, in some muddy field in Hampshire, but in fact in Italy in some huge piazza.
The music festival was in Pisa. Katie had told him when, a few weeks ago, he had suggested he could drive them to the festival. His jaw had dropped.
‘You didn’t tell me it was abroad,’ he had said.
‘I was traumatised after your girlfriend stole my boyfriend,’ she had retorted. ‘It slipped my mind. Do you want a free trip to Italy or not? All you have to do is suffer through one bad Europop band long enough for us to get some photos and videos for social media for Ryan’s benefit. He’ll probably burst a blood vessel when he sees them.’ She grinned. ‘The rest of the time, we can stay at the festival or hang out in Pisa!’
Now, he threw his holdall easily over a broad shoulder as the queue moved again.
‘I’m a festival virgin.’
‘Wow,’ Katie said, mouth open. ‘Are you going to spend all day telling people you’re a virgin?’
The woman in front of them turned to see who the virgin was. Spotting Tom, her face lit up with surprise. He smiled at the woman, who blushed and turned away.
‘I have just never,’ he said to Katie, ‘seen the appeal of hanging around in a muddy field for two days with no privacy or showers, only to stand in a crowd, being elbowed by pissed people, and then, when the act finally comes on, it turns out you’d see better if you just watched a live stream on a big screen at home.’
‘It’s the atmosphere.’ Katie glowered over her shoulder, pulling out her little clear plastic bag of toiletries as they neared security.
‘The atmosphere of the unwashed masses and full Portaloos?’
A security guard with an unnecessarily wide stance and one finger hooked in his belt beckoned them forward.
Katie ignored Tom as she loaded her bag into a security scanner tray and slipped off her trainers under the watchful eye of the guard.
‘I can’t wait,’ she was saying, ‘to get some fantastic selfies of us there with the band and splash them all over Instagram. I can literally see Ryan’s nostrils flaring right now! He won’t know what to do with himself, he’ll be so pissed off. But he didn’t dare ask me outright for the tickets.’ She narrowed her eyes as Tom loaded his things into a plastic tray and took off his watch. ‘He tried to casually mention them when he picked his stuff up after the ruby wedding party, but I just shrugged and said I didn’t know where they were and probably wouldn’t bother going. His blood pressure got so high I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.’
They made it through security without incident, and Katie was striding off through the airport again, red hair in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she carved a path through fellow travellers.
He caught up with her when she stopped outside a shop. ‘Snacks for the plane,’ she said brightly, leaving Tom with her suitcase as she disappeared inside to emerge a few minutes later with a carrier bag of sweets and crisps. ‘I’m not eating that overpriced crap they sell you on the plane,’ she muttered.
‘Just the overpriced crap they flog in airports,’ Tom replied.
He eyeballed a neck pillow on a swivel stand in the doorway and then saw the price tag. No way, he’d rather be sleep-deprived.
There was no air conditioning in the boarding area, and people were sweating and red-faced. Those who had travelled long hours to even get to the airport were surreptitiously sniffing at their underarms to see how bad the situation was. They queued like sardines along with everyone else, shuffling forward until it was time to board, fanning themselves with wilting boarding passes.
The gates opened, and people started to amble forward. There was a soft cheer from up ahead as if the airline finally allowing people to board the flight they had waited for and paid for, deserved additional praise.
Climbing the metal staircase to the airplane, Katie’s curvy denim-clad bottom was directly in his eyeline as she sashayed up the steps ahead of him. He averted his gaze and watched the passengers at the rear end of the plane take their slow, painful steps towards their seat and their destination.
‘Welcome aboard Euro-Air,’ the hostess trilled as they finally reached the plane. ‘Have a great flight!’
Tom nodded and smiled as she batted heavily mascaraed lashes at him.
Katie was scanning the numbers and letters above the seats, ticket in hand. ‘Here,’ she suddenly stopped abruptly. ‘This is us.’
She heaved her bag up to lift it into the overhead locker. Her face was red, and her arms shook.
‘Give it here,’ Tom said softly, reaching his hands out.
‘I can do it,’ Katie muttered, trying to hold it steady and lift it at the same time. It wobbled dangerously to the left and lurched towards the balding scalp of an elderly man reading a copy of National Geographic.
‘Ooof,’ Katie gasped, fingers clutching at the edges of the case.
Tom reached out and took it from her before she caused anyone serious injury, sliding it into a spot in the locker that was above her head but at eye level for him.
‘Just because you can do things yourself, doesn’t mean you have to,’ he murmured, as she looked at him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, squeezing into their row. ‘You take the aisle seat. It’s better for you with your long legs.’
Tom shoved his holdall in the locker before sliding into the seat, nodding gratefully.
A buxom woman in a low-cut top stopped directly in front of Tom to give way to a harassed father coming the other way.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ the man puffed as he squeezed down the aisle, carrying a crying toddler. The buxom woman leaned forward into Tom’s seat to try to make room for the man to pass, her impressive cleavage level with Tom’s nose. He pressed back in his seat, his eyes firmly fixed on the air conditioner dials and call button above his head. Beside him, he could feel Katie shaking silently.
The woman moved on, and Tom drew a breath. Katie burst out laughing.
‘I have never,’ she gasped, ‘seen someone look so uncomfortable.’
Tom, feeling his face flaming, said, ‘I was trying to be a gentleman.’
He fanned his face with the well-worn emergency procedures booklet.
‘And you were,’ Katie, her face serious now, rested her hand on his arm. ‘Honestly, you did what you could, short of closing your eyes—which might have looked weird.’
Tom rubbed his eyes. ‘I think I dislocated an optical nerve trying to look up at the hostess call button.’
At last, everyone was on board. The crying toddler was placated with an iPad. A man two rows back was already snoring while his wife tried to shake him awake. ‘Simon. Simon! Shh! Shut up! Simon…’
The plane taxied for take-off, and Katie gripped his arm again.
‘We deserve this trip away,’ she whispered, fingers digging into his arm. ‘After what we’ve been put through. I can’t wait for drinks service—I am having a massive gin!’
The plane sped up, and they were pressed back in their seats as they took off.
It seemed Katie could wait for drinks service—she was asleep shortly after take-off. Her head lolled forward, and she started slipping towards an unsuspecting grey-haired lady at the other end of the row. Reaching across, Tom took her gently by the shoulders and guided her back in his direction. Her head fell softly onto his shoulder, her silken hair sliding down his arm.
From two rows back, the snoring continued, with the occasional pause, before restarting with a gasp and splutter. In the seat in front of him, a woman sniffed incessantly and periodically descended into a coughing fit that she smothered in the pages of the book she was reading.
A boy of about eight years old seated across the aisle from him stared at him unblinking as he shovelled Maltesers into his mouth and breathed heavily through his nose. Tom had never seen someone eat chocolate in such a threatening way.
The drinks trolley eventually cranked into view down at the end of the plane. Katie was breathing softly, her cheek pressed into his shoulder. He looked down at the gleaming red head, her hair fanned out across her face, hanging forward. He raised his right hand and gently stroked it back from her face, looping it behind her ear. It felt like silk, slipping through his fingers.
He swallowed and mentally shook himself, trying to ignore the feeling of her pressed along his arm. It had barely been a couple of months since he’d knocked on the door of Melissa’s house to find her there with Ryan. Yet here he was, finding himself dwelling on Katie, the way she looked in those jeans, the silken fall of her hair, the brush of her breath down his arm as she slept on his shoulder.
He tore his eyes away and glanced back at the Maltesers-boy and his chocolate-streaked face. The boy stared back, unblinking.
The trolley rattled into reach. ‘Any drinks? Any snacks?’ the hostess intoned, as she approached. ‘Any drinks? Any snacks?’
‘Yes, please,’ Tom said, hoping a beer would take the edge of his thinking.
The hostess rammed the breaks onto the trolley.
‘Uh, one gin and tonic,’ he said.
Katie slept on.
As the hostess started opening metal drawers and gathering plastic cups, Tom tried to wake Katie.
‘Katie,’ he whispered softly. No response. He picked up her hand, which was lying on her lap, and squeezed it. ‘Katie, I’ve got you a gin and tonic.’
As if hearing the magic words, Katie gave a sleepy groan before her eyes blearily opened and she tried to focus.
She lifted her hand and glanced down at Tom’s shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ she said, sitting upright. She dusted at the imaginary mess on his shoulder. She blinked sleepily at him. ’Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she straightened her jumper.
‘It’s okay,’ Tom said easily. ‘Not like I was going anywhere. You still want gin or is coffee better?’
The hostess, hearing the possible change in order, pursed her lips, cocked an eyebrow at Katie, and paused in taking the lid off the tonic.
‘Oh no, gin, please,’ Katie said, happily collecting the mini bottles and cup from the hostess’s outstretched hands. ‘We’re on holiday!’ she said with a grin.
‘And for you, sir?’ The hostess said with a wide smile, leaning down to Tom.
‘Just a beer, thanks.’
‘Of course, sir,’ the hostess said. ‘There you are, sir,’ she said, gently placing the drink on his folded tray table, neatly arranging the items, and turning the bottle so the label was facing him.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ she murmured.
‘Um, no, that’s all thanks.’ The hostess tapped numbers into the card reader and Tom swiped his debit card.
‘Excuse me,’ Katie raised her hand, trying to get the hostess’s attention. ‘Could I have a napkin, please?’
The hostess’s lips pursed as she dug into the trolley and fished out a napkin. She handed it to Tom with a smile, and he passed it along to Katie.
‘Thanks,’ Katie mumbled beside him.
‘Have a great flight,’ the hostess said to Tom with a smile, her hand grazing his shoulder as she reluctantly moved back into the aisle to manoeuvre the trolley.
‘For god’s sake,’ Katie muttered, as the trolley clanked off deeper into the plane, the refrain of ‘Any drinks? Any snacks?’ fading behind them.
‘What? Is the drink no good?’
Katie took a big sip. ‘Ahhh, nope,’ she added more gin to the glass. ‘The drink is great, thank you. I mean, you have no idea, do you?’
Tom looked at her, puzzled.
‘No idea about what? I thought you wanted gin?’
‘I’m not talking about drinks.’
‘Katie, translate for me, please. What are you talking about?’
‘You are to accountants what Indiana Jones is to archaeologists.’
Tom looked puzzled. ‘I’m not off trying to find some ancient year-end accounts buried in a jungle.’
Katie rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, no one expects archaeologists to look like Harrison Ford. And no one expects accountants to look like…’ she ran her hand in his general direction, ‘this.’
‘Oh. I see.’ He nodded and looked at her through lowered lashes. ‘Mama likes what she sees, does she?’
‘Jesus, Tom. You really can’t pull that off. Please don’t talk like that. Was that supposed to be an American accent?’
Tom tried to recover ground. ‘When you look like this, you can get away with—’
‘Nope,’ Katie held her hands up to stop him. ‘You’ve lost me. You’ve literally drained yourself of any hotness by talking like that.’
‘Ahha, so you’re saying I’m hot then?’
The grey-haired woman on the other side of Katie shook her head slightly as she slowly turned the page of her magazine.
Katie sighed. ‘Men always underestimate how attractive women find modesty.’
‘I’m confused now. Are you saying I am attractive? Or I am not? Or, I am attractive but only until I speak? That’s just downright mean.’
‘Okay.’ Katie put her gin and tonic in the little cup holder on the tray. ‘You are attractive, but it’s sexier when you don’t talk about it.’
‘You brought it up!’
‘Which I now deeply regret,’ she hissed, ‘and will never do again.’
Tom huffed and reached for his beer. Katie sipped her gin and tonic.
‘Last question,’ Tom said, lowering his voice and dropping his head towards Katie. ‘Do you think I am attractive, or are you speaking purely objectively?’
Katie went still, one hand on her little plastic glass on the tray.
‘Why do you ask?’ she said in a quiet voice, her head turning slightly towards his, her eyes flicking up. ‘Do you want me to think you’re attractive?’
Tom felt her breath fan his face as she asked this. He momentarily lost focus as he stared into those huge hazel eyes gazing up at him from under dark lashes. He swallowed and managed a slight shrug. ‘I’m just doing a survey, for a friend.’
Katie sipped her drink. ‘I can see that you’re attractive, Tom, but I am not attracted to you.’
‘Same,’ Tom said, sitting back into his seat, a wedge of disappointment settling into his stomach.
‘What?’
‘I’m not attracted to you, either,’ he said.
He got the words out, but they felt hollow.
‘What do you mean? I never asked.’
‘Okay. That’s fine then.’
Katie went quiet for a moment.
‘Wait.’ Katie brushed his hand with hers, and he resisted a sudden urge to open his hand and take her fingers in his. ‘So, are you saying I’m not attractive—’
The woman on the other side of Katie let out an audible sigh and started fanning herself with her magazine.
‘Or you just aren’t attracted to me?’
Tom glanced at her, not allowing himself to look for longer than a moment. The sun was coming through the plane window, making her hair look like it was on fire. He could feel the warmth of her skin where her arm rested against his on the armrest and her eyes on him as she angled towards him, her face questioning.
‘Why do you ask?’ he parried, the banter acting as a shield all of a sudden. ‘Do you want me to think you’re attractive?’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’
Katie downed the rest of her gin.
‘I’m excited about this festival,’ Tom said, stretching in his seat as best he could. ‘I think we’re going to have some fun.’