Chapter 2
So much for easy-going she thought an hour later, running her fingers through her hair, which, she already suspected, was almost standing on end.
Her clothes were covered in dust, and boxes scattered their contents across wooden floors.
Cupboard doors were left open. ‘This can’t be happening! ’ she screeched to nobody.
Her breathing was becoming erratic, and she forced herself to sit down. The last thing she needed was a panic attack, something she’d been certain she’d left behind when she exited her old career.
After Steven’s call she’d gone onto the website of the budget airline that they favoured for their trips to and from Limoges almost immediately. With Christmas less than three weeks away, she knew that tickets would be selling out fast. The last thing she wanted was to end up missing out.
And she was right. The only flight left was in two days’ time.
But what the hell. She’d have to cancel her art lesson, but it would be OK.
She only had one pupil after all. She’d fly back on the twenty-seventh, hopefully with Steven, and at least spend New Year here.
The best of both worlds. Filling in the details – no, she didn’t want additional luggage; no, she didn’t want priority boarding – she’d felt her mood lift.
But when she’d paid, and gone to fill in her passenger details, she’d been asked for her passport number. And that’s when the horror had started.
Because somehow, she’d mislaid the damn thing.
It hadn’t been in the folder with the rest of her documents – birth certificate, visa forms, house details.
It hadn’t been in the bag she always used on journeys.
And now she knew unequivocally it wasn’t in any of the boxes they’d yet to unpack. She’d rushed through them, scattering chaos in her wake.
It had vanished.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the glass of a cupboard, she tried again to force her breathing to slow. Tried to channel the New Nicola.
She had more than two weeks before the flight took place. No doubt she’d uncover the thing before then. The tickets were booked and she didn’t need to actually enter any more information online until a couple of days beforehand.
And of course, Steven would probably know, she reassured herself.
He’d had their passports when they flew over in the summer, and had probably tucked hers into a drawer she knew nothing about, or placed it before he’d left in a box she’d overlooked.
She made herself a cup of calming tea and left a message on his mobile asking him to call her when he was off shift later.
* * *
One thing she had learned about herself in recent years was that in these moments of panic, she needed to keep busy.
And there was plenty to do. Not only did she have to clear the debris from her frantic search, but there were new cobwebs to remove, firewood to chop and stack; and if she was desperate, she could even do a little more unpacking.
Feeling her heart rate slow, she got her phone and began to stream some Christmas music through her smart speaker. Despite everything, when the first bars of Ed Sheeran and Elton John hit her ears, she began to feel a slight fizz of Christmas magic run through her.
Although she’d sometimes despaired of her mother’s level of enthusiasm for the festive season, it was obviously something that had rubbed off on her a bit. Cosy winter nights, presents, family, treats, that unquantifiable spark that seems to alight in even the grumpiest heart – she was here for it.
By the time her phone rang, she was feeling at one with the world again. She’d hit the house hard for two hours and was feeling appropriately proud of herself. Now, she was sitting in her favourite armchair, feet up, cup of tea in hand. See? Easy-going.
‘Bonjour!’ she answered cheerily.
‘Hi, love. Everything OK? You sounded a bit frantic on your message.’
‘Yeah.’ She put her tea down on the small side table and sat forward. ‘Well, sort of. I had a bit of a crisis.’
‘Couldn’t book your ticket?’
‘No, it’s not that. I can’t find my passport. Not much good having tickets if they won’t let you on the plane.’ She let out a small sigh.
‘But you don’t need that for days!’
‘I know but… I’d just feel better having it. I really can’t find it, Steven. I’ve ripped the house apart looking.’
‘That doesn’t sound much like New Nicola behaviour.’
‘I know. I know.’ He was right, of course. Steven had always had the ability to calm her down.
‘But you’re OK?’
‘I’m OK.’
‘Good. Well done.’
‘Anyway, I didn’t call you to complain about it. I just thought you might know where it is.’
He laughed. ‘So you’re calling me to help you look for your passport, in a house I’m 600 miles away from?’
‘Well, yeah.’ She smiled at the ridiculousness of it. ‘Oh, come on, Steven, you know you’re the organised one. I just wondered if you’d put it somewhere special.’
‘What, like up the chimney? Or in a secret safe behind a painting?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Actually,’ he said, his voice light, ‘I did put it somewhere special. Well, not special. But I can tell you exactly where it is!’
‘See! I knew you would. You’re such a nerd,’ she teased.
‘A nerd who knows where your passport is.’
‘OK, so where’s the special place?’
‘You remember that folder I put all our travel documents in when we went over in the summer?’
‘Yeah. Of course. You were holding that thing like it was your firstborn.’
‘Well, it’s in there. I put all our travel stuff together. You know, so we wouldn’t lose it.’
‘Thank God.’ She felt a dip of relief in her chest. ‘So… where can I find this folder?’
‘It’s…’ he paused. ‘Oh.’
‘What? You’ve forgotten.’
Steven gave a sudden inward gasp. ‘Oh, bugger!’
‘What is it?’
‘Now don’t get mad.’
‘Steven?’
Another pause. ‘I’ve just realised… I mean, it didn’t seem important before and until today I…’
‘Steven…’
‘It’s here.’
‘What?’
He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘I’m so sorry, Nic. I put everything together to keep it safe. But I brought it back with me when I flew home last time. I didn’t think to sort it before. I’ve… your passport’s here.’
It was as if someone had taken the plug from the basin of her hope and the water had drained away. ‘It’s in England?’
‘Yeah.’
‘In Stu’s flat.’
‘Yup.’
‘Oh bloody hell, Steven!’ She felt a lurch in her chest.
‘I know. I know. Look, it was an accident. You’ll just have to book a flight a few days later instead… I’ll put it in the post!’
‘But it’s Christmas! Everything’s booked! This was literally the last flight with space.’
There was a silence. She knew from talking to her mum that the last posting date from England at this time of year had already passed. Yes, he could post it via some sort of special delivery, or even use a courier. But there was little chance it would arrive before the last available flight.
Steven spoke again, his voice quieter than before. ‘Shit, Nic. I’m so sorry.’
She felt her breath hot against the mouthpiece. But there was nothing to say.
‘I’ll post it anyway.’
‘There’s no point!’ She felt the hot moisture of tears sting her eyes.
‘But it might—’
‘Steven.’
‘I know. I know. I am so sorry.’
She took a deep breath. Thought of all the times that Steven had supported her when she’d been stressed; about the times he’d cheered her in the evenings when her job had been too much and she’d come home almost shaking with adrenaline.
How the move to France, although something they’d mutually decided, was more about her than him: about what she wanted; needed.
‘It’s fine.’ She forced herself to smile, hoping it came out in her voice.
‘Honestly. It’s just one of those things.
And you know, maybe it’ll be fun spending Christmas in France. Just me.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she lied.
‘You can indulge yourself. No King’s speech. Unless you want it.’
‘True.’
‘No Morecambe and Wise.’
‘Ah, they’re not so bad.’
‘None of your Mum’s endless board games!’
The idea of the family Christmas she’d only half wanted before now being snatched away was suddenly almost unbearable.
Mum’s insistence on an afternoon of puzzles and board games, of ‘family bonding’ that had often ended with overturned boards and arguments, had always been something she’d moaned about.
Now, with distance, it seemed idyllic and rose-tinted.
‘Yep. I’ll be fine. Honestly.’ She did her best to smile, hoping it came out in her voice.
But as she ended the call, she felt the darkness she was trying to rebrand as ‘cosy’ settle around her like a shroud. Christmas had been the only thing keeping her going. And now, it looked like she’d be spending it alone.