Warren had left for work and even though he wasn’t there, Esme still crept around the flat as she packed her suitcase. She could sense the impending explosion of anger already, and even though she’d be miles away and out of reach when it erupted, the idea of what it might look like still had her stomach twisted into anxious knots. Outside the street was grey, heavy with clouds that blocked the winter sun. Not that she could see much of it from the tiny bedroom window. It might be a white Christmas, Matilda’s favourite DJ had said on the radio that morning, but didn’t they say that every year? It hardly ever hit just right. In Lapland it was guaranteed. She’d put this to Warren in one last attempt to get him to agree to the trip, but he’d just laughed out loud and then turned up the volume on the TV. He’d never imagined she’d go alone. She hadn’t even imagined it until last night.

When the cab for the airport arrived outside and the driver sounded his horn, Esme jumped, her instincts hurrying her to the window to shush him even though Warren wasn’t there. The note she’d scribbled for Warren was a product of her chaotic thoughts – written in an unsteady hand, littered with mistakes and vague apologies for things she hadn’t even done and things she would never do. She was still in shock herself, a decision made so quickly that she hadn’t even managed to tell her parents about it yet. A quick phone call to them was another job she’d have to do once she landed in Lapland. At least she’d be able to talk to them without feeling the guilt like a boulder around her neck.

Esme hadn’t decided that she was never coming back to the flat but, perhaps, in a way she had. The final thing she’d done was leave the carefully cut hair extensions in a drawer in the bedroom and she’d never felt freer in her life as she shook her neat hair out, hair that was now all natural and all hers.

By the time Warren got home she’d be thousands of miles away, and Esme didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified. One thing she did know, Matilda would have been proud.

---

Zach had posted in the Facebook group that morning and Esme sat in the cab now reading it, her hands so numb and unsteady she could barely feel the phone in them. It was hard to know what was scarier – the thought of what she’d just done or what she was about to do.

---

---

It looked as if neither Hortense nor Brian had seen the message yet – certainly neither of them had commented and they usually did – and Esme didn’t know whether she ought to respond. A simple ‘like’ was a bit noncommittal but anything more obliged her to join Zach when she still didn’t know how she felt about that. So she did nothing, only read the post again and made a mental note to look for Costa once she’d checked in her baggage and try to get a good look at him before she decided. If Zach in the flesh looked like an axe murderer she could steer well clear and hopefully he’d be none the wiser.

She reached down into her bag and ran her fingers against the thick edges of her granddad’s old tickets and the wedding photo and then zipped it up again, satisfied that she had the most important things with her.

---

Once Esme had got through to departures, the little city of glitzy shops designed to rob you of your holiday money before you’d even got as far as the gates were strangely hard to resist, even though she needed none of the things they sold. And in one of them she caught sight of a lady, who looked very much like Hortense’s Facebook photo, being doused in a cloud of cloying scent by an overenthusiastic sales assistant. Nobody had ever looked less like the sort of person who’d be interested in perfume than this woman (if indeed it was Hortense), with her square little glasses and stout boots and a thick winter coat. And yet she’d been drawn into the shop, answering the siren call that all flyers trapped in the airport inevitably answered, and now she couldn’t escape, even though she looked desperate to.

With no thought for her own safety, Esme went in.

‘Hi…’ She tapped the customer on the shoulder. ‘Sorry to interrupt but—’

‘Esme Greenwood!’ the woman cried, pulling her into a surprising hug. ‘I’d recognise you anywhere – you really do look remarkably like your online photo!’

‘Hortense?’ Esme asked.

‘The same! How the devil are you? Got here alright? I’m so happy you’re here! I was beginning to think I’d be the only girl playing with the boys, so to speak. Not that I couldn’t handle it, of course, but it’s lovely to have some female company too.’

Hortense began to lead her away, Esme representing a welcome distraction. She lowered her voice as they went, sending a surreptitious glance towards the sales assistant who watched them go, frowning in disapproval.

‘Seventy pounds for that bottle of perfume! I would have bought it too and I didn’t even like it!’

Esme smiled. ‘I know what you mean. They have a way of making you feel obliged to buy whatever it is they’re selling.’

‘It’s some sort of voodoo magic if you ask me. Anyway perhaps we should scoot along to the coffee shop to see if young Zachary is there? At least that will force me to stay out of the way of seventy pounds of temptation!’

Esme nodded agreement. ‘I suppose we ought to.’

‘Splendid!’ Hortense looped her arm around Esme’s and pulled her close. ‘Don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, angling her head at the contact. ‘I wobble terribly when I walk – something to do with my inner ear. It’s giving me the devil today. It helps to lean on someone.’

‘Oh. Well, that’s OK.’

‘Not that I often hang onto complete strangers, of course, but I think we’re friends already, aren’t we?’

‘I guess we soon will be if we’re not already.’

‘Considering we’re already travelling companions,’ Hortense continued.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a shame we couldn’t have been a little more forward thinking from the start – we could have shared a bedroom and saved lots of money.’

‘I didn’t book to come alone originally.’

‘No? Really?’ Hortense tapped the side of her nose. ‘A chap, was it? Let you down? Decided to stick it to him by coming without him?’

‘No, my… someone who was coming with me couldn’t. Not a man – nothing like that.’

‘Quite right – none of my business, of course. Well, their loss is my gain, eh? We’ll be just dandy together, won’t we? Now, if we can find the rest of our group we’ll be tickety-boo.’

‘Perhaps Brian has already met up with Zach.’

‘Now, there’s a thought. Shall we toddle along and see?’

Esme nodded, though she had a feeling she’d have had very little choice in the matter even if she hadn’t wanted to toddle along anywhere.

Hortense wobbled and gripped Esme’s arm with a chuckle. ‘See, there I go! Must take more water with that whisky, eh?’

‘Is it a problem? I mean, does it cause you a lot of issues?’

‘I’ve fallen over more times than I can count.’ Hortense patted a hip. ‘That’s why I grew all this padding. It’s not fat, you see, it’s so I can bounce; no broken bones anymore!’ She gave Esme a sideways look. ‘If I were skinny like you I’d be smashed to smithereens the times I’ve fallen down the stairs at home.’

‘Don’t you have… like… I don’t know… like disabled status or something?’

‘Oh Lord, no! I couldn’t be bothered with all that and no doubt those government assessors wouldn’t look twice at me anyway. I’m perfectly mobile. It’s just that my steering is shot.’

‘But they’d have to give you some disability help if it affects your day-to-day living, wouldn’t they? Benefits or equipment or something?’

‘My dear child, people with genuine disabilities are being sent packing – you see it every day on the news. Mine’s an inconvenient trifle. Most of the time I manage perfectly well with a helping hand and you’re doing a marvellous job of that right now.’

Esme wondered vaguely how on earth Hortense was going to manage on snow and ice in Lapland if she couldn’t manage on solid ground but she thought better of saying so. She assumed Hortense must have considered it at some point and decided it wasn’t an issue.

Hortense hardly took a breath as she talked… and talked… and talked… and as the coffee shop appeared in front of them, Esme realised that although Hortense hadn’t shut up the whole time she hadn’t really said anything at all – at least, nothing of consequence.

‘You must forgive me,’ Hortense said, seeming to read Esme’s thoughts. ‘I’m alone at home and I take full advantage when I have the opportunity for a little social interaction. I’m not looking for the pity violins, of course, but I simply miss having someone in the house to talk to.’

‘You live alone?’

‘I looked after my mother for years, and by the time she died I was too old and spinsterly to go about getting a man.’

‘What was the matter with your mum?’

‘No idea,’ Hortense said briskly. ‘She just always seemed to want something or other. Barely put a toe out of bed during her last few years.’

‘Oh… and your dad… I mean, did he die?’

‘Oh dear Lord, no! Mummy threw him out – just like that. Some trifling affair but she had a temper like a sunburnt boar on her. Last I heard he was in Patagonia… Papua New Guinea…? Somewhere frightfully exotic and beginning with the letter P at any rate. I expect he breathed his last there too but I never heard about it.’

Esme tried to form a reply but what could she say to that?

‘Ah!’ Hortense exclaimed, nudging Esme. ‘Looks like the eagle has landed. Two rather handsome eagles, in fact!’

Sitting at a table, engaged in easy conversation, Esme recognised Zach and Brian. Except that Brian had clearly been carefully selective of his online photo to show a rather more flattering version of himself that had to be at least ten years out of date, while Zach’s had done him a grave disservice. In fact, Esme couldn’t help a double take. It was the Zach she recognised from his online profile photo but about twenty times hotter. His dark hair, while flecked with the odd strand of grey, was thick and wavy, and his grey-blue eyes seemed to smile even when he didn’t, and although his full mouth had a natural crookedness to it, something about that imperfection was perfectly adorable. It was hard to tell as he sat at the table but Esme would have bet a decent amount of money that he was tall too, and he filled his soft cotton shirt well.

‘How lovely to see you at last!’ Hortense called from across the coffee shop, and at least a dozen confused faces looked up from their own tables as Hortense trotted through them now, dragging Esme behind rather than leaning on her for support. Evidently, being excited meant she could walk without mishap.

Both Zach and Brian looked up at the same time and broke into broad smiles.

‘We were just debating whether you two would come,’ Brian said in a gruff voice with a northern accent that was hard to place. It could have been somewhere around Tyneside, and Esme resolved to ask when she knew him better.

‘Dear boy, wild horses wouldn’t keep us away,’ Hortense said. ‘Would they, Esme?’ She patted her arm, smiling broadly at the assembled party as if she’d never been so overjoyed to see anyone in her life. ‘Esme and I bumped into one another in the duty free,’ she continued. ‘I’d say she rather saved my bacon. Do you know how much the perfume that I almost bought was?’

‘How much?’ Zach asked.

‘Hideously expensive!’ Hortense cried. ‘Really too much. I honestly don’t know how these people justify it! A bit of dead old flowers and deer sweat and they want seventy pounds for it!’

‘They don’t need to justify it,’ Zach said, shooting Esme a conspiratorial smile. It looked like he’d got the measure of Hortense already. ‘Their brand is enough justification as far as they’re concerned – it’s all about conspicuous consumption, isn’t it? Would you like something to drink?’ he asked, gesturing for the newcomers to sit.

‘I’ll get them …’ Esme began, but he waved away the offer.

‘Honestly, it’d be my pleasure. I’m getting a fresh one anyway and we have a good hour before boarding.’

Esme relaxed into a smile. ‘In that case a flat white would be lovely, thank you.’

‘Black coffee for me,’ Hortense said. ‘The blacker the better. If it’s so black light can’t escape, that’s perfect.’

Brian added a request to the order and Zach got up. Esme stood up too.

‘I’ll come and help you carry it all back to the table,’ she said.

‘Right, that’d be good – thanks.’

They left Hortense making herself comfortable with Brian and went to join the queue at the counter. Esme glanced back and could see them engaged in conversation now, getting to know each other, she supposed.

‘I think Hortense is going to be a handful,’ Zach said in a low voice.

Esme turned to him. ‘I’m glad you’ve said it. She’s absolutely lovely but a bit…’

‘Full on?’

‘I suppose so. But then it’s better than being moody and miserable.’

‘I don’t doubt she’s going to be hilarious but I think we might well need another holiday when we get home to recover from this one. Brian seems like a top bloke too. I’m glad you decided to come,’ he added, pulling her back from her thoughts.

‘I thought I ought to in the end.’

‘But you weren’t sure?’

Esme shook her head. ‘I’ve never travelled alone before. I don’t know what’s been scarier – deciding to do the holiday alone or deciding to meet you guys instead.’

‘And do you feel you’ve made the right choice?’ His eyes were gently teasing, as if he was about to share the punchline of the best joke in the world.

Esme smiled at him. ‘I hope so. Yes – I think so. I could hardly say anything else to you, could I? It’d be a great way to offend you before we’d even got on the plane.’

‘It’d take a lot more than that to offend me.’ He sunk his hands into his pockets and smiled down at her. Now that she was standing next to him she realised that her hunch had been right – he really was quite tall. A comforting sort of tall.

Around them china clinked on china and metal on metal and the low hum of conversation was overlaid by the sounds of the baristas shouting orders at each other and the coffee machines chugging and hissing. The air was spicy and warm and rich and sweet. It could have been a coffee shop in any town, apart from the televisions hanging from the walls listing the departures of various flights and the broad windows showing the runway where planes taxied to and fro. It was hot too, compared to the brisk wind outside the airport terminal, and Esme wished she’d taken off her coat before coming to the counter with Zach as her cheeks blazed. She wanted to ask why he was travelling alone. Did it mean he had no one? It seemed so unlikely talking to him now – so open, so agreeable. Not to mention handsome, although Esme was trying hard not to notice that aspect and her guilty thoughts quickly turned back to Warren, at his desk working hard and completely oblivious – for now – of her betrayal. It didn’t feel quite like that to her, but in light of the conversations they’d had about this trip it was the way he’d see it once he discovered she’d gone anyway. So much for compromise, she thought wryly. She’d failed spectacularly there.

‘Flat white you said?’

Zach’s innocent question wrenched her back from the whirlpool of guilt she was about to get sucked into.

‘Please. And Hortense’s was black.’

‘Yes, how could I forget that?’ He grinned.

He repeated the order to the barista who nodded and took payment before flitting off to prepare everything.

Zach leaned against the counter. ‘I love the smell of fresh-ground coffee, don’t you? I think if I lost my sense of smell then the smell of coffee would be the thing I’d miss most.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘I must have about ten gallons a day when I’m working. I don’t suppose it’s doing me much good but I generally run out of adrenaline by ten in the morning so it has to be good strong coffee.’

‘What do you do?’

‘Theatre producer.’

Esme smiled. ‘Wow! So you must meet loads of famous people?’

‘It’s not quite that glamorous,’ he said with a soft laugh. ‘It’s more small-scale productions, niche stuff, provincial theatres, nationwide tours – that sort of thing. I’m hardly Cameron Mackintosh.’

‘Still, it must be quite exciting.’

‘It keeps you on your toes, that’s for sure. And you do get a massive sense of pride when you finally see a production come together – that feeling never gets old. I must love it, but sometimes when I’m phoning people at one in the morning because some huge disaster has befallen us the day before opening night I have to wonder if I’m sane.’

‘I’d love to do something like that.’

‘What do you do?’

‘Nothing right now. I’m between careers. Which means I don’t know which minimum wage job I’m going to get next.’

‘Oh. I suppose that might be quite worrying?’

Esme’s mind went to all the other, far more pressing issues in her life right now, and she shook her head. ‘It should be, but right now I’m not stressing about it. I’m sure I’ll get something soon.’

‘The philosophical approach. I generally find it’s the best one to adopt. Enjoy your holiday and then worry about job hunting.’

‘That’s exactly what I intend to do.’

He folded his arms and regarded her with what appeared to be some amusement. ‘Do you feel like running off yet?’

‘Running off?’

‘From here. Us lot. I only ask because this is probably your last chance – once we’re on that plane together I reckon you’re stuck with us. And I have a feeling it’s going to get lively,’ he added, angling his head across the coffee shop.

Esme looked over at Brian and Hortense. Their conversation had swiftly moved on from shy smiles and niceties and they now seemed to be embroiled in some heated debate. Esme and Zach had only left them alone for two minutes.

‘Do you think they’re arguing already?’ Zach asked.

‘It’s hard to tell. If they are it doesn’t look as if it’s getting too violent yet.’

Zach laughed. ‘We might have to keep an eye on them this week.’

‘Like a pair of toddlers?’

‘Something like that,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve only chatted to Brian for ten minutes or so, but I can tell from those ten minutes and what I’ve seen of Hortense so far that they’re worlds apart. We might get a few more debates before the week is out.’

‘As long as it doesn’t get out of hand,’ Esme said, still looking at them. ‘Friendly banter is one thing, but I don’t think I’d fancy refereeing an argument between those two.’

‘I’m sure they can be adult about their differences.’

‘You’re right, though. We are a funny bunch to be hanging around together when you really think about it. All different ages and backgrounds that would never meet in normal life, and if we did, we probably wouldn’t be more than passing acquaintances.’

‘Do you think passing acquaintances can have a good time on holiday together?’

‘Maybe. I hope so. I hope our funny bunch are more than that when the week is out. I’d like to think we could be friends.’

‘So you think I’m funny?’ he asked.

She glanced at Hortense and Brian again, and then back at Zach who constantly seemed to be sharing some private joke with only himself, and she shook her head.

‘OK, maybe not you. Not yet I don’t.’

‘Give me time – I’ll work on persuading you otherwise.’

Esme had to laugh.

‘So, you’re sure you don’t want to run off and leave the funny bunch to it?’

‘No, I don’t think I’ll run off just yet.’

‘At least it’s only seven days, eh?’

‘That too,’ Esme replied with a smile. ‘If all else fails there’s a big snowy wilderness to hide in.’

Zach grinned broadly at her. ‘I’m glad you decided to come.’

Esme stopped laughing and another wave of heat rose to her face. She wanted to say that she was glad she’d come too. But Warren was at work and she pictured him getting home to a cold, empty flat and a note from her and she wasn’t so sure after all.