‘Come on!’ Jack was clicking his fingers nervously, standing beside the revolving doors of Exeter airport. They were waiting for a bike courier who’d accidentally gone to Bristol to deliver the passports that their cleaner had foraged out of the depths of Jack’s filing cabinet for them. Incredibly the revelation that Stella had a cleaner had not been commentated on by her mother, who seemed to consciously hold her tongue when the calls had been made.
Now all of them – except Moira who had staunchly refused to come – were hovering by the airport doors. Check-in for Flight 762 to Faro, Portugal, was meant to have closed but the lovely woman from the desk was waiting for them. They were hand-luggage only, having decided three days was enough to work out if their hunch was right or wrong, and once the passports arrived they just had to leg it through security.
Gus was leaning against the silver railing just across from Jack, his bag at his feet. Amy was perched about a metre away from him. Sonny was sitting cross-legged on his rucksack doing something on his phone. Rosie was wheeling the trolley from side to side.
Time ticked by. No one really spoke.
Then Gus glanced over at Amy and said, ‘So, have you ever looked after your own passport?’
Amy didn’t look at him.
Gus laughed. ‘It’s a serious question.’
‘It’s not a serious question,’ Amy said. ‘It’s something that you’re saying so you can go on to say something else which will be bad about me, like, “Wow, man, if you can’t look after a passport how are you going to look after a baby.”’ She put on a really deep voice as she spoke.
‘I don’t sound like that.’
‘Yes you do.’
‘And I’d never say “Man”.’
Amy rolled her eyes. ‘A baby is very different to a passport, Gus.’
Gus held his hands up. ‘This is so unfair. You’re having a go at me about something you’ve invented for me to say.’
There was a snigger of laughter from where Sonny was sitting on his bag on the floor.
Amy turned away.
Gus tapped his passport on his knuckles.
After a second or two, Amy said, ‘That’s a really annoying noise.’
Gus carried on tapping.
‘I said that’s really annoying,’ Amy repeated.
Gus carried on.
‘Gus!’ Amy snapped.
Stella swung round. ‘Can you two stop bickering. Jesus, Gus – stop tapping.’
Gus stopped tapping.
Everyone was silent again. Stella looked at her watch. Jack was still clicking his fingers, peering out into the road constantly checking.
Sonny looked up from the floor. ‘How come you had your passport with you, Gus?’
‘Carry it with me everywhere,’ he said, with a smug raise of his eyebrows. ‘Always ready for adventure.’
Amy scoffed in disbelief.
Little Rosie stopped messing with the luggage trolley. ‘Do you go on many adventures, Gus?’
‘What do you call this?’ Gus asked, arms stretched wide.
Rosie looked around at them all, excitement sparking in her eyes at the idea that this was an adventure.
They’d formed a gang and nothing could split them up. Back at the house the day before when Stella had suggested maybe just she and Amy go, Sonny had kicked off that he was the main reason the search had carried on and demanded a seat on the plane. Newly free-spirited Jack had said a holiday might be good for them. Rosie had whooped. Gus had raised his arms and gone, ‘Why the hell don’t we all just go?’ To which Moira had tutted and said, ‘If he wants to come back he knows where we are. You won’t catch me traipsing half-way across Europe to find him.’
Unable to stay completely out of proceedings, however, Moira had wrangled them a pretty impressive discount at the camp-site-slash-yoga-resort on the Algarve where Mitch was a regular teacher.
At which point Stella had frowned and said, ‘Why would Mitch do that for us?’
‘He didn’t do it for you, he did it for me.’
‘Are you sleeping with him, Mum?’
Moira had gasped, ‘Stella!’ at the impertinence.
Now the clock was ticking. Stella shook her head. ‘Adventure or not, I don’t think we’re going to make it.’
A couple of smokers by the airport door checked their own watches, sharing a look of agreement between them.
Sonny thumped his bag.
But then the dark helmet of the motorbike courier drew up alongside them – four passports in his outstretched gloved hand and Jack almost crumpled on the pavement in relief.
The moment was immediately overshadowed however by the dramatic arrival of Moira, stepping out of a taxi, dressed in black-with-a-hint-of-crazy-fluoro athleisure wear, and unclicking the handle of her snazzy little wheelie case as the driver put it down on the pavement in front of her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Stella asked.
Moira pushed her sunglasses up into her big red hair and said matter-of-factly, ‘Catching the plane with you. I checked in online.’
‘Come on!’ shouted Jack and suddenly they were all running. The woman from the check-in desk was radioing through to the departure gate. The queue at security glared at them as they squeezed their way to the front full of apologies, expressions anxious – apart from Gus who seemed to be enjoying the drama. The flight attendants welcomed them aboard with raised brows at their lateness. Other passengers audibly sighed as they went past to find their seats. Stella had to look at the floor to avoid any eye contact.
They sat down: Rosie by the window, then Jack, then Sonny, then Gus, then Stella because Amy nudged her forward so she didn’t have to sit next to Gus, then Amy. Then in the row in front was Moira, who stuck her head through the gap in the seats and said, ‘I don’t know why everyone had to glare at us, we’re not exactly criminals – just a bit late for a plane, for heaven’s sake.’
Gus nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more, Moira.’
‘Don’t encourage her,’ said Stella. Then leaning forward to talk to her mother’s face pressed between the seats asked, ‘Why are you here?’
Moira did a haughty little pout. ‘Mitch thought it would be good for me. For closure. His use of the word, not mine; it’s a ghastly term.’ She was about to turn around when she paused and glanced back. ‘And someone has to keep an eye on you all, don’t they?’
Stella sat where she was, leaning slightly forward, looking at her mother’s hair through the seat gap, strangely relieved that she had turned up. It had concerned her that were they to find their dad, Stella really didn’t know what she would say to him, and suddenly the presence of her mother, for one of the first times in her life, felt amazingly comforting.
Stella reached through the gap and tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Yes?’ Moira asked, her handbag on her lap as she rummaged for her things for the flight.
‘You kept my stuff,’ Stella said. ‘In the attic.’
Moira paused. ‘Yes.’
Stella nodded.
Moira twisted round further so she could see if Stella had anything else to add.
Stella sat back in her seat.
Moira looked at her for a second then she smiled and turned back round. Stella watched as she put her book club book in the mesh pocket, her bag under the seat in front, and then turned and looked round again, catching her eye just for a moment, before reaching for the in-flight magazine.