‘OK, Alfie, I’m heading off now,’ I say, popping my head round the door to my son’s room. I’m dismayed to see him still in bed. ‘Hadn’t you better be getting up?’
‘Don’t nag,’ comes a reply muffled by the duvet he pulls over his head.
I check my watch, I can’t afford to hang about any longer and without giving it too much consideration, I yank the end of Alfie’s cover, exposing his head and shoulders. ‘Come on, you need to get up now.’
‘Oi!’ Alfie sits up and snatches at his cover. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘To make you get up. You’ll be late for school. I need to go.’
‘I’m not stopping you. Go.’
‘Alfie! Get up. Now.’ I go to pull the cover again, but this time he’s prepared and holds it tightly around his shoulders.
‘Pack it in. Just piss off.’
I ignore his bad language. Some battles are not worth the fight. ‘Get out of bed,’ I insist.
I don’t expect him to move so fast but in a split second, Alfie has jumped out of bed and is standing directly in front of me. ‘I’m up now. All right?’ he snarls at me, his face inches from mine as I get the full force of his stale breath.
‘OK,’ I say, taking a step back, instantly wishing I had thought twice before going into battle. My heel hits the bottom of the bedroom door, which vibrates violently as the edge digs between my shoulder blades. I let out a small cry of pain.
‘I think that’s called karma,’ says Alfie. He pushes past me, knocking his shoulder against mine as he does so. ‘Hadn’t you better go? You’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.’ He slams the bathroom door shut behind him.
My attempts at garnering a response from Alfie by calling bye to him through the bathroom door are met with the sound of the shower on full-blast.
Normally, I’d make an effort to smooth things over before leaving, but today I haven’t got time and I think Alfie is deliberately spending longer in the shower than usual to avoid appeasing my guilt by parting on amicable terms.
As I walk down the road, I reflect that today’s battle was tame. Sometimes the arguments and confrontations can be much worse and I find myself thinking about the future when we don’t live together and wonder if our relationship will be any better then. I’m tired of the emotionally draining status quo we’re at, and I long for quieter days ahead when I’m on my own. Before I reach the end of the road, I already feel guilty for wishing the days away as I remind myself it’s not Alfie’s fault he’s the way he is. It’s mine.
My spine aches from carrying my rucksack the mere half a mile from my home and I’m sure the knock to my back earlier isn’t helping matters as, even to the touch, it feels tender. I turn the corner into South Street where the dark shop windows and closed doors, yet to be roused from their slumber by the arrival of early morning shop assistants, serve only to reflect the prospect of rain later today. I adjust the straps of my rucksack and hitch it further on to my shoulders as I head towards the end of the road where the four main shopping streets meet and the city cathedral occupies one corner. I scan the benches which line the pavement and overlook the cathedral grounds.
Andrea is sitting on the middle bench, a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand and her mobile in the other. She spots me and waves, phone still in hand.
I lumber over to her. ‘Yay! You came. And you’re the first one. You must be keen.’ I wriggle my arms free of the straps and dump the rucksack on the ground, then take a seat beside Andrea on the bench.
‘Keen as mustard, me,’ says Andrea. ‘To be fair, Colin dropped me off this morning so I didn’t have to get the bus. Don’t mistake my dislike of the bus service for enthusiasm to be here.’ She reaches down and retrieves a cup from under the bench, presenting it to me. ‘Here, I got you a latte.’
‘Thanks.’ I take the cup and tentatively lift it to my lips, taking a minuscule sip to gauge the temperature. ‘No sign of Zoe yet?’
‘She texted me. Said she’ll be five minutes.’
‘And no word from Joanne as to what happens now?’ I take a more confident sip of the latte, having deemed it to be of an acceptable drinking temperature.
‘Nope. Nothing. So we sit here and wait,’ says Andrea. She leans against the wooden slats of the bench and purses her lips in the way she does when she has something on her mind. I wait for her to speak. ‘I know you said it was a chance to put our friendships back on track, but I’m not sure things will ever be the same between me and Joanne. The dynamics have changed and I don’t think she can deal with it.’
‘Try to be positive about it. This could be her way of saying sorry.’ I don’t wish to reignite the flames of doubt that I had successfully extinguished before I went to sleep last night. ‘Look, it’s Joanne’s fortieth. Maybe she’s realised the importance of having good friends. Yes, we may have our little disagreements or falling outs, but at the end of the day, friendship is worth more.’
Andrea gives me a sideways look. ‘You need to try harder than that to convince me.’
‘I’ll be honest. Last night, after I spoke to you, I did think maybe it wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe it’s best to leave the past alone.’
‘Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along?’
‘I know, but another part of me thinks if this is Joanne’s way of saying sorry, it could be a good opportunity for us to clear the air with her. That way, maybe things can get back on track.’
‘True, but it will be awkward for Zoe. I don’t think her and Joanne have fallen out about anything.’
‘I thought about that too. My theory is that Zoe’s the goodwill ambassador for this trip.’
‘But why all this big secrecy? Why not a meal out? Isn’t that what normal people do?’
‘Remember, this is Joanne we’re talking about. She loves all this cloak-and-dagger stuff.’ I give Andrea a playful tap on her thigh. ‘I’m sure we’re going to have a great time.’
As we both sip our drinks, I spot Zoe’s unmistakable five- feet-ten frame cutting across the lawn of the cathedral. She has a sports holdall hanging off her shoulder, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail and is wearing leggings with trainers. She looks more like she’s off to the gym than an adventure weekend. I wave to her.
‘Hi, guys,’ says Zoe. ‘I made it. Ooh, coffee, is that for me?’ She takes the cup that Andrea holds out to her. ‘Lovely. We all set for this mysterious adventure weekend?’ She smiles broadly, reminding me of an excited child on Christmas Eve.
‘Yeah, Andrea can’t wait,’ I say, winking at the new arrival.
Zoe pulls a card from her pocket. I recognise the white lettering on the black invitation immediately and the PPS written by Joanne. Zoe reads it out loud. ‘An adventure weekend, full of mysteries and surprises, the like of which you can’t imagine.’ She looks at both of us. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘It’s the surprise bit I don’t care for,’ says Andrea. ‘Not to mention the bit about making amends.’
Zoe gives a shrug. ‘I love surprises. I wonder what she has planned for us?’
‘Oh God, I don’t know if I can cope with your enthusiasm this early in the morning,’ says Andrea, shaking her head. ‘Thank goodness I packed some vodka. Where is it?’ Andrea makes to rummage around in her rucksack.
Both Zoe and I laugh. ‘If only your clients knew the truth about you,’ says Zoe. ‘Right, what happens now? Anyone know?’
‘We wait for Joanne, I suppose,’ I say, looking around to see if there is any sign of our infamous host.
As if on cue, a black MPV pulls up alongside the pavement. The rear door automatically slides open and the driver gives a toot of the horn.
‘This must be for us,’ says Zoe. ‘How exciting.’
‘Either that or we’re about to be abducted,’ says Andrea, picking up her rucksack.
I hoist mine up on to my shoulder and follow Zoe to the car, dropping my half-drunk latte into the waste bin as I go.
Zoe hops into the vehicle without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Ooh, it’s very swish in here,’ she calls to us.
I exchange looks with Andrea as we reach the edge of the path. Andrea surveys the vehicle. ‘I suppose it’s not a van. I’m slightly reassured that it looks like a swanky MPV, exactly the sort of thing Joanne would hire.’
‘Come on, there’s loads of room,’ says Zoe. ‘And there’s an envelope, addressed to us all.’
‘No sign of Joanne, then?’ I push my rucksack in first and climb into the vehicle, taking the rear-facing seat. I look over my shoulder at the driver. He’s a middle-aged man and, as far as I can see, is dressed in a shirt and tie. ‘Morning,’ I say with a smile.
‘Morning,’ he replies, not turning but looking in the rear-view mirror at me.
‘Where are we off to?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Need-to-know basis,’ he says, giving a tap to the side of his nose with his finger. He shifts in his seat and reaches over to the passenger seat, retrieving a small blue cloth bag. ‘Mrs Aldridge has requested that you all put your mobile phones in this bag.’
‘What?’ Andrea plonks herself down in her seat. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’m sorry, but Mrs Aldridge has said it’s all part of the surprise. It’s all there in the envelope apparently.’
‘Give me that,’ says Andrea, taking the envelope from Zoe’s hand. She rips it open and reads out loud the letter inside.
Dear lovely ladies,
So now you’re all aboard and on Phase One of the journey. I hope you approve of your mode of transport. Only the best for my best friends!
I expect Zoe, you’re all excited and can’t wait to find out where you’re going. You love secrets and surprises, probably even more than I do, but I think I’m going to have the last laugh this time.
Andrea, I imagine you’re frowning right now and cursing me for keeping it all hush-hush. Sorry, I know this goes against your natural instinct to be the one in charge!
Carys, you, I imagine are sitting there, taking it all in and trying to second-guess my next move, wondering how to play this one and if you can out-smart me. Am I right? I bet I am. Hahahaha!
Well, my lovely friends, don’t waste time trying to quiz the driver, I’ve paid handsomely for his silence. You’ve got about an hour’s drive, so sit back and relax.
Please be very sweet and hand your phones over. I don’t want anyone cheating and turning on their maps app.
Oh, yeah, bubbly under the seat. Chink, chink!
Love Joanne xxx
The driver shakes the bag and passes it to me. Reluctantly, I place my mobile inside. ‘Better play along,’ I say, even though I’m not happy about it myself. What if Alfie needs to speak to me? Or Seb? I console myself with the idea that Joanne will no doubt let us have them back once we arrive and this is only her way of keeping the location a surprise.
‘It is Joanne’s birthday treat,’ says Zoe. She too places her phone in the bag.
We both look at Andrea expectantly. A small expression of defiance settles on her face for a moment and then with a big huff and drop of her shoulders, she produces her phone from her jacket pocket. ‘Don’t want to upset the birthday girl, do we?’ she says with little grace. She hands the phone to me, which I pop in the bag and then hand to the driver.
‘Right, that’s that,’ I say.
‘Hmm,’ says Andrea, dumping the letter in Zoe’s lap, before rummaging under the seat. ‘Where’s this bubbly?’ She pulls out a cool bag and we hear the distinct sound of glasses clinking. ‘Aha. Here we go. Right, what’s in here? Prosecco and three glasses. Typically, Joanne-style, they’re glasses and not plastic ones.’ Formalities pushed aside, Andrea dishes out the glasses and pops open the bottle as the car pulls away from the kerb. Despite jolting over some potholes, Andrea successfully fills each of the glasses. ‘Cheers!’
I’m not entirely sure I can stomach too much alcohol this early in the morning, but not wanting to be a killjoy, I decide to join in with the celebrations and take a small sip.
‘So, who’s looking after Alfie?’ asks Zoe.
‘He’s over at Andrea’s for the weekend. I expect him and Bradley will be glued to their games, only emerging for food.’
‘Colin will be in his element too,’ says Andrea. ‘He’ll be able to watch the sporting channels with zero interruptions.’
‘Who’s looking after your boys?’ I ask Zoe.
‘I’ve enlisted the help of my mum. The kids tried to tell me that at fifteen and seventeen they were OK to be left for the weekend.’ Zoe gives a roll of her eyes. ‘I’m not that daft! If their dad didn’t live so far away, they could have gone there, but trying to get them up to Liverpool for just a weekend is nigh-on impossible. Plus, I didn’t want to ask any favours from him.’
Zoe emphasises the word him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her refer to her ex-husband by his name. Zoe is the new girl out of the four of us, having moved to the area about a year ago after her marriage broke up. It was a fresh start, she’d told us that first morning we all had coffee together. I can’t remember who made friends with her first. She appeared one day at our regular keep-fit class and the next thing, she’d struck up a conversation and she was sitting with us having coffee afterwards. She had just slotted in. It was like she’d always known us and we’d always known her. A new star to extend our constellation.
As the MPV smoothly exits Chichester, I look out of the window for clues as to where we are going. We are heading north and in my mind I picture a rough map of the area and where we could get to in an hour. Certainly out of Sussex. Although, there is the possibility that it’s part of the surprise and we end up back where we started from. I wouldn’t put it past Joanne.
About half an hour later the car takes a turn off the main road and down a narrow lane. Trees line the road on either side, blocking out much of the daylight. The car turns off but I don’t manage to catch a glimpse of the signpost. Neither of my travelling companions seem to be worrying about where we are heading. The Prosecco bottle now empty, Zoe is busy opening another as Andrea tells us about the spinning class she had taken yesterday for the local rugby team.
‘I love my job, but some days, I love it more than others,’ she says. ‘Those rugby players, Christ, they have stamina. All those muscular legs. I didn’t know where to look. Well, I did, if you know what I mean!’ She fans herself with her hand and sighs.
‘Ah, don’t give us that, you’ve eyes for Colin only,’ I say. Much as Andrea likes to make out she drools over all the toned men who come into the gym, her and Colin are a solid couple.
The car begins to slow down and gradually the trees on either side of the road thin out, before disappearing completely on our left. A small airfield comes into view.
‘Farnstead Airport,’ I read the sign out loud as the driver turns through the gates and pulls up in a parking bay. ‘This is definitely where you were supposed to take us?’
‘Definitely,’ says the driver. He opens the glove box and takes out another envelope. ‘These are your next set of instructions. While you read them, I’ll take this over to the departure terminal.’ He holds up the blue cloth bag and leaves us with the envelope.
Zoe reads it out this time. ‘So, you’ve all arrived at Farnstead Airport, Phase One of the journey is complete. Now for Phase Two. Please proceed to the departure terminal where at reception you will find a flight booked for you under my name. Don’t worry, you don’t need passports, just the photo ID I told you to bring. Enjoy the view and see you soon!’ Zoe looks up at us, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘She’s only bloody chartered us a flight!’
Twenty minutes later, we are sitting in a small light aircraft, still none the wiser as to where we are heading.
‘Obviously the UK,’ says Andrea. ‘Although I can’t say I’m particularly enjoying being stuck in this thing. It’s hardly a Boeing 747.’
‘I think it’s exciting,’ says Zoe.
Andrea looks up to the ceiling in despair.
‘Oh, come on, Andrea. Don’t be a party-pooper,’ I say, nudging her foot with my own. ‘Joanne’s gone to a lot of trouble. Relax and enjoy it.’
Andrea gives another look of exasperation but I can tell it’s half-hearted. ‘I’ll relax when we’ve reached wherever the hell we’re going and my feet are firmly on the ground again.’ Andrea peers under the seat. ‘No Prosecco this time.’
I exchange a grin with Zoe. Andrea loves playing up to her role of harbinger of doom and gloom.
The pilot is very pleasant but he too has been paid into silence by Joanne, so the three of us have no choice but to peer out of the window and make rough approximations of whereabouts in the UK we are flying over and speculate as to where we could be heading. The uneasy realisation that this is totally out of my control dawns on me. Joanne’s idea of a surprise has reached new heights, literally. And I don’t like feeling I’m at her mercy now.