CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Drake

We sat down on the plane side-by side. I still couldn't quite believe it. I looked at Ainsley and she looked at me. We were wired, out grins sharp with adrenaline.

We fastened our seat-belts and sat there, our hands linked on the removable arm-rest, knees touching.

“I'm so excited,” Ainsley whispered.

I nodded. “Me, too.”

Now that we'd made it onto the plane, my tension was starting to dissolve. I still wouldn't feel entirely relieved until we were in the air, but all the same, this was something.

“Please pay attention while we show you the safety features of this Boeing seven-four-seven aircraft,” the flight-attendant began. I listened with half an ear, my mind racing through the thousand other things that were occupying my thoughts.

Ainsley had a glossy magazine on her knee, the airline courtesy magazine. I watched the pictures – beaches in Spain, mountains in France, piazzas in Italy. I tried not to worry.

Two things still bothered me. Firstly, Ainsley's sickness. Secondly, the future. Besides all our own considerations – where to stay, what to do – there was the additional worry of the more-distant future. What would we do in six months?

“...sit back, relax and enjoy the flight,” the attendant was chanting out. I nodded.

Sounds like good advice.

I looked across at Ainsley and she looked up at me. Her brown eyes were shining and I resisted the temptation to cover those sweet lips with my own hard, hungry ones.

“Ready?” she whispered.

“Uh huh.”

We held hands as the plane threw itself down the track and then hurtled up, up, into the sky. As Miami dropped away below us and the sky, blue and shining, swallowed us in, I felt myself finally start to relax.

“We're off,” I said.

“Uh huh.”

Ainsley grinned at me, her fingers gripping over mine.

We chatted for a bit but I could see her eyelids drooping. When she fell asleep I sat looking down at her. I hoped she was okay. All this stress had been too much for her.

I supposed I was a complete asshole, descending into her life and endangering it, then hauling her off to another country where she'd never been and knew no-one.

All the same, I couldn't help but be excited.

I must have fallen asleep too, because when I woke up it was dark and the air-hostess was coming round with dinner.

“I feel a bit queasy,” Ainsley murmured as she took a tray.

“You're okay?” I asked, frowning. “Should I call someone, or..?”

“I'm okay,” she demurred. “Just this same thing that's been bothering me the last two days. Silly, really. Must be tension.”

“Mm,” I nodded. “Think the stockings will help?” I asked with a teasing smile.

“I am about to find out,” she said. “I'll change into them after dinner.”

“Oh. Good.”

***

I changed my stockings and I had to admit the effects seemed beneficial. My head started throbbing a bit less. My tummy had settled a bit too. It must be nerves.

All the same, I was starting to wonder what exactly was wrong with me.

I sat next to Drake and we chatted for a bit and then he started to drop off for a while. I closed my eyes but my mind was too busy for sleep.

I was nervous. I was excited. A part of me was a bit preoccupied with my own ill-health. Food-poisoning? Maybe.

I closed my eyes and let sleep descend over me.

I woke up with the loud-speaker announcement.

“In twenty minutes we will begin our descent. Conditions on the ground are eight degrees and rainy.”

I stifled a smile.

“Rainy?” Drake said, giving me a sleepy grin. I breathed in the warm, manly scent of him, made stronger by a night sleeping in clothes.

I nodded. “It is the UK.”

He chuckled. “As I thought.”

I was excited and restless and took the last call for the toilets as an opportunity to stretch my legs. As I stood the world blanked out and I sat down heavily, a pain sawing through my stomach. I groaned and held my belly. When I opened my eyes, Drake was looking at me.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I murmured dizzily. “I'm fine. I guess I don't fly well, or something.”

I wobbled down the aisle and found the bathroom.

I managed not to be sick, which was quite impressive given that we were also approaching turbulence, and then headed back to my seat. Each little bump and wobble lanced through me and made me want to throw up. I held onto Drake's hand and groaned aloud.

Then we were landing.

The plane smacked down and hurtled down the runway and then came to an abrupt halt. I looked at Drake. He looked at me.

We were in the UK.

Drake helped me off the plane, so gently that I almost protested.

“I'm not glass,” I grinned at him, kissing his hair fondly.

“No, but you are precious,” he murmured into my hair. “And you're not well.”

I nodded. “I sometimes wonder if...” I shook my head. “No. That's stupid.”

“No...what?” he asked. “Nothing's stupid, sweetie.”

I shook my head again. “I...” I wondered whether I should tell him about what had happened that morning on the way to work. Trust. “I just wonder if someone hasn't done something.”

“Done something?”

We walked onto the bus and it was too loud in there to say anything, so by the time we could talk we were getting off into the enormous, crowded space that was Heathrow airport.

Maybe he's forgotten. Then I don't need to tell him.

“Sweetie?” he asked solicitously. “What's wrong? You had something you were telling me. Remember...?”

I sighed. “It's stupid, But still. When I went to work on Friday morning, I was waiting for the bus and...and this guy came over. He asked me for directions and I told him and we were chatting. He thanked me for the help and gave me one of the donuts he had with him. I was hungry so I... I ate it,” I admitted.

“That's fine,” Drake said with a frown. We were waiting at baggage claim now and I looked away, watching the conveyer with the luggage.

“No,” I said in a small voice. “It's not. What if...what if it was him? It looked like him.”

“Him?” Drake frowned. “You mean...”

“Yes,” I said as his face fell, making the same pattern of horror that I was starting to feel inside me. “What if I've been poisoned?”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was pale.

“We'll see a doctor as soon as we can,” he promised. “This isn't going to happen. It can't happen.”

I smiled at him gently. He looked so worried. “It's gonna be okay,” I whispered.

He smiled, a desperate grin. “I hope so.”

We collected our luggage and headed out though passport control. A very efficient Sikh man stamped our passports and then we were walking out into the arrivals lounge. We had made it.

We were in the UK.

I only prayed that I would stay alive long enough to enjoy it.