Mr J Ahmadi and Ms L Mathews please proceed to your gate, the flight is ready to board now.
The announcement made them both giggle, they were both a bit stupid sometimes.
He holds her hand and only looks at her, maybe he is forgiven one ogle at a pretty blonde, but he doesn't push it.
He had admitted writing all of those anonymous stories and love poems to her.
She was after all, his.
This is what Lucy had told Flick the last time they met. How could this spiral outta control so fast, she'd only gone off for a few days.
Flick, is wondering why she missed the fact that her best mate had been in such a bad way.
She remembered being on another mini break with Augustino, think it was when we went to Prague that time. She'd got a text from lucy. She was saying she'd split up with that new bloke, the businessman. She'd warned her off him before, he sounded iffy. But anyway she had sounded a bit down, but single women were always like that and she never stood up to her family, of course they'll want her there with them at home. Free Cleaner, she'd laughed to her sister. Half joking, she was a little concerned as concerned as her personality allowed her to be.
If she'd really been that down she would have rung me, I'm sure, instead of sending that strange email. Plus we're adults, we don't have the time to be in each others pockets. Flick was made of teflon. As hard as fuck. The hairdresser never paused to take life too seriously, if she did she'd end up in a heap too.
'I am a good friend', she'd protested years back to another friend who accused her of being selfish.
She was full of crazy ideas lately, Lucy. She thought he was hacking her phone. She won’t ever know if he did listen to her. He probably would not. His pedestal means he is forever a god to her.Charged with making her feel good forever and ever. Anything that goes wrong is somehow down to him not being looked after by her in some way.
She was singing in the house, before their first ‘date.’ Neither saw it as a date.
‘Last night I dreamt. That somebody loved me. Der der der dad dad daaaaa, no-oo surprise. Last night I ee felt real arms around me, no hope no clue Just another big goodbye, ‘
She sings to The Smiths, only her in the house, washing all the dishes everyone else left.
Turning the radio station over when the irritating dJ interrupted the song Lucy pulls her pink rubber gloves off and into the cupboard under the sink.
The steam from the hot water used billowed outside from a pipe, into the cold November garden.
She hated this time of year. December was when her mother died years back. September was when her fiancé had chucked her and well, it’s a non-descript wasteland of a month. All those Christmas tunes in the shops and all the frost.
Her phone rings, but she doesn’t pick up. Christ I’m tired. She walks upstairs, so glad the many cousins and other selected relatives are out. It is quiet. Her dog is nestled in its basket beside the fire. Walking up the stairs she notices that her Carnelian friendship bracelet had fallen off her dressing table.
In a moment she’ll fall asleep. A cookoo from the garden softly cooed. From her bed Lucy could see trees peeping over the balcony, she liked to wake up with the sun so left her curtains open. At night the big conifer sometimes looked like a monster. Just for a minute or two, she knew it wasn’t.