“My brother has never liked his hair being cut.” Claire moved up a seat, letting Vic sit down. “I cut it once while he was sleeping. It was the only way.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Max?” I sat down and tightened my seatbelt. In about sixty seconds I’d be clutching onto the arm rests for grim life, praying to any deity that was listening or even half listening while watching TV.
“Max is on his stag weekend.” Vic sounded confident. “He’s on his way to the Lake District. Some remote barn type stuff and adventure weekend survival crap.”
Vanessa was sitting across the aisle from me, turning round to see Victoria. I could just about make out her expression from the corner of my eyes.
“How much detail did he give you about it?”
I heard the edge to Vanessa’s voice.
“Not much. I think Jackson was organising it. At least it wasn’t Seph. That would’ve been a weekend in Amsterdam with a guided tour of every red light led by him.” Victoria laughed.
I heard a familiar voice. One that I’d spent a fair bit of time listening to.
“So Max didn’t think he was going abroad anywhere, did he?” Vanessa’s reassuring tone was switched on full.
Another familiar laugh came down the aisle.
Shit.
“No. He was packing for the Lakes. Outdoor gear. Stuff for snow.”
I managed to turn my head around and saw Victoria lazing back in her seat. The flight to Reykjavik was a short one, thankfully, and not just because I’d be counting each breath until we landed.
The in-flight entertainment was definitely going to be first class.
“Stuff for snow. Remember it’s unseasonably warm at home.” Vanessa turned round and buckled her seatbelt. “Not sure they needed snow stuff for hiking and canoeing. Maybe they were going somewhere else and not the Lake District.”
She gave me a quick look that I recognised, having seen it whilst having conversations with my ex-husband when he was acting too interested in resurrecting the incinerated corpse of our marriage and I wasn’t seeing it.
Danger. Abort. Shit.
I turned around again and a sight five rows back caught my eye. A very attractive sight that had never once caused any fluttering of my heart or other regions. A sight that waved his hand at me and gave me a grin that could only be described as wicked dipped in treacle.
Joseph Callaghan was arguably the most beautiful of all his three brothers. A shade over six three with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes that resembled chocolate and an excruciatingly cute dimple which could still be seen through the well-tended scruff adorning the jaw that should only be allowed in editorial fashion shoots.
Seph, as he was known, tried every few months to work his way into my underwear. He wouldn’t succeed and he knew it.
He was also chancing death by annoying Victoria. As were his brothers.
“What the fuck?” I mouthed the words.
He smiled, far too charmingly, and shrugged. The flight attendant smiled at him as she walked passed, checking safety belts were fastened.
“Who are you talking to?” Victoria looked at me and then turned round.
The plane started to wheel towards the runway. My stomach churned. My life flashed by my eyes.
I couldn’t hear the prayers I uttered at that point. The airwaves around me were temporarily filled with the sharp, scary-librarian tones of Seph’s possible future sister-in-law realising her fiancé had hijacked her hen weekend.
There were a few catcalls and bellows of laughter from Max’s friends, brothers and cousins who had somehow managed to fill a good proportion of the plane without us noticing.
Which had clearly been the plan.
“They’re not going to get married after this. She’s going to find the hottest spring and hold his head underwater until he fries.” I didn’t bother to keep my voice down; Vanessa could hear me and so could Victoria who had now adopted a stony silence.
Vanessa sighed and offered her hand across the aisle. “And if she manages to do that, it means you’ve survived the flight.”
