I raise an eyebrow.
‘Good that it now seems unlikely that we’ll be entering eternity together,’ I say.
‘Iwasthinking about apologising,’ she says with dignity, ‘but have now decided not to.’
I laugh.
She carries on looking haughtily irritable for a couple of moments, and then she laughs too.
‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Sorry.’
‘Deeply apologetic apology accepted,’ I say.
The plane does another really big (genuinely somewhat alarming) lurch and Flavia grabs my arm again.
‘I’m just going to say now,’ I say, ‘that if wedo, er, join eternity together, not that we’re going to,obviously, I am very, very sorry.’
‘As you should be. You shouldn’t have tempted fate with all your stupid statistics.’ Flavia’s fingers are still digging hard into my arm. I vaguely wonder whether she does some hobby or sport that involves gripping things, because her fingers arestrong.
We remain like that until the turbulence entirely disappears, after which Flavia gradually relaxes her fingers, and then we give each other quick smiles, before resuming our separate activities – me some work, Flavia her Kindle – until breakfast is brought round, and the rest of the flight passes uneventfully.
I’m not sure how I feel about sitting next to her like this, I reflect over a cup of very stewed tea. Following the turbulence, the false alarm and Flavia’s arm-holding, we seem to have reached some kind of understanding that we might vaguely like each other despite our very clear differences (and her chaos). Also, even without the turbulence experience, there’s a strange kind of intimacy about sharing a long-haul flight with someone; it’s as though this has become our home for a while. I don’t think I want to experience this with Flavia. It’s causing me to remember how I thought I felt about her all those years ago. It’s unnerving.
I am, therefore, looking forward to landing and joining our wider group.
I would imagine that Flavia and I will then not be forced to spend any one-on-one time together until the flight home, and I will be able to push away any uncomfortable memories about how I truly believed I was in love with her.
I glance at her again. She’s even more beautiful than she was when we were younger. Over a decade’s maturity shows in her face and it would be very, very easy for someone less life-hardened than me to imagine they were attracted to her. Fortunately, I have learnt from experience that a pretty face does not a perfect companion make. She’s the daughter of my mum’s close friend, and my own close friend’s sister, and I wreck relationships. Plus, the grown-up Flavia seems very chaotic, and chaos is not my thing.
Frankly, I was ridiculous to believe I’d fallen in everlasting love with her.
3
FLAVIA
I’m so relieved when we land that I’m struggling not to hug anyone I can get my hands on, even Dominic. I’m just so extremely happy to be alive. Flying in an enormous, very heavy, metal tube high up in the sky is not natural.
Also, it’s been weird sitting next to Dominic and I’ll be glad to escape his presence. Being with him on this flight has been like going back in time, but in a weird way, as though I’ve been looking at the past through one of those distorted fairground mirrors.
A decade ago, I thought I’d fallen in love with him at what was essentially first sight, and for far too long had high hopes for some kind of miracle that would one day allow us to live in the same place at the same time and get together. And now… well now I see that Dominic’s a very neat and tidy, good-looking man who’s really quite uptight about being surrounded by total silence on a plane so that he can work. The same Dominic… but also really not the same.
And that’s the thing about love at first (or almost first) sight. There is no such thing. Clearly you can meet someone andfeelimmediately in love and then if you’re very lucky get to know each other and discover that you really are compatible. But you can’t actuallyknowsomeone at first sight. That immediate connection must really just be mutual physical attraction.
Dominic moves next to me in his seat as he (very precisely and tidily) places his laptop into its pristine (and very expensive-looking) black leather case. His thigh brushes mine for a second and my whole body pathetically reacts to the large solidity of his.
He whips his leg away from mine and I glance up at his face. He’s turned away from me, and all I see is his (very gorgeous) profile, topped by his sensible haircut, which I could easilynotfind attractive.
Which all exactly demonstrates my thoughts about attraction versus love. Yes, I’mphysicallyattracted to him (despite the sensible hair), but, no, I am clearly not and never will be in love with him.
Overall, I really don’t like being around Dominic. Physically I’m constantly on edge. And mentally I am too. Like, from the moment I discovered we were on this trip together, I’ve been a little snippy with him. He just annoys me. Possibly because I thought about him for so long and have now discovered that he hasn’t grown up into the man I would have imagined him to be in his mid-thirties. And I don’t like being snippy. I’m basicallyneversnippy. It’s the effect Dominic has had on me. So I’m looking forward to getting off the plane and meeting the rest of the people in our tour group and feeling normal again.
I send Mum and Jenna texts saying that we’ve landed safely and I can’t wait to leave the airport and see Cape Town properly, look once again at Dominic’s perfect and slightly disapproving profile, and manoeuvre very hard to make sure that there’s another passenger between him and me as we disembark.
As I leave the plane, I find myself next to Judith, the reluctant flyer from the row behind. Now we’ve landed, she looks alothappier.
‘I’m so sorry about my anxious waffling during the flight.’ She has a very nice smile. ‘It’s just that, even though I know all that statistic stuff, I still worry when I’m on the plane.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I agree. ‘I’msoglad to be on the ground again. Anyway. We’re here now, thank goodness. Are you spending long in Cape Town?’
