I’m going to go for a walk, I decide. I’d really like to stretch my legs after the long flight, plus I don’t want to be sitting alone in the foyer when Flavia arrives.
And there I go again. There is actually no reason that I can’t talk to her.
The thing is, she’s driving me insane.
Literally.
I mean, I put my hands all over my bed to stop her sleeping in it. Like a toddler, as she correctly pointed out. And I can’t help continuously noticing how very beautiful – sexy – she is. I don’twantto notice that.
When we were young, I imagined that if we’d been in the same place at the same time we could have – would have – made a great couple. I genuinely thought that we could have been together forever. Now I know that was utter nonsense: I destroy relationships. As do all my older siblings: seven divorces between the three of them and two of them aren’t even in their forties yet. At least I’m not as stupidly over-optimistic as the others; I don’t bother getting married in the first place, because Iknowit wouldn’t work.
So, since I would never want to upset her – she’s clearly a nice person – and I would also never want awkwardness between her family and mine, it’s fortunate that we were never in the same place at the same time for long when we were young. In some ways, I’m actually pleased to see her now and lay to rest the ghosts of that slight residual feeling ofthe one that got away. We were fated not to be in the same place at the same time, and fate did a good job there.
I should really take spending time with her on this trip as a positive. While she is, of course, still beautiful, I now know that physical attraction counts for very little, and so far it seems that we don’t have a huge amount in common beyond that, so we were clearly not in fact ever meant to be. And that is good knowledge to have.
* * *
It’s obviously very pleasant strolling outside the hotel. When I agreed to come on the trip, I read up on Cape Town, so I knew before I got here that Table Mountain isn’t – as I thought beforehand – a one-off, but that the city’s surrounded by mountains; but until you’re actually seeing it with your own eyes, you don’t appreciate quite how beautiful the city is architecturally and what a varied outlook there is, with the ocean and mountain backdrop.
It’s great, actually, to have the opportunity to have a change of scene, especially to such a glorious destination, catch a little winter sun, and of course go on the safari tomorrow.
I make sure that I’m back in the hotel in good time – I really don’t like being late for things or keeping people waiting – and join the rest of the group as they begin to trickle into the foyer.
Eventually, all except one of us are assembled. It’s no surprise to me that that one is Flavia. I feel that chaos and lateness must surely go hand in hand.
While we wait for her, we introduce ourselves to each other. I’ve already met Judith and Mike, on the flight and in the taxi. The other eight members of the group vary in age and nationality, but all seem to be very friendly, which I’m sure will make the next few days more enjoyable. I have a busy life and have no desire to make any new close friends on this trip, but it’s clearly always nice when a group feels cohesive.
We make small talk for a few minutes and then, just as Maxim, our guide, starts making noises about calling to chase ‘the final member of our group’, Flavia erupts into the foyer from the direction of the stairs, all flailing limbs, dark curls floating madly around her head and seemingly random items spilling out of the large, gold shoulder bag she’s carrying.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she says breathlessly. ‘I nodded off for a moment and was nearly late.’
Nearlylate? I resist the urge to look at my watch, and instead smile blandly, as Flavia hugs Judith (I mean, really? How long is it since they last saw each other?) and shares smiles with the other members of the group.
Maxim tells us that we’re going for brunch now, to a very popular waterfront café, and then up Table Mountain.
During the short stroll to the café, Flavia walks between Judith and another woman, Charlotte, and is immediately deep in conversation with them. I’m weirdly disappointed that I’m not walking with her, which I think is because, now that I’ve realised that it’s good to get this closure on the remaining we-were-good-together memory I had of her, I want to speak to her a little more in order to consolidate that feeling.
It’s fine, though, obviously. I’ll have many other opportunities to talk to her over the next few days, and Charlotte’s husband, Kris, and a quiet man called Alex, who I’m walking with, are pleasant company.
Maxim – who seems to have this trip organised to within an inch of its life, no bad thing – has a table plan for us in the café.
‘We want you all to leave this experience with new friends, but we also recognise that some people take a little time to feel comfortable with others, so for this meal we’ve seated travel companions together,’ he tells us.
Flavia and I, having been sent on this trip together, are therefore seated next to each other. Having realised that it’s actually a good thing to see each other now, to put paid to any residual feelings of attraction we might once have shared, I’m pleased.
As we all begin to speak to our neighbours at the table, Maxim interrupts us, with a lot more instructions for us.
Just as I’m reflecting that, while good-intentioned, he’s fairly pompous, Flavia whispers to me, ‘He issosweet. It’s so lovely that he’s so keen for us all to have such a good time. I feel like we’re going to get a little irritated, though, by all therules.’
‘No bad thing to have rules in place when you’re herding twelve people around,’ I point out. ‘As long as they’re reasonable. Sweet, though? Really?’
Flavia shakes her head. ‘Sweet, yes. Rules, no.’
‘Agree to differ,’ I say, not agreeing at all.
Maxim had already taken our orders, when we were gathered in the hotel foyer, and messaged them through, to prevent delay, and our food arrives quickly.
I’ve ordered steak with a quinoa salad. Flavia has ordered a pile of American-style pancakes with a berry compote and a lot of cream, all slathered in maple syrup.
