Yes, that’s it, very normal.
Callum folds his silly strong arms in front of his body and skewers me with a gaze so penetrating that I couldn’t move if I tried. He looks like he’s trying to understand what’s going on inside my head, which is fair, I guess. I am behaving somewhat like an odd bod.
‘Right,’ he says eventually. ‘And how many other famous physicists have you come up with?’
Balls.
As a stalling tactic, I pretend to urgently search for something in my bag while ordering my brain to come up with more options. There must be some. I can practically hear my mum shouting: ‘Did you learn nothing at school, Nina Moss?’ As I fake rummage, my travel toothbrush comes loose from my cosmetic bag and falls to the floor.
Of course, gravity!
‘Isaac Newton,’ I blurt out proudly. Is gravity physics? Honestly eff knows at this point but I have just named another revered scientist so ha, Callum, ha.
‘And Stephen Hawking!’
Christ, I’m on a roll. I must add this new-found knowledge to my CV in case anyone wants a physics-themed party organizing in the future. There have been stranger requests than that, let me tell you.
Callum looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he scoops down and picks up my toothbrush.
‘Thanks,’ I say, about to put it back in my bag.
But he’s still holding on to one end.
‘I’m not sure you can use that now it’s been on the airport floor,’ he says.
‘Obviously not,’ I grunt, even though I might have been about to do exactly that. ‘I’ll put it in a bin when I see one. What must you think of me!’
It’s my turn to fold my arms and I pull out my phone as a clear signal that our conversation is over. Trust Callum to cast aspersions on my levels of dental hygiene, I think irritably. I’m a flosser! I mouthwash after lunch!
‘Did you say something?’ Callum asks as we wait for our bags to come through the scanners.
And, in truth, I possibly did mutter the words ‘stupid swine’ under my breath as he stepped out of the body scanner. But do I admit that to him? No, I do not.
Well. Walking upstairs on an Airbus is the single fanciest thing I’ve ever done. This is a moment. I’m trying not to gawp as Callum and I are ushered towards our seats but it’s not easy, and I end up skipping to my seat like Winnie-the-Pooh headed straight for a jar of honey.
I say seat but it’s more of a pod. My fingers flutter as I wonder where to begin. Rifle through my own personal bag filled with tiny toiletries? Poke at the buttons which control my desired level of lighting? Flip out the foot rest in front of me? Is it too soon to crank this seat back into bed position?
My eyes are wide as I take in this taste of a life miles from my own. Everything is so plush! My gaze moves around the cabin, eventually snagging on Callum. Turns out he was already watching me with a smile on his face which he corrects into something more measured the moment I catch his gaze. He’s probablyjudging me for being so awestruck. He just loves to judge. Does he even know that Iknowwhat happened at the office Christmas party? Surely he wouldn’t be looking so pleased with himself if he did. Just look at him now, so at ease. So at home in this space. No doubt he travels like this all the time, with his perfectly puttogether outfits and impressive hair.
My mood threatens to darken but I won’t let Callum Bang spoil this indulgent flight. Besides, there’s even more space between me and him up here. Yes, we’re still next to each other, but the pods are huge.
A flute of champagne is offered and I accept it with an open heart. Why not?! I’m also handed a lavender-scented hot towel, like I’m a guest at Meghan Sussex’s Montecito mansion, which I press into my neck.
This is the life!
Turns out I’m still doing that gawping and grinning combo because the next thing I know, a woman in the row behind has caught my eye. She looks very business class. A perfectly styled bouncy blonde hair cut, sunglasses still on, cable-knit V-neck sweater that probably cost more than a month’s rent on my flat.
‘I like your outfit,’ she says in a clipped European accent. ‘Black is always chic.’
‘Oh! Thank you. It was twenty quid from Sainsbury’s.’
She gives me a look which suggests I might be speaking in a different language.
As I turn to face forward, I find Callum smirking at me.
‘Dearly beloved,’ he mutters under his breath.
‘I beg your pardon?’
