As Luck Would Have It

by Zoe May

  ‘Yeah, that would be great, thanks,’ I reply, letting him help me position the heavy bag in the boot. I actually don’t mind accepting help from men, I think it’s good manners, but when an offer of help comes from Will, my instinct is to reject it like a stroppy teenager. I should really try to be a little nicer to him. He probably needs this holiday just as much as me what with his divorce and redundancy, I muse, as the cab driver tucks a trailing strap of my bag into the boot.

  ‘Got anything else or is that it?’ he asks.

  ‘Just one more thing! One second,’ I tell him with a grateful smile, before heading back to the house to get my suitcase. The backpack just contains my swimming pool stuff – my sunglasses, swimsuit, books, sarong, hat, sandals and a few cute kaftans. My suitcase is packed full of all the other things I might need, like hiking boots if I decide to go on a day excursion to the Atlas Mountains as well as jeans, trainers and tops for exploring Marrakech.

  Will and my mum are chatting away about the weather in Marrakech as I approach.

  ‘I hear it can get quite nippy there, even though it’s in Africa! I hope you’ve packed some nice warm clothes,’ my mum’s saying.

  ‘Don’t worry, Pam. I’m prepared for all eventualities,’ Will reassures her.

  ‘I’m sure you are, Will.’ My mum beams at him.

  I ignore them as I slip past and retrieve my suitcase, pulling it down the hall.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to offer to help!’ Will holds his hands up in mock surrender.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I sigh. ‘I could do with a hand, actually.’

  Will frowns, giving me a slightly bemused look, before coming over to help. We load my suitcase into the boot. The driver slaps it closed.

  ‘Ready?’ Will asks.

  ‘Erm … yeah, sorry, I just need to say bye to Hera,’ I tell him, feeling a twinge of panic as I say the words out loud. Leaving my baby behind feels so unnatural that it makes me nervous.

  ‘Go for it,’ Will says, smiling sweetly.

  I rush upstairs and tiptoe into Hera’s room, making sure I’m extra quiet so I don’t wake her. I’ve already said goodbye twice, but of course Will doesn’t know that. Hera’s fast asleep in her cot. She looks adorable. Her little chest is rising and falling under her blanket. Her long lashes rest on her chubby cheeks and she looks totally blissful and content.

  ‘Bye sweetheart, I’ll miss you angel,’ I whisper, gripping the side of her cot.

  I lean over and plant a delicate kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll be back really soon, baby. Be good for Granny. I love you.’

  A lump hardens in my throat. I take a deep shaky breath, willing myself not to cry. The holiday is four nights and five days, which is by far the longest time I’ll have spent away from Hera and if I think too much about it, it seems an unbearably long time. It’s better to just remind myself that she’ll be with her granny who adores her and it’s only a week. It could be a lot worse. It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, I tell myself as I take one last look at Hera, and place Mr Bear right next to her, before slipping out of her room and gently closing the door behind me.

  My mum’s beginning to look a little chilly now, clutching her kimono around her waist as the cool night air sweeps down the hall. She and Will have moved on from discussing the weather to comparing opinions on different types of tagines. My mum isn’t a big fan of lamb tagine, apparently.

  ‘How’s Hera?’ my mum asks as I approach.

  ‘Sleeping like a baby,’ I joke.

  Will laughs, while my mum just half-smiles, having heard my joke before.

  ‘Right, are you ready?’ Will asks in an upbeat voice that doesn’t quite conceal the concern in his eyes. It’s as though he can sense how on edge leaving Hera is making me.

  ‘Yeah.’ I nod, smiling despite the nervous feeling in my stomach. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Great,’ Will says, his expression relaxing. ‘Let’s go.’

  I turn to give my mum a hug, pulling her close.

  ‘Have a brilliant time, love,’ she says. ‘Enjoy yourself, really.’ She fixes me with a sincere look. ‘And don’t worry about Hera, she’s going to be fine.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks Mum.’

  I give her another squeeze before turning to leave.

  ‘Bye Pam,’ Will says, pulling my mum in for a hug. I raise an eyebrow, watching them. They’ve barely seen each other for sixteen years and yet apparently, they’re on hugging terms.

  ‘Bye Will,’ my mum says.

  I grab my handbag and we head out to the car. We hop in, waving over our shoulder as we close the doors. My mum waves back as the taxi pulls away from the kerb. I watch her as we drive away, until she’s nearly out of sight and I can just about make out her closing the door. I think of Hera again while I fasten my seatbelt and feel a little stab in my heart at the thought of her sleeping in her little cot, soon to be a whole continent away from me.

  ‘So, a romantic getaway for two, eh? Excited?’ Will asks, interrupting my ruminative thoughts.

  ‘Oh please, you’re as bad as my mum,’ I groan, as I adjust my seatbelt and try to get comfortable.

  ‘Ha ha. At least someone appreciates me,’ Will says, smirking.

  I eye him, taking in his face, which looks pale in the darkness. His eyes sparkle with humour even in the greyish light.

  ‘I’m sure lots of women appreciate you, Will, I’m sure they’re highly appreciative,’ I say with a wry smile, before looking over my shoulder at my road, my baby, retreating into the distance.

  ‘Lots of women? Care to introduce me because I’m not aware of them,’ Will huffs.

  ‘Really?’ I mean, Will’s hot. Despite my conflicted feelings about him, he’s objectively very good-looking, and he’s intelligent and charming, of course he’d get attention.

  ‘Hardly,’ Will scoffs.

  ‘So aren’t you seeing anyone?’ I ask. I don’t mean to sound like I’m interested, because I’m not! I’m really not, and yet, in spite of myself, the question makes me sound so keen.

  Will laughs, smiling to himself. ‘No, I’m not seeing anyone. Anyone at all. I’ve been single for ages, actually. I’ve been focusing on me,’ Will says, slapping his chest where his heart is.

  Focusing on me?! What does he mean? The Will I knew was not the introverted spiritual type.

  ‘Focusing on you?’ I echo.

  ‘Yeah.’ Will shrugs. ‘Like self-care.’

  ‘Self-care?’ I try not to smile. When Lauren was dating the Reiki healer guy, she always used to joke that when he said he was taking some time for ‘self-care’ he meant masturbation.

  ‘Yeah, self-care,’ Will replies simply.

  ‘You don’t mean, like, you know, self-care?’ I raise an eyebrow suggestively, feeling 16 all over again.

  Will shoots me a deadpan stare, his lips twisting into a smirk. ‘No, Natalie,’ he tuts. ‘Not that kind of self-care. I haven’t spent the past year masturbating! Although, to be fair, I have had to engage in a bit of …’ Will scrunches his face up. ‘Do you know what? I’m going to sleep,’ he laughs, bundling his scarf up to form a makeshift pillow.

  ‘Haha, good plan,’ I agree, pulling my scarf off and doing the same.

  I stuff it between my head and the car door.

  ‘Night Natalie,’ Will says, smiling affectionately.

  ‘Night Will,’ I reply, as I rest my head against my scarf

  Chapter 7

  I don’t know if it’s the coffee that Will and I have been mainlining since we arrived at the airport or what, but all of a sudden, I find myself feeling incredibly jittery at the boarding gate.

  The British Airways stewardess takes my passport and frowns at it, looking troubled.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ she says, smiling politely at me, before turning her attention to the computer behind the check-in desk.

  My stomach sinks as she consults the screen and I have a sudden, horrible feeling that the holiday will be called off. It will be found to have bee
n an administrative error or something. Perhaps Mick got confused?! The holiday did seem too good to be true. Maybe his niece Hannah didn’t book it after all. I glance over at Will, giving him a searching look, but he seems equally perplexed. He shrugs, clearly not having a clue what’s going on.

  The stewardess – whose name badge informs me that she’s called Rachel – leans closer to her computer screen and clicks her mouse a few times, until finally, after what feels like forever, she looks back up at me. This time, her frown is replaced by a wide, friendly smile.

  ‘I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve been upgraded to first class!’ she says, as she hands my passport back to me, with my boarding pass.

  ‘Oh wow! First class! That’s amazing, thanks!’ I enthuse, before looking over at Will, who’s looking a little less thrilled.

  ‘So I guess I’ll just be in economy then,’ he grumbles.

  ‘Oh, no, you’ve both been upgraded due to your honeymoon package,’ the stewardess informs us, with a bright smile.

  Honeymoon package? I raise an eyebrow. What’s she talking about? She must have made a mistake, but I’m hardly about to set her straight. I’ve only ever been upgraded once before, years ago, and it was totally brilliant. Worlds away from economy with delicious food, huge seats and free drinks.

  ‘That’s brilliant! How kind of you,’ Will says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him. I smile weakly, even though I can feel my body stiffening. Will doesn’t seem to notice though. He proceeds to rub my arm vigorously and gives me a kiss on the forehead. It’s so cringeworthy that I can’t help but wince.

  ‘Have a wonderful trip,’ Rachel says, glancing over Will’s passport before handing him a boarding pass too.

  ‘Thanks so much!’ Will replies.

  I thank Rachel again and then Will and I head down the passageway to board the plane. Even once we’re far enough away from Rachel that she can no longer see us, Will still has his arm around me.

  ‘Okay!’ I trill, sweeping his hand off my shoulder. ‘You can drop the honeymoon act now!’

  ‘I was just trying to be authentic,’ Will insists.

  I roll my eyes indulgently. ‘It’s not like they’re going to take our first-class tickets away from us because we’re not tactile enough!’

  ‘Okay, fine!’ Will says, taking a step away from me. ‘We can be a cold miserable couple instead. The kind that never touches each other.’

  ‘Good! Remember, we’re not actually a couple,’ I remind him.

  ‘I know!’

  ‘This is going to happen everywhere isn’t it?’ I sigh, pulling my suitcase over a bump on the concourse.

  Will gives me a questioning look.

  ‘This whole couple thing. Do you think everyone’s going to assume we’re a couple?’

  ‘Probably!’ Will says with a cheeky grin as we approach the plane entrance. He’s clearly quite enjoying pretending to me my husband.

  The air hostess smiles broadly as we reach the entrance of the plane and takes our boarding passes.

  ‘This way, please,’ she says, guiding us to the left.

  It feels odd to be taking a left in a plane, rather than going right towards economy. I look over at Will and we exchange an excited glance.

  The air hostess, a pretty redhead wearing diamond stud earrings whose name badge reads ‘Victoria’, shows us to our seats. The seats in first class are detached with their own armrests and footrests, and they all have a window view. They look a hell of a lot more comfortable than the squashed seats of economy. I’d never pay for first class myself – as nice as it is, it does feel like quite an indulgent expense.

  ‘This will be your seat, madam,’ Victoria says, smiling warmly as she gestures towards my wide comfy-looking chair.

  ‘Thank you!’ I reply. That’s another thing you don’t get in economy – being shown to your seat.

  ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t seat you next to each other, but we have another seat just two down,’ Victoria explains ruefully. I’d just assumed, since the airline seems to view us as a honeymooning couple, we’d be seated together.

  ‘Oh, that’s more than okay,’ I reply effusively, before taking in my wide, comfortable-looking seat with a fold-out screen for watching the on-flight entertainment. Perfect! This is the life!

  I stash my bag in the overhead compartment, then I look over my shoulder to see Will being shown to his seat.

  ‘Wait!’ A middle-aged businessman sitting in the seat next to me, pipes up. He seems to have noticed me looking over at Will.

  ‘You can sit here,’ he says, turning to Will. ‘Why don’t we swap? I don’t mind!’ He moves to get up.

  Really?’ Will asks hopefully.

  ‘Of course,’ the businessman replies. ‘It makes no difference to me and if you two are together …’

  ‘Great, thanks!’ Will enthuses.

  ‘Great!’ I echo weakly, before checking my manners and thanking the man for his kind gesture.

  But seriously, it’s like the universe is conspiring for Will and I to be as intimate as possible. Just when I thought I’d be able to have a few hours of peace, maybe get a little more sleep, Will is going to be sitting right next to me and not only sitting next to me, but he’s going to be sitting next to me pretending to be my husband. Fabulous.

  ‘Hey wifey,’ Will says as he swaps places with the businessman.

  ‘Hey hubs,’ I reply sardonically as I sit down and press the recline button on my chair.

  ‘They must think you’re one of those progressive women who doesn’t take her husband’s name,’ Will comments, looking at his name on his boarding pass.

  ‘Well, to be fair, if I was married to you, I probably wouldn’t have taken your name,’ I point out.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Brimble.’

  ‘Natalie Brimble.’ I try the name out, saying it aloud, as though it’s the first time I’ve ever done that. In fact, I feel like I’ve just gone back in time. I used to try the name ‘Natalie Brimble’ out loud all the time when I was in my bedroom as teenager, writing it in my diary surrounded by hearts.

  ‘Natalie Brimble is a fine name,’ Will insists.

  ‘Ha, I prefer mine.’

  ‘Suit yourself, Miss Jackson,’ Will jokes as he sits down after stuffing his bag into the overhead compartment.

  Natalie Jackson. I used to think my name was a bit ordinary, but over the years, it’s grown on me. I named my PR agency after myself – Natalie Jackson PR – not because I’m self-obsessed or anything, but because I couldn’t think of a better name and I thought it sounded quite professional. Plus, people tend to trust businesses more when the founder is willing to back it with their own name and reputation. Or at least that’s the idea. Over the years, Natalie Jackson has become more than just my name, it’s my brand too. Natalie Brimble sounds funny in comparison, even if I did used to love it.

  I start scrolling through oi-flight entertainment to distract myself from pondering my marital name anymore. I really am beginning to feel 16 again. The plane is filling up with jet-setting holiday-goers and weary-looking businessmen taking to their seats. They don’t seem in the least bit excited to be flying first class. They probably got used to it a long time ago and now it’s routine for them. I watch as a few of them slide their bags into the overhead compartments. One guy looks tired and a bit stressed and immediately settles into his seat. He drapes a blanket over his body and puts on a sleeping mask, clearly determined to get some rest. Another guy retrieves a computer case from his luggage and pulls out a Mac. Will and I are like kids in the cinema, choosing what to watch, while these guys are either catching up on sleep or work.

  Everyone eventually gets settled and Victoria informs us of the safety precautions, advising us to inflate the flimsy-looking life jackets in the event of an emergency landing. I eye the tiny life jacket that looks like it would barely keep you afloat in a paddling pool let alone save your life in the Mediterranean Sea. I feel a nervous tr
emor as I imagine the plane crashing and Hera growing up motherless. Oh God. What if she grows up telling her friends that Mummy died while gallivanting off on a romantic getaway with her long-lost childhood flame?! What kind of mother would do that? Arghh! Fortunately, the moment the safety precautions are over, Victoria instructs us to fasten our seatbelts for take-off and it all happens so quickly that my nerves are replaced by adrenaline.

  With a lurch, the plane begins to rumble before picking up speed and gliding down the runway. Then it takes off, parting with the land, and my stomach does a little flip as we soar into the sky. I gaze in wonder as we sweep over the suburban houses far below. I gaze out of the window, watching the streets, cars and homes retreating from view.

  My thoughts turn to our destination.

  I look over at Will, who is now checking out the plane’s film selection. ‘What do you think Marrakech will be like? It’ll be nice, won’t it?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh yeah, it’s fine.’ Will shrugs. ‘I mean, obviously after the Arab Spring, things got a bit dicey there for a while, but it was okay as long as you stuck with people you trusted and listened to the government’s travel advice.’

  ‘Right …’ I reply, a little taken aback. ‘So you’ve been before? After the Arab Spring?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Will says casually, as he flicks past a rom-com from the plane’s movie selection. ‘Several times.’

  ‘You kept that quiet!’

  ‘Well, I haven’t been on a romantic getaway or anything like that,’ Will says, looking over, a smile playing on his lips. ‘I was just there for work. Reporting on the suicide bombing in the main square back in 2011. In and out. I never really got to explore or do any of the touristy things. I didn’t really get to see the best side of Marrakech. I’ve never been there to just relax and unwind. It’ll be nice to see that side of it, see what it’s all about.’

  ‘Of course,’ I reply, still taking in this new information. ‘I can’t believe you’ve already been to Marrakech. Wow!’

  ‘Yep!’ Will replies, selecting an action film to watch.

  I watch him, reassessing a little bit. I knew Will was a journalist, but somehow, I didn’t think he did actual reporting. I thought he was too senior for that and I just assumed other people would be running around chasing the stories while Will spent his time in a cushy London office, making the odd TV appearance here and there. Now I realise that I was wrong. Will went all the way to Marrakech to report on a bombing. That takes balls.