by Lacey London
‘Great! So, when do we leave?’ The intercom buzzes loudly and Noah struggles to get down, resorting to screeching like a hyena when he doesn’t get his own way.
‘Tomorrow.’ Oliver shouts over his shoulder as he races into the living room.
Leaving him to answer the intercom, I toss a few random toys back into the toy chest and try to coax Noah into helping. Clearly not wanting to tidy away his mess, Noah shoots me a frown before returning to his train.
‘That was your parents.’ Batting his way through the sea of balloons, Oliver grabs a cupcake from the stand and devours it in one bite.
‘Oliver!’ Slapping him on the arm, I shake my head furiously. ‘They’re for the guests.’
Choosing to completely ignore me, he grabs another and bops Noah on the head with a balloon. Before I have the chance to scold him again there’s a knock at the door. Straightening out my outfit, I have a final scan of the room before pressing my eye to the peep hole.
‘Hi!’ Swinging open the door, my mouth stretches into a smile as my good friends, the Lakes, hold out a bag of presents. ‘Thank you for coming!’
Eve throws her toned arms around my neck and plants a hot pink kiss on my cheek. ‘You’re welcome. Although we did have to come such a long way for this…’
Flashing me a wink, she hands me the gifts and squeezes inside. As the Lakes live in the apartment below ours, this is a joke I hear a lot. In a strange twist of fate, this isn’t the first time that Owen and Eve have been our neighbours. A couple of years ago, Oliver and I decided to give up city living and move out to the suburbs, which is where we met the Lakes. After a turbulent few months, we returned to London with our new friends in tow and over the past two years we have become closer than ever. Accepting a double kiss from Owen, I am about to shut the door when I spot my parents stepping out of the lift. My mum’s peroxide pixie crop is even brighter than it was the last time I saw her and clashes violently with her coral lipstick. Honestly, my mother must have had more hairstyles than Nicky Clarke himself. Raising my hand in acknowledgment, I purse my lips as she lifts her dress to reveal her horrendous new inking. Not surprisingly, the disgust on my face is clear to see.
‘Oh, lighten up, Clara!’ She laughs heartily and squeezes my arm. ‘It’s just a tattoo!’
Not wanting to cause an argument on Noah’s birthday, I decide to keep my opinions to myself. I still blame Janie for all this. From the very day that my mum was introduced to my mother-in-law, everything about her started to change. Slowly but surely, the woman that I grew up with transformed into a garish and dare I say it, rather glamorous grandma. Honestly, when I think back to my childhood, the memories of my mother couldn’t be more different to the woman that stands before me today. Believe it or not, Rosemary Andrews was a twinset and pearls kind of lady. Not a day went by that her nail polish didn’t match her handbag. Hard to believe now, isn’t it?
Allowing my dad to pull me into a bear hug, I choose to ignore my mother’s remarks and usher them inside.
‘G-ma!’ Noah yells, taking a running jump at my mum, his little face alight with joy.
No matter how annoyed I get with my mother, seeing her with Noah always makes my heart melt. I never had that kind of emotional connection with her as a young girl, so I’m secretly overjoyed that at least Noah can benefit from her personality transplant. Excusing myself to get drinks for the adults, I slip away whilst Oliver entertains our guests. It might be only midday, but it’s never too early for a Mimosa in my book. Let’s face it, it is wine o’clock somewhere in the world. Digging out the bubbles, I watch my family rejoice happily and take in the scene in front of me. A gorgeous husband, a loving family, fabulous friends and a beautiful, bounding baby. Happy birthday, Noah Morgan.
* * *
‘I can’t see anything!’ Lianna yells. ‘Don’t you dare blow out those candles without me!’
Fiddling with the iPad, I let out a cheer as Li’s familiar face flashes up on the screen. Her long blonde locks are twisted up into a messy bun on the top of her head and her once pale skin has an incredible tan. I hate to admit it, but she looks absolutely fantastic.
‘You look amazing!’ I shout above the noise of the party, straining my ears to hear her response.
‘Well, duh!’ Pursing her lips, she winks cheekily and moves out of the sun’s glare. ‘Where’s the birthday boy?’
With two dozen kids running around the place it sounds like a zoo at feeding time. Taking hold of the iPad, I squeeze through the rabble of children and scoop up Noah. Not being too happy at being dragged away from his friends, he lets out a scream before breaking into a smile when he realises who’s on the screen.
‘Li-Li!’ He screams, grabbing the device and planting several sloppy kisses on the monitor.
‘Happy birthday, Noah! Did you get lots of presents?’
Nodding furiously, he proceeds to show Lianna his collection of new toys. From Lego sets to books and cuddly bears, I think it’s safe to say that he now has half a toy store piled up in his playroom. Just as I thought, the dinosaur went down a treat. I don’t actually think I’ve seen him without the cute little thing since he tore the wrapping paper off it earlier. Dodging a flock of hyper kids, I scoop up Melrose, Gina’s youngest, as she trips over a pile of gift bags and lands on the floor with a bump. Quickly rubbing her knee, I hand her over to Gina before she can let out an almighty scream.
After showing Lianna every gift twice over, Noah hands me back the iPad and points to the cake animatedly. Right on cue, Oliver whistles loudly and the room falls into silence.
‘Alright, guys!’ Dimming the lights, he proceeds to light the huge number two candle as a buzz of excitement rushes around the room.
Gathering together the children, I place Lianna on the work top and get my camera ready. Not one to shy away from the attention, Noah claps his hands together and allows Oliver to lift him up to the cake as the rest of us burst into song. His little face turns red as he tries and fails to blow out the candle. With a little help from Oliver, he finally manages to defeat the flame and the room falls into darkness. Letting out a cheer I snap away with my camera, not stopping until I have captured a shot of each and every guest.
‘Bloody hell, Andrews!’ Marc shields his eyes from the bright flash and shakes his head in an attempt to regain his sight.
Andrews is my maiden name and even though Oliver and I have been married for years, Marc refuses to call me anything else. From making fun of my dating disasters to helping me home after one too many vodka shots, Marc really is the big sister that I never had. Turning the camera around for a selfie, I pull him towards me and ruffle his perfect comb over, which I know grinds his gears more than anything else. Yes, Marc is one of those modern metrosexual men who spend more time in the bathroom than us girls. Snatching the camera out of my hands, Marc pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and frowns at the screen. Taking it back before he can delete it, I stick my tongue out and run away.
The birthday boy is being passed from pillar to post and I can’t help but notice that Lianna has been handed to my mother, who is delighting in revealing her new tattoo. In true Lianna fashion, she makes all the right noises and nods approvingly. Deciding to save her from my mother for fear of what she will show her next, I smile apologetically at my mum and take the iPad. Sneaking into the sanctuary of the bathroom, I close the door behind me and perch on the edge of the huge roll top bath.
‘What the hell was that?’ Lianna clasps her hands to her face as her jaw drops open.
‘Exactly what it looked like!’ Raising my eyebrows, I shake my head and frown, feeling more than a little embarrassed at my mum’s behaviour. ‘She might think it’s cool right now, but just give it a few years and she’ll regret it. I know she will. Can you imagine what that thing will look like when she’s old and wrinkly?’
‘She’s already old and wrinkly!’ Lianna fires back, not missing a beat.
Letting out a snigger, I put my finger to my lip
s in a bid to keep her voice down. ‘I’ll tell her you said that!’
Li lets out a giggle and turns the screen around to reveal the incredible Barbados beach that I know and love. Letting out a jealous whimper, I stick out my bottom lip and take in the amazing backdrop. The fabulous Caribbean sunshine bounces off the water, creating a dazzling display of light. Looking out at the grey London sky, I remind myself that I am flying to Florida tomorrow and a frisson of excitement bubbles in the pit of my stomach.
‘So, what’s new with you?’ Li’s voice pops my thought bubble, bringing me back to reality with a thud. ‘Any gossip?’
‘Actually, there is…’ I flash her a cheesy grin and wag my finger knowingly. ‘We’re going on holiday tomorrow!’
She gasps and drops down onto the sand. ‘Since when?’
‘Since Janie sent us tickets to Orlando…’
‘That’s amazing!’ Her tanned face breaks into a huge grin. ‘Awwh! Noah will love it! Make sure you take a million pictures. I want to see everything!’
‘I will, don’t worry.’
After discussing her latest celebrity sightings in The Hangout, I promise to send her photos every day and say my goodbyes before slipping back into the party.
‘Where have you been?’ A very flustered Oliver asks as he chops up cake and distributes it into printed napkins. ‘Can you give me a hand here?’
Taking the knife from him, I slice up the remainder and proceed to hand it around the room. A dozen sticky fingers jump up at me, each one demanding to get the biggest slice. Within seconds the plate is empty and the kids scurry away to devour their sweet treat like a pack of hungry wolves. Glad of the peace and quiet, I abandon the plate and check if anyone needs a refill. Hosting really isn’t as easy as Nigella makes it look.
‘Anyone for a top-up?’ Popping my head into my circle of friends, I flash them a smile and squeeze onto the couch.
‘I’ll take another.’ Eve holds out her glass and winks, her blue eyes sparkling like the huge diamond on her finger.
‘Me too.’ My mother pipes up, downing the last of her Mimosa in one rather unladylike gulp.
Collecting their glasses, I push myself to my feet and walk into the kitchen, not realising that Gina is behind me with birthday cake down her leopard print shirt.
‘What happened?’ I ask, handing her a tea towel.
‘Melrose…’ Rubbing at the stain furiously, Gina lets out a few curse words and slumps against the fridge with a sigh. ‘I need a holiday.’ She grumbles, running her fingers through her tangled black hair.
‘You guys have just had a holiday!’ Pouring out the bubbles, I push her out of the way to put the bottle back into the fridge.
‘I don’t think four nights in Cornwall with three hyper kids really counts as a holiday.’ Grabbing a glass before I have the chance to put any orange in, she takes a sip and scowls. ‘Plus it rained the entire time that we were there!’
Not wanting to tell her about our last minute trip in case I put her nose out of joint, I decide to keep schtum and join her in a glass of fizz. I am making a mental note of everything that I need to pack when Madison squeezes through the crowd and throws herself at Gina’s legs.
‘I want to go on a plane!’ She wails, her chubby cheeks turning a rather worrying shade of purple.
Oh, God. Great timing, Madison.
‘Maybe next year…’ Gina grumbles, trying to palm her off with yet more cake.
‘Not next year! I want to go now! Now! Now! Now!’ Stamping her feet, Madison proceeds to shout until Gina crouches down to her level.
‘You, young lady, are heading right for the naughty step!’ Trying to get her to calm down, she succeeds only in making her scream ten times louder.
Resorting to throwing her over her shoulder, Gina lets out an embarrassed laugh and disappears into my bedroom. Stifling a laugh, I smile apologetically at the mums from playgroup who are obviously perturbed at Madison’s diva like behaviour.
‘Where’s my Mimosa?’ My mother yells from across the room, holding her hands to her throat as though she is going to die from dehydration.
That woman gets more like Janie every day. Shaking my head at her demands, I manage to clutch three glasses at once and get them through the crowds of children without spilling a single drop. Score. Before I can bring the glass to my lips, Noah lets out a wail to rival Madison’s. Someone once told me that you know you’re a mother when you can hear a child scream from three rooms away, but you can be three streets away and still hear Noah when he decides to throw a tantrum. Thankfully, Oliver gets there first and beckons me to follow him into the playroom.
‘I think he’s tired.’ I take off his jumper and hold him on my lap. ‘Balloons, birthday cake and a room full of people is a lot to take in when you’re just two years old.’ Planting a kiss on his head, I rock him back and forth until his eyes start to close.
‘Did you tell Madison about Orlando?’ I whisper, once I am confident that Noah is drifting off.
‘No, I told Marc and he told Madison.’ Oliver mumbles, picking up a toy car and running it across the carpet.
‘Why would he do that?’ I shake my head at his stupidity and lay Noah out on the couch.
‘Beats me…’ Oliver crashes down in a chair opposite and lets out a yawn.
‘Err, what the hell are you doing?’ I hiss.
‘Taking a nap.’ He closes his eyes and gets comfortable. ‘I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a little while.’
‘Oi! There’s two dozen people out there!’ Kicking his legs playfully, I tickle him until he stands up. ‘Let’s just get through this afternoon and then we have seven whole days of relaxation to look forward to.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’ He lets out a little laugh and rubs my shoulders. ‘If you think Orlando is about calm and relaxation, you are going to be majorly disappointed.’ Firing him a confused look, I pause at the door and wait for him to elaborate. ‘Adrenaline and adventure, yes. Massages and margaritas, not so much.’
Determined to prove him wrong, I push my way back into the kitchen. As far as I’m concerned, Orlando involves juicy cheeseburgers, abundant sunshine and some of the world’s best rollercoasters. Now tell me, what could possibly be stressful about that?
Stress really doesn’t go with my outfit…
Chapter 4
‘I don’t understand.’ I stammer, trying to process what the airport assistant has been attempting to tell me for the past thirty minutes. ‘How? How can that even happen?’
I don’t actually believe what I am hearing here. Smiling apologetically, he shrugs his shoulders and continues to talk, but the sound of my heart pounding in my ears drowns out his every word. After a long haul flight with a two-year-old who howled like an angry wolf for the entire journey, this is the last thing I need. Of the millions of cases that arrive at airports all over the world on a daily basis, what are the odds that it’s ours that have gone bloody missing?
‘When can this be resolved?’ Oliver asks, handing over Noah and attempting to take control of the situation.
Shaking my head furiously, I take Noah by the hand and weave through crowds of happy people. Thankfully he is so consumed by his dinosaur to even notice the chaos that is going on around him. Whilst everyone else floats through the airport on cloud nine just itching to start their holiday, I take a seat on a rather lonely looking bench and try to calm my racing heart. Our cases are lost. Lost. I watched them being loaded onto the plane back in London and now they have gone. Unless they have vanished into thin air or someone is walking around Orlando in my precious Marc Jacobs sandals, I fail to understand what the hell has happened.
My brow furrows into a frown as I get more and more agitated with every passing second. Eyeing up a passer-by’s very cute dress, I shoot her a suspicious look as she slips on a pair on sunglasses which are incredibly similar to mine. Before I can accuse a complete stranger of stealing my designer sunnies, I spot Oliver making his way over to us.
Squeezing past a mob of excited children, he catches my eye and shakes his head. I can tell from the pained expression on his face that he hasn’t got good news.
‘Well?’ I ask, trying to stop Noah from tearing up a bunch of theme park pamphlets. ‘What did they say?’
Scratching his beard, he stuffs some paperwork into my handbag and exhales loudly. ‘Our cases are on their way to California.’
‘What?’ My mind goes into overdrive as I try to work out if he’s joking. ‘You have to be kidding me.’
‘Definitely not kidding. Someone at the airport labelled them incorrectly and they’ve stayed on the connecting flight.’ Picking up Noah and heading for the exit, he motions for me to follow him. ‘They’re going to get them back to us by Wednesday at the latest.’
‘Wednesday!’ My voice is ten decibels higher than I intend it be and as a result people are starting to stare. ‘Oliver! We can’t wait until Wednesday!’
‘Come on, Clara. It’s just a couple of days…’
‘But we don’t have any clothes!’ Cutting him off mid-sentence, I try not to have a complete melt down. ‘What are we going to wear? My swimsuits! My shoes! Oh, God!’ A wave of horror washes over me. ‘My make-up!’
‘Can we please just get to the hotel?’ Spinning around to face me, he shoots me a glare that tells me to pull myself together. ‘Please?’
Not wanting to cause even more of a scene, I bite my lip and scurry after him. This cannot be happening. I was already questioning our decision to come out here and now this whole lost suitcase debacle is about to push me over the edge. To be completely honest, this trip has been a total nightmare since we left the house this morning. From the taxi not turning up on time to the flight being delayed and Noah throwing an almighty tantrum the whole way here, absolutely nothing has gone according to plan.
A young family skips past us, racing one another to the exit in a flurry of excitement. Watching them laugh and giggle as they wait for their grandparents to catch up, I try to look on the bright side. I guess it’s not quite the end of the world that we’re going to have to go forty-eight hours without our belongings. Without our toothbrushes, our underwear or any of our other daily essentials… Eeek! I’m trying to be positive, but my stomach churns at the very thought.
