A Twist of Fate

by Demelza Hart

My mother swallowed and held my arm. ‘No, sorry, darling, you’re right.’ She pulled me in for another hug, which I gratefully returned. I was used to my parents’ devotion to my ex. I wondered how much of my decision to go back to him stemmed from them.

  ‘Come on then, Callie. Let’s take you home.’ I felt my father’s guiding hand on my elbow. I looked over for Paul. He glanced up at me.

  ‘Just a moment.’

  As I walked towards him, he stood up.

  ‘I’m off then,’ I said, not sure what to do with my hands.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Thanks for … you know, saving my life and all that.’

  ‘Yeah, well, thanks for … all that. Here. My number. I’d like you to ring me sometime. I’d like that a lot.’ He handed me a slip of paper. I took it with a sigh.

  ‘Paul …’

  There was a silence. I could feel the watery grey eyes of his father on me. Eventually, Paul held out his hand. ‘Bye then, Callie.’

  I wanted to hold him, hug him, kiss him. But I just took his hand and shook it as if we’d concluded a business deal. ‘Bye, Paul.’

  And then I left in the bustle of my parents and my CISD officer.

  Nine

  The counsellor – Anna, this time – would be staying over for a few days until she was satisfied I wasn’t going to ‘do something silly’, as my mother put it. What? Dress up as Dolly Parton and go strutting down the High Street singing ‘9 to 5’? No, not that kind of silly, my mother tutted. My father smiled softly, all the while looking out of the window.

  I was feeling at home already.

  It was wonderful to lie in my old bed, wonderful to feel the gentle nuzzle of the dog’s head in my lap, wonderful to hear the familiar chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall. I really had survived, and I’d longed for it. But after my first night’s sleep, I awoke restless already. Something was missing. I knew what it was – or rather, who it was – but wouldn’t allow myself to admit it.

  Just after eight, my phone rang. I picked it up, half hoping it was Paul, but then, how could it be? He’d given me his number, I hadn’t given him mine. I saw the display: Rupert.

  I waited to feel excited when he rang, the way I did at university. I didn’t. I fixed my face into a smile before I pressed ‘accept’, hoping that the false happiness would spread to my voice.

  ‘Hello!’ I said, a little over-enthusiastically.

  ‘Callie, oh God, Callie, thank God you’re back.’

  I laughed brightly. ‘Yup.’

  ‘I just … God, I can’t tell you what hell I was in those few days.’

  ‘It must have been very awful. Worse for the families of those who didn’t make it.’ A lurch took hold of my stomach. They’d warned me about survivor’s guilt. So far, my confusion over Paul had helped dissipate it.

  ‘But you’re back. I’ve got you back.’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘Callie?’ he said after a time, a slight anxiety in his voice.

  ‘Hm?’ I tried to sound nonchalant.

  ‘When can I see you?’

  ‘Umm …’ I didn’t know what to say. It hit me forcefully for the first time since coming back – I didn’t want to see him. I had no wish whatsoever to see him. ‘I’ve got various CISD things to deal with. Maybe in a day or so, Ru.’

  ‘OK. I understand.’

  He spent a lot of time doing that – understanding. At least he told me he understood, frequently. He worked so hard at understanding that the effort drained me almost as much as the positive effect of it.

  ‘I’ll give you a call later, Ru.’

  ‘Fine. You all right, Callie?’

  ‘I think so, but, well, you know … I just survived a plane crash.’

  He laughed to cover his ridiculous question, born out of our awkward silence.

  ‘Have you had the press asking questions?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  Well, that was something, at least. They hadn’t cottoned onto him yet.

  ‘My mum’s calling me. I’d better go,’ I lied. My mother was out walking the dogs. I could see her from the window.

  ‘OK. Call later. L –’ He stopped himself short. We used to end phone calls without endless declarations of love. ‘Bye, Callie.’

  ‘Bye!’ I ended on the same effusively cheery note I’d started with and hung up immediately, guilt knocking me back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. I was grateful when, shortly after, my father called up to tell me Anna wanted a chat.

  The first few counselling sessions took place at home, and Anna expressed satisfaction early on. She said there was little to indicate that I could not return to a ‘normal’ life as soon as possible. I was relieved I didn’t have to worry about going back to work for a while, but at the same time, I didn’t want to stick around my parents’ house for too much longer. My mother wouldn’t countenance me going back to my flat in Chiswick for at least two weeks, and I was happy to indulge her for that time. Anna only stayed for two days and I started to venture out occasionally, leaving through the back, unnoticed. Along with the counselling, there were further discussions with air accident investigators. I felt hopelessly inadequate, although they assured me that my information was very valuable.

  Once I’d settled in, Anna mentioned the media. They were waiting. I knew they’d been camped outside for days, but I’d stayed near the back of the house and been untouched by it. To be honest, I was curious. Three days after returning home, I was ready.

  ‘Can I just invite them in here for an interview or two?’

  ‘You can do that, but there are an awful lot,’ Anna pointed out.

  ‘But can’t I give an exclusive to one organisation?’

  ‘You could, but it’s probably best to give a press conference and just get it over and done with for everyone. They’ll want both of you, of course.’

  ‘Both? What, with my mum?’

  Anna laughed. ‘No … you and Paul Mason.’

  ‘Oh, right. Hasn’t he done his own interviews?’

  ‘No, he’s refusing.’

  ‘Oh. Why’s that?’

  She shrugged. ‘He just isn’t interested. Wants to get back to his job. He went into his office yesterday, apparently. But, I have to tell you that there is a financial incentive to this. If both of you do it, you’ll go a lot of the way to having a monetary cushion after what’s happened.’

  ‘I’m not bothered about money, and he won’t be either.’

  ‘I know it sounds mercenary but it’s worth considering. And they won’t leave you alone. They want to know the obvious.’

  ‘The obvious?’

  ‘You know … whether anything happened between you two.’

  ‘Me and Paul?’

  ‘Yes.’ At least Anna sounded embarrassed by it. Everyone else had been gleeful in their curiosity.

  I looked away. Part of me wanted to blurt out the truth, but my cautious side took over. I played it safe. ‘We were too busy trying to survive to think about anything like that. We were in shock, and it didn’t take long for the helicopter to arrive.’

  ‘He’s a good-looking guy.’

  ‘I suppose, but … he’s not my type.’

  Anna gave me a sideways glance. ‘That’s what the press will be angling for. You’ll have to be careful.’

  ‘Of course. I’m always careful.’

  My debrief continued, thorough and calmly managed. Apparently, I was coping very well, but the team said they would keep an eye on me for as long as I wanted and gave me lots of numbers to phone and people to contact whenever I felt the need. I was impressed. We arranged a press conference five days after I arrived back. It was to be held in a hotel in central London. Paul had refused to do it. I pretended not to be disappointed. I’d wanted him to move on; he was moving on.

  I had started to watch some news, despite being warned against it. In the process of the debrief I’d been told exactly what had caused the crash – catastrophic engine failure due to adverse electrica
l conditions in the storm. We were the only two survivors. Our positions in the plane had somehow allowed a little pocket where we evaded debris and been cushioned from the impact. We were miracles, and, amidst the disaster – over 300 lives lost – we had become a beacon of light and life. Interest was intense. Our names were well-known, and they had taken my photo from Facebook to use – the one at my brother’s wedding, smiling and clutching a glass of champagne. They hadn’t managed to find a picture of Paul. They only had a fuzzy image of him descending the plane steps, most of his face hidden by the peak of his cap.

  Every news broadcast included something about the crash. I watched with odd disengagement as the images of the lost drifted past me. Were any of them the body I’d discovered in the lagoon? Names upon names of loved ones. It was going to hit hard – survivor’s guilt. How should I survive when so many families had lost someone? But the only thing the families said was how pleased they were that two of us had lived. I couldn’t stand it and turned it off. I wanted to get the news conference over with.

  I awoke feeling sick, but Anna had arranged for a hairdresser and make-up artist to come over before we left, and that managed to turn it into a bit of fun. It was the right thing to do. I was hardly dolled up, but my hair was preened and silked into a glossy, Pippa Middleton sheen, and my make-up gave me a youthful, natural freshness. The sun on the island had caught my skin and given me a warm glow.

  ‘There.’ Jo, the make-up artist, patted my shoulders. ‘You look stunning. The nation’s going to fall in love with you.’

  I gave a nervous little laugh and stared back at myself in the mirror. I hoped Paul would be watching.

  Ten

  We were driven to the hotel where the news conference would take place. The staff stared but smiled. I smiled back and for once allowed myself to enjoy my little brush with celebrity. But immediately, I felt guilty. Perhaps I should be miserable, despondent? Was I allowed to be happy to survive? At eleven, Anna asked if I was ready. I nodded, and the double doors into the conference room were opened.

  Immediately, I was blinded by an onslaught of flashes and shouts.

  ‘Caroline! Caroline! Here, over here! Smile!’

  Anna had told me just to walk to the table and sit down. I did. It seemed much further than the handful of metres it was. I sat and immediately poured a glass of water to steady myself.

  Anna stood up and addressed the reporters. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming this morning. May I introduce Caroline Frobisher, one of the two survivors of the Maldives plane crash on 7th July.’ Anna smiled warmly and turned to look at me. I smiled back. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

  The journalists stood up one by one, introducing themselves and their organisation. I barely processed what they said, although there were several familiar faces from news channels I recognised.

  ‘Caroline, it’s fabulous to have you back with us, looking so well. How did you manage to escape the wreckage?’

  ‘It was all very confusing, as you can imagine. I remember just expecting to die, I suppose. I was almost resigned to it, strangely calm. I knew I was alive and that we were in the water, but I was still strapped in my seat and I was being pulled under. I’m not sure how exactly or where. But Paul somehow managed to undo my seat belt and pull me to the surface, I think.’

  ‘Paul, is that Paul Mason, the other survivor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Mason saved your life?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘You must feel indebted to him.’

  ‘Well, I owe him my life. I do, in a way, but we had time to discuss that on the island.’

  ‘Was there food on the island?’

  ‘Much of the airline’s catering things had washed up. We had plenty.’

  ‘The one time you’ve looked forward to an airline meal?’

  There was awkward laughter. I just smiled.

  ‘Were you worried you wouldn’t be found?’

  ‘I was, to be honest, but Paul knew what to do. He lit a fire and ensured it didn’t go out and assured me that they knew where we’d be. There was a lot of … wreckage.’

  ‘Wreckage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But no other survivors?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you find any bodies from the crash?’

  At this point Anna interrupted. ‘Please could you not ask Miss Frobisher about traumatic memories at this point?’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Frobisher. Did you find yourself relying on Mr Mason’s army experience?’

  I glanced at Anna, she gave me a brief nod to allow me to discuss details of Paul’s life.

  ‘It was comforting to have him around, yes.’

  ‘Did you get on with him when you were stranded?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a very good person.’

  ‘It must have been intense knowing you two were the only survivors?’

  ‘I suppose. We were just relieved to be alive.’

  ‘But you still didn’t know what would happen. You could have been stuck there with only each other for ages.’

  ‘Paul reassured me they’d find us quickly. He was right.’

  ‘You must have felt a strong connection, being in the position you were in?’

  ‘Like I said, we were both just very relieved and trying to survive.’

  A woman from one of the more salacious tabloids stood up with a generous, ingratiating smile. ‘We haven’t got a clear picture of Mr Mason, but from the brief look we got of him at the air field, he’s a very attractive man.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d be flattered to hear that.’

  ‘And you’re a beautiful young woman.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I lowered my head.

  ‘How did you two pass the time alone together?’

  ‘Swam, thought, ate.’

  ‘It must have been tempting to try other things.’

  ‘There wasn’t any Scrabble around as far as I remember.’

  ‘I don’t mean Scrabble. Twister maybe.’ More laughter, spontaneous this time.

  ‘Time went quite quickly.’

  ‘So, a desert island but not a romantic one then?’

  ‘Could we keep questions away from personal speculation please?’ demanded Anna.

  ‘Have you and Mr Mason been involved in debriefing sessions together since arriving back in the UK?’

  ‘No, we’ve done it separately. I haven’t spoken to him for a few days.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He has his own life, I have mine.’

  ‘Would you consider doing a joint interview? Breakfast Time Britain would love to have both of you on the sofa.’

  ‘I … haven’t thought that far ahead.’

  ‘Could you ask Mr Mason? He may listen to you.’

  ‘Could we steer questions back to Ms Frobisher’s experiences, please?’ urged Anna.

  The assembled media were clearly far more interested in my relationship with Paul than what dangerous bugs I may have encountered on the island. They asked a few more about details of the flight and what we used for shelter, but once they’d been headed off asking about any relationship between us, Anna was soon able to draw it to a close.

  ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We hope that that gives you plenty for now and we ask that you now respect Miss Frobisher and Mr Mason’s privacy and let them recover from their ordeal in peace. Good morning.’ With that, she stood up and ushered us off the platform.

  She turned to me once we were away from lenses. ‘Well done, Callie. You spoke fantastically. Sorry that they were so prying.’

  ‘I knew they would be. It would make a good story, I guess – finding love on a desert island.’ It made a good story in my head. One that I hadn’t wanted to end.

  ‘I don’t think they understand what it must have been like for you. I should imagine sex was the last thing on your mind after what you’d been through.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I baulked, exaggerating it and raising my eyebrows to reitera
te my disbelief. I hoped it didn’t sound as false as it felt.

  Anna, unlike her previous counterparts, wasn’t as obsessed about me and Paul as they had been, luckily. She accepted my answer and moved on. ‘Bet you’re glad that’s over with. I can’t say they’ll leave you alone now, I’m afraid, but it should calm things down for a bit. I should imagine they’ll give up camping outside your house for a while.’

  I smile genuinely at her. ‘Thanks for all you’ve done, Anna, you’ve been a star. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  Her calm, no-nonsense approach had been a boon in the days since returning. I had been grateful for her steady presence – if nothing it distilled the flutterings of my mother.

  Eleven

  I’d arranged to meet Rupert after the press conference. We were to go for a drink in his local. I dreaded the media following me there, and did, for once, disguise myself. I tied my hair into a ponytail, and put on sunglasses and a hat.

  When I walked into the pub, even Rupert didn’t recognise me. I took the moment to study him from a distance; his pale, dewy eyes, narrow face, floppy hair which he had a habit of sweeping back from his face with his whole hand. He wore a tailored suit and had come fresh from the City. He was as cute as the day I’d met him, but less effusive, less demonstrative. His easy, slightly awkward charm had worked wonders when I’d first gone to uni, but with age and the cares of employment, he’d reined it in too much.

  I walked up to him. ‘Hi.’

  He looked up, startled. ‘Callie! God, I didn’t see you.’

  He stood immediately and bundled me into a lanky embrace. ‘Oh my God. Thank God.’ I couldn’t tell if he was thanking God for my survival or that I’d actually turned up to meet him.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I brought them tentatively to his back and tensely left my fingers there for a bit, while he held me desperately, breathing heavily against my neck. It reminded me a bit of him after sex, all panting gratitude and heavy limbs. I wanted him to get off me now as I did then.

  I patted his back as a sign that that was enough and pulled away. He smiled – his eyes were indeed damp – and looked into me. ‘Missed you so bloody much, Callie.’