Page 25 of The Lucky Escape

Adapters!

It was a good job I’d remembered. I’d never been to Australia before, so there hadn’t been any Australia-specific plugs in the travel drawer at home. I couldn’t forget to pick one up. Or two. That way Patrick would have one as well.

The Core Four werenotconvinced by the whole Patrick shebang, I think mostly because they worried that they’d never heard of him before now – I mean, why would I ever have mentioned a boy I knew twenty years ago, who I’ve never seen since? – and that somehow he’d taken advantage of me. I saw them for brunch the morning after our old-friend-non-date at mini golf, and they’d seen my face when his email had come through on my phone. I’d felt goodenough earlier that morning that I’d finally turned it on, deleting every text that came through about the wedding without even reading them. I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking about the bloody wedding for a second longer. I had a future, and only I could decide how to shape it. In the subject box of what Patrick had sent it said:DOWN UNDER;)

In good faith,he’d written,I hereby offer you a get-out clause. I had plied you with multiple beers and the heady sense of mini golf victory last night …

I’d explain to the Core Four that I’d rolled over in bed with excitement bubbling for the first time in ages that day – albeit quite hungover. As I’d stared at the space in bed where Alexander should have been it hit me:why not?What was the worst that could happen if Patrick was the buddy Fernanda and Charles had suggested I find? Sun, sea, wine tasting, the good company of somebody who made me laugh? I actually didn’t have a single doubt. A switch had been flicked in my head – in my soul, even – where I understood how I could choose how to frame my life. And I was choosing the honeymoon with Patrick – a man who remembered me as I wanted to be.

‘Aren’t you worried, though?’ probed Jo. ‘Okay fine, you knew him twenty years ago when you were kids, and he’s made you laugh in the handful of times you’ve seen him at bootcamp, but … going on holiday with him?’

‘HONEYMOON,’ interjected Kezza. ‘It’s her honeymoon … but he isn’t her husband!’ she squealed. ‘This is just too good. I love it. I mean, obviously you should have picked me, but whatever. Work is super busy right now anyway, and I’m saving cash for my impending motherhood. I would have come if pushed, but this Patrick fella sounds good enough. Can we see a photo of him?’

‘I did notsee this coming,’ mused Bri. ‘This isquiteleft-field.’ She said ‘quite’with an emphasis that I knew meant ‘two hundred per cent left field’ but I let it wash over me.

‘What are you going to do if you need a poo and you’re sharing a hotel room?’ asked Jo.

Kezza enquired: ‘What are you going to do if you have to share a bed?’

‘We’re not sharing a bed,’ I said. ‘That would be … no.’

I hadn’t actually thought about the sleeping arrangements. The only thing I’d thought about was having somebody else to watch my luggage at the airport when I needed the loo, and another person in the car speeding from beach to beach, radio playing, wind in my hair. Now I knew it was happening, the pull of vacation was overwhelming. I’d been going through the motions of my old life to try and get through a day but now, with all this to look forward to, I was reinvigorated. Like Adzo had said – New Annie was peeking out of the shadows of the old one. I didn’t have to go through the motions: I could craft my own story, and in that story I could be wearing a sunhat and a kaftan.

After a brunch of eggs royale with a side order of defending myself, I’d emailed him back:

Yeah, you’re right. I accept the get-out clause. Thank you.

He’d replied:But we can mini golf again, can’t we? I had fun!

I grinned whenever his name appeared on my screen. His words pumped me full of helium so I could float above the doubt I had about myself.We can,I’d sent back.Let’s put mini golf on the itinerary FOR AUSTRALIA, BABY! Of course I haven’t changed my mind!!!

Adzo thought the whole set-up was the best thing she’d ever heard, but then she often contradicted whatever the CoreFour said – I think as my Work Best Friend she shouldered a responsibility to offset their more conservative predilections. Adzo definitely thought they were all a little bit square because they were all so traditional in their life paths of jobs and husbands and children, but then she hadn’t turned thirty yet. Something happens in your brain when you do, I swear. I don’t know if it’s society or culture or the biological clock or witchcraft or what. But it’s real. And I don’t think blokes have it.

‘It’s a perfect plan,’ she’d extolled. ‘Totally perfect! We keep making this distinction between the Old Annie you were, and this New Annie you’re going to be, and I’ve got to say, I for one am very encouraging of this. People are supposed to evolve and change. Look at the nice blonde woman who they made a movie about – she travelled the world and discovered herself and got to go to bed with Javier Bardem, and then in real life evolved again to go decide that actually she wanted to be married not to him, but to her best female friend. And I don’t say that because I want you to secretly fall in love withthisbest female friend.’ She pointed at herself as she said that. ‘I tried the old vajayjay in a threesome with one of the guys from Blue and his PR and it wasn’t for me, but my point is: you deserve to do this YOLO thing. I love this for you! I really, really do.’

She actually didn’t let me get a word in edgeways she was so enthusiastic.

And my parents? They didn’t technically know. I didn’t outright lie to them because I didn’teversay:I am going to Australia on my own.But I also never told them I was going with Patrick. Freddie knew, though, because I don’t wilfully omit information from my baby sister if I can help it – and I’d used it as a bartering system with Carol.

‘If you do most of the dog-walking and dog-feeding and dog-cuddling so that Mum and Dad don’t have to,’ I’d wagered as I’d dropped her off, ‘I’ll tell you a secret.’

I would have told her anyway, but I needed to ensure she’d help with the dog-sitting as much as possible so that I wouldn’t lose any dog-sitting privileges in the future. There’d be repercussions once Mum and Dad found out I was honeymooning with another man. I could hear Mum’s voice already, rising to a frustrated high pitch as she wondered about the optics of going away with a man who wasn’t Alexander so soon after he’d left me. I knew how her brain worked: she’d worry that people would think I’d been having an affair, and so it was my fault Alexander did a runner. I refused to manage those mental gymnastics on her behalf by quietly slipping away and letting forgiveness set the agenda instead of permission. I was a fully-grown woman, after all. So fully-grown that I was terrified of what would happen on my return, but still.

I was also a bit afraid of what would happen at the airport. I’d told myself that even if Patrick didn’t show up, I’d still get on that plane – come hell or high water.

I hoped he did show up, though.

Heathrow teemed with people. Our flight was at just after 1 p.m., getting into Perth at 1 p.m. the following day, but I couldn’t figure out if that was 1 p.m. tomorrow UK time, or Australian time. Dad always used to say on holiday: ‘Is it today, tomorrow, or yesterday?’ If the flight was nineteen hours and Perth was eight hours ahead … then that must mean …

‘G’day, mate!’

Patrick appeared before me. He was wearing a hat with corks dangling all around off the brim, and carrying a stuffed kangaroo.

‘Sheila, hold this so I can throw another shrimp on the barbie.’

I took the kangaroo from him. People were staring as they passed – tanned limbs walking to the exit on their way back from vacation, and paler ones headed towards check-in. My mouth was agape. Did I love that he’d showed up this way, or was I mortified? He’d certainly fully embraced the theme. He must have been able to tell that I was taking a beat to process his demonstrable enthusiasm because his face fell a tiny bit.

‘Is the accent too much?’ he said, using his normal voice. I allowed myself to soften – he was cute when he was checking where the line was.

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