Page 30 of The Lucky Escape

I could allow myself that, couldn’t I? I could let myself do whatever it took to heal? It helped having somebody with me. I really would have boarded alone if Patrick hadn’t shown up, but I was so glad he had. I just felt safe with him. My gut told me we’d travel well together. How long had it been since I’d actually trusted myself? Listened to my gut? It was time to reclaim that. Less head, more heart. More feeling, less over-analysing with thinking.

I flicked through to the first empty page of the notebook and wrote:Vows to myself.My pen lingered over the paper and I thought about what I wanted to say. I looked at Patrick, sleeping, his face lit up by an episode of the TV show he’d closed his eyes in front of. I might not have been able to rely on Alexander, but I sure as hell would make certain that I could always rely on myself from now on. Me, myself, and I – that’s who I could trust. That was the pledge I’d make, no more second-guessing.

From this day forward,I wrote, smiling,I will stop trying to be perfect.

Yes. That was it. Trying to be perfect was impossible, because nobody is ever perfect. No wonder I always fell short.

For better, for worse,I continued,I will throw caution to the wind.

Patrick did that, didn’t he? Because life was too brief, too quick. He was right. It was.

For richer, for poorer … I will say yes to every opportunity that comes my way.

Like Australia. And whatever happened in Australia I’d say yes to as well.

To have and to hold, from this day forth, I commit to my own happiness.

This is my solemn vow.

Forever and ever, Amen.

I drew a box around it, making it all stand out on the page. Yes. I wanted to please myself and try new things and make some mistakes. I’d been holding my breath, seeking approval to exist, taking up as little space as possible and being who everyone else told me I was instead of who I am. And I was over it.

I looked at Patrick again, leaning over to switch off his monitor. We both fell into darkness.

I closed my eyes and slept heavily, dreamlessly, contentedly, only waking up in time for breakfast before landing.

13

In arrivals, a pretty, tuxedoed woman in a driver’s hat stood with a huge sign that said ANNIE + GUEST on it.

‘Oh,’ I said to Patrick as we both clocked her. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to be picking us up. I assumed we’d just hop in a cab …’

Patrick yawned lazily. ‘I’m very quickly learning to put aside any and all expectations to be honest. You really undersold this honeymoon, you know.’

I knew what he meant.

Fixing my face into a smile I waved at my name. ‘I’m Annie,’ I said, trying to sound less exhausted than I was. Even in business class, flying to the other side of the world was no mean feat. ‘Annie Wiig. Are you for me? Did the hotel send you?’

‘They did indeed,’ she replied, surprising me with a Cockney accent. ‘I’m Bianca. I’ll be taking you the three hours down the road to Margaret River.’ She stepped in front of Patrick to take the luggage trolley from him. ‘This way,’ she instructed, chirpily. ‘Follow me.’

Patrick whispered: ‘You were going to get a cab to take us three hours?’

Thank the Lord the hotel had sent a car.

We had to break into a jog in order to weave behind Bianca through the crowd, her neat ponytail lacing down her back. It was almost 2 p.m. local time and surprisingly mild – I didn’t need the cardigan I wore to guard against the aeroplane’s chilly air conditioning, and wondered if she was warm in her suit jacket. We stepped outside into blue skies with only the odd cloud and, as I went to move around the back of a stretch limousine to cross the road, Bianca called to me, ‘Annie, love? This is us.’

She popped the boot and started to load our bags in.

‘Please,’ she insisted, waving a hand. ‘You get inside and get comfortable.’

‘Christ,’ Patrick uttered in delight as we shut the door behind us. The whole inside was cream leather, and there was wine and water and snacks, although the thought of any of it made my tummy lurch. I was disorientated and unsure, and mostly just really wanted a shower. The screen dividing the back from the driver’s area at the front came down.

‘You ready?’ asked Bianca.

‘Born ready,’ said Patrick, and I grinned. I’d never been in a limo before.

‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Make sure you pick up that envelope and give it a read, won’t you? It’s got your itinerary in it. Honeymooners, right?’

---