Page 57 of The Layover
I laugh. ‘See, Itoldyou he and Kayleigh are a good match.’
Then the stag/hen do attendees come back from their trip to the loos, having apparently got distracted gossiping, and they fall on us and our pile of booze with glazed eyes asking where we’re off to, and obviously I say we’re headed to Barcelona for a wedding, and they mention they’re headed out there for a joint stag do for the two grooms, and …
Next thing I know, the three ofusare being roped into participating in a makeshift obstacle course around the concourse. Half of the stags’ group are stone-cold sober, but everyone’s laughing loudly and giving it their all as we hopscotch around piles of bags and coats, leapfrog our way from one end to the other and have three-legged races with one person blindfolded.
We’ve made a solid dent in the booze, all loose-limbed and giggly. EvenLeonis giggly, which is adorable to see. It’s not as if he’s always broody and sullen like he was around Fran earlier – if anything, he’s normally unfailingly polite, even if he is a man of few words. But it’s cute, seeing him really lighten up and let go a bit.
He and Fran are atrocious at the three-legged race.
He picksbothof us up and wins the piggyback race, though, which somehow leads to a contest of ‘how many people can Leon deadlift?’ and has one of the grooms leaping onto his back without hesitation.
He throws his arms in the air like Leon is the prow of theTitanic. ‘I’m king ofParee!’
The other groom is blushing as he whoops, ‘You’remyshort king!’ Meanwhile, a few of the group start up a rousing chorus of ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’ fromLes Mis. Leon becomes an impromptu barricade when the best man climbs up onto his other shoulder, and then I nudge Fran and tell her to hop on. She blushes (which really, is telling meallI need to know) and stays put, so I cling to Leon’s front like a koala.
Our human pyramid/barricade collapses when one of the bridesmaids takes a running leap and spills Leon off balance, and we’re all a tangle of limbs on the floor, howling with laughter, with a slightly bruised Leon left standing in the middle.
There’s a weird lawlessness about the airport at this time of night, with all these people stuck waiting for their flights in the middle of a storm. Bags abandoned willy-nilly, people sat right in the way of usual foot traffic, this bonkers little obstacle course, the lot. It’s so surreal, it feels like the first time I had to queue up for pasta in a supermarket when the pandemic began. It won’t feel real afterwards.
That’s precisely the beauty of it, though:noneof this is properly ‘real’, and I feel like I can really let go for once.
Some of our obstacle course is overtaken by children, but nobody seems to mind too much. A game of prosecco pong is pulled out of a rucksack by averyprepared bridesmaid. I see the redhead girl who eavesdropped in Victoria’s Secret eyeing it with either intrigued disdain or coolly reserved interest. The ginger guy sat next to her is slumped, eyes closed, over the bag in his lap.
I nudge Fran and point at the girl. ‘Shall we ask her if she wants to join in? Doesn’t look like her travel buddy is a whole lot of fun.’
Leon looks over. ‘Nah, leave them be. They’re probably just pissed off their honeymoon got ruined.’
Francesca makes a sound that’s halfway between a choke and a laugh. ‘Honeymoon?They’re not a couple, you muppet! Look at them, they’reobviouslysiblings. Twins, I reckon.’
‘Come off it,’ Leon scoffs, but it’s with none of his earlier chagrin. He even bumps her shoulder, downrightplayful. That booze really has loosened him up. ‘I overheard them talking, they were on about telling the staff it was their honeymoon to get on an earlier flight.’
I snort. ‘Well, duh, who wouldn’t try to use that line if it got them out of here quicker?’ They’re not exactlysatlike a loved-up couple, and theydolook eerily similar, down to the ski-slope noses and same shade of hair … But they are both wearing wedding rings, which gives me pause.
A bolt of inspiration strikes, and I give Leon a little shove. ‘Go flirt with her.’
‘What?’
‘Well, she’ll tell you if she’s married, won’t she? She’ll be all, “Ew, creep, go away, my husband isliterally right here.”’
Leon blanches, but his eyes flit to Francesca before he says to me, ‘Weirdly, becoming the airport creep doesn’t sound too appealing. Besides, I’m … I’m not … she isn’t … I’ll …’
‘Oh, fine,I’lldo it.’
I stride over, dropping onto the sliver of empty bench next to the girl. She looks more like Leon and Fran’s age – closer to thirty – and eyes me with her nose wrinkled a bit as I sit down.
‘Hi. I’m Gemma.’
There’s a long pause before she just says, ‘Hi?’
‘Do you want to come and have a drink with us? Or just hang out a bit. This whole night issucha drag, but these games have been a good laugh.’
Her lip curls. ‘Yes, so I heard. I think all of Paris heard, in fact.’
‘Gotta show them what they’re missing out on, right?’ I laugh, but it doesn’t land. ‘Really, though, it’s good fun. And you look a little lonely, over here all on your own …’ I lean in a bit, bump her arm with my chest lightly, give her my best coy smile.
There’s a good chance the whole effect comes off as more ‘drunkard who’s lost her balance’.
‘Um, yeah, no thanks.’
