Page 66 of The Layover
I go over and try the door.
It’s not locked.
‘Gemma, what are you doing!’ Fran hisses, face suddenly pale with alarm. ‘You can’t go in there!’
‘Why not? It’s open.’
‘It’s – well, it isn’t … You can’t go in there!’
‘Yeah, I’m with Francesca on this one,’ Leon says gruffly, and I almost roll my eyes because no surprises there. ‘We can’t, Gem.’
‘What if someone sees?’
I shrug.So what if they do?
What’s the worst that can happen? This isn’tBridget Jones: The Edge of Reason; I’m not about to end up in some foreign prison swapping my bra for cigarettes just because some idiot forgot to lock the door of arestaurant. More likely, some French police officer sends me packing back to the UK with a stern warning and a good story.
Not that it looks like I’ll have anybody to tell that story to, at this rate, I think, remembering that WhatsApp chat I’m not supposed to be part of anymore.
But fuck it. I didn’t get the promotion, I’m not getting the wedding, I didn’t get the flat, I haven’t got the partner, and I definitely don’t have the friends. Very literally,what have I got to lose?
Out loud I say, ‘Please, if security are worried about anyone right now, it’s the dad-battle going on downstairs.’
So I push the door the rest of the way open and go on inside. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the shadows that cloak the room. It’s a sit-down restaurant and rows of bottles glinton shelves behind a bar in the lights that twinkle in from the terminal. Chairs are stacked upside down on tables, but I find a big round booth over in the far corner and throw myself in, groaning at the plush cushioned seat I land on – it’s a welcome relief after all that sitting on the floor.
Maybe I could just stay here? Hide forever in this dark corner of Orly Airport, all alone with my sad little life, and let myself disappear and decay and never have to face Kayleigh and her perfect fucking wedding?
But there’s a clatter – Leon bumping into something and barely catching some chairs that he almost just sent spilling to the floor, and Fran saying, ‘Oh, gosh, careful! Are you okay?’ as she flashes her phone torch around so he can see better, and it is clear that I will not be left alone to wallow and despair.
But hey, a girl can dream.
I groan again as I pull myself up into more of a sitting position, and say, ‘Over here,’ so they can find me more easily in the dark. Fran swings her torch my way and I wince, momentarily blinded.
It’s really the least I deserve, under the circumstances. I can only imagine what they’ll say, what they’ll do, when they learn the truth.
And like, sure, do Ihaveto tell them? Of course I don’t.
I could tell them both to piss off and mind their own business, laugh in Fran’s face and say, ‘God, learn to take ajoke, why don’t you!’ I could pretend like I was just chatting shit, and brush off any pestering, and if Leon tries to tell Kayleigh that I’ve got a sinister plot in mind, who’s she really going to believe? The brother who wants her to call off the wedding or the ‘pushover’ maid of honour who helped plan it all?
I don’t have to tell them anything.
But it’s eating at me, and I want to.
I’m so tired. I’m so fed up.
I’m solonely.
And Fran – sweet, lovely, shy Fran – standing there and trying to be so nice to me and telling me she’d be my friend … It’s laughable. She doesn’t know me.
She shouldn’t be giving me false hope for things like that.
She should at least know who I really am, first.
The pair of them settle into the booth with me, Fran in the middle and tucking herself in small. I reach for the bag of booze I put down on the floor, fishing out a fresh paper cup and pouring myself a little whisky. It burns on its way down, enough to make my eyes water.
Or maybe that’s something else.
Leon puts my work phone on the table for me, and I take it – but only to shove it into the depths of my handbag. I find my own phone wedged between a book and my purse, and turn it back on. The battery’s still low; I should find somewhere to charge it, soon. Maybe Fran has a portable charger? She seems like someone who would carry one of those everywhere.
