Page 11 of Reinventing Cato
He’d had a text from his mother wishing him a Happy New Year and good luck for tomorrow. Same from his sisters. Even his pain-in-the-neck younger brother Griff had texted him to wish him a Happy New Year. Devan had left a voicemail and Cato listened to it.
“Happy New Year, Cato,” Devan said.
“Let me talk to him.”
Cato smiled when he heard Jonty’s voice.
“Same from me, Cato. Did you remember to make a wish at midnight?”
“Hopefully not in the way Jonty made me do it,” Devan said.
“What? It was sweet. It’s a Russian tradition. I made Devan write his wish on a piece of paper, then he had to set fire to it, drop it in a glass of champagne and drink it by 12.01am for the wish to come true.”
“I nearly choked.”
“You didn’t actually choke, just coughed a lot when I made you keep drinking, and the paper wasn’t still on fire, even though you said it was. When the wish comes true, you’ll be so grateful. If you’d tell me what the wish was, I could make sure it happened. Provided you didn’t wish for something impossible. Oh God, did you? Like you wanted a ten-inch cock? Nine inches isn’t enough? Ouch! That pinch hurt. Anyway, we’re going to do a different country’s tradition every New Year. Next year Devan is going to have a chat with a cow. They do that in Romania. Good luck tomorrow, Cato. Knock them dead. Er…no, don’t. Don’t break a leg either. It—”
“Enough,” Devan said. “Give me a call, Cat, and let me know how you get on.”
Cato sighed as the message ended. Jonty really wasn’t Cato’s type, he liked big strong guys, either to top or tail, but Jonty was light and bright and funny and… If Cato had met him, rather than Devan… Then maybe…
Maybe nothing. He’d have done what he’d become accustomed to doing. Fucked him and walked away. Cato was glad Devan was happy again after the disaster called Ravi. That dickhead could join Max and Louise on theMistakes of the Smith Familyposter.Christmas had been a revelation in so many ways and it was definitely part of the reason Cato’s head wasn’t straight. Though maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe he was finally seeing things more clearly. The snow was wiping his life clean.
“Shit!”
Cato tensed at the driver’s exclamation and gripped the sides of his seat as the car slid sideways, drifting across the dual carriageway towards a vehicle in the outside lane.
“No, no, no,” the driver hissed.
Cato was at least reassured that there was no panicked wrenching of the steering wheel or slamming on of the brakes, either of which would have made the situation a whole lot worse. As it was, the car they were heading for continued blithely on its way and there was no collision. Though it had been close. The cab straightened out.
“Sorry about that, Father. Looks like God’s on our side.” The driver gave a choked laugh.
“If we get there on time, I’ll agree with you.”
Theydidget there on time and as Cato stepped into the terminal building, shaking the snow from his hair and trying to ignore the drips on his glasses, he was beginning to think maybe Godwason his side, until he saw the departures screen. His flight had been cancelled.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered and drew a startled gasp from a woman close by.
Why couldn’t priests swear? It didn’t seem fair.
Now was the chance for his priest’s outfit to come into play. Cato took off his coat, headed for theEasy Flightdesk and joined the queue. There were six people in front of him, although was he wasting his time? If the airline had cancelled one flight, they’d probably cancel all of them. He’d be better off checking with another airline even though it was going to cost him an arm and leg. While he dithered over whether to move out of the queue or not, there was an announcement on the airport PA system.
“Attention all passengers. Due to adverse weather conditions, the airport is currently closed. Further announcements will follow, but the airport is expected to remain closed for the rest of the day.”
“For goodness sake,” snarled the guy standing in front of him. “Can’t they deal with a bit of snow? This is an international airport. They have gritters and snowploughs, don’t they?”
The rumbles of discontent intensified and as an impromptu complaints committee began to form, Cato peeled away from the queue. There was going to be no help fromEasy Flightother than an offer of a flight tomorrow, a stale sandwich and a cup of coffee, or maybe a voucher for a flight on a less snowy day. Even a flight tomorrow wasn’t a certainty. He looked around to see people either heading for the exits or staking claims to seats.
Cato put on his coat and made his way to the taxi rank, thinking of getting a cab to the rail station a mile or so away, only to be confronted with a queue so long, and no sign of any vehicles, even transit buses, that he knew he’d be wasting his time if he waited. Even if the trains were running now, they might not be by the time he reached the station.
Back inside the terminal, he headed for the car hire desks and picked the company with the shortest queue.UDrive.He’d never heard of them. There was a woman in front of him, then a tall guy in a long dark coat, a family with kids, and finally a middle-aged man who was leaning over the desk, complaining that the model of vehicle he’d booked was apparently not available.Jesus, mate, take anything!
“This is unacceptable,” the man raged. “This booking was made two weeks ago.”
Uh-oh.
“I’m sorry sir,” said the woman behind the counter. “But that particular vehicle hasn’t been returned yet. The weather…”
