slightly before that, Ellie admitted, looking down at her un-flip-flopped feet and sarong-less legs.
She hadn’t realised they were going to be travelling with Kat and her ‘people’. Immediately she’d gone into tortoise mode, feeling she had nothing much in common with the assorted bunch of strangers. Kat seemed nice—very young, and much shorter than she’d expected.
She studied the other members of the entourage. There was a tall, burly guy with a pair of shades who she presumed was a bodyguard or something. The girl with the funky white-blonde hair had to be a make-up artist or hairdresser. But she couldn’t even guess what the others did. The woman in the lurid boob tube could be Kat’s personal grape-peeler for all she knew.
The young guy with the pierced nose finished telling a funny story and the whole group erupted into laughter. Ellie’s eyes followed Mark’s every move as he grinned away, pleased with the reaction. The funky-haired woman put a pressureless hand on his arm as she wiped a tear from her eye.
Ellie frowned and turned back to face the anonymous jets parading round the runway. Her forehead met the cool glass with a delicate thud.
Basket case.
At thirty-five-thousand feet she was still wondering what she was doing with these people. Sure, she’d been on aeroplanes before, but it had been rubber food, cramped leg room and fighting about who had the armrest. Not this. Not champagne and seats you could fit a small family into. It all seemed so foreign—yet it shouldn’t. Nobody else seemed to be pining for garish seat covers and lager louts singing football songs.
She felt like an impostor. Any minute now people would start pointing and staring, and she’d be dragged back to Economy, where she belonged. This wasn’t her world. What a huge mistake to think she could slide in here with Mark and find it a perfect fit.
However, the outsize chair was definitely comfy, and she sank into it, her eyelids closing of their own accord.
The next thing she was aware of was something brushing her cheek, something soft and slightly moist. She swatted it away without opening her eyes.
‘Ow!’
She pulled her eyelids apart with enough force to unstick her eyelashes and squinted at the fuzzy shape in front of her. As it came into focus she realised it was Mark, and his lips were slightly pursed.
‘Why are you holding your nose like that?’ she asked, shifting in her seat to get a better look.
‘I was trying to wake you up when you walloped me.’
‘I didn’t wallop. I swatted. There’s a difference.’ She rubbed the spot on her cheek that was still tickling her. ‘And how did I end up hitting you on the nose? What were you doing that close?’
In the semi-dark of the cabin she could have sworn his face turned a shade pinker.
‘I was just…Never mind what I was doing! I was waking you up because the pilot just announced we’d be landing in half an hour. I thought you’d want to get yourself together.’
She stretched her arms past her head, yawned and looked out of the window. It was so dark out there they could have been flying through a black hole.
‘What time is it?’
‘Our time or local time?’
‘Whichever.’
‘Well, it’s just after midnight local time. At least we get a few extra hours to catch up on sleep.’
Ellie made a face. ‘I think I could do with a whole week!’
He smiled, and she forgot to be grumpy.
‘You know, you look very cute when you’ve just woken up,’ he said.
Ellie snorted, then pulled a mirror out of her bag and inspected the damage. Just as she’d thought. All her mascara had migrated into a gloopy lump in one corner of her eye. Very cute.
‘You need glasses, then,’ she said as she threw the mirror onto her lap and searched for a tissue in a bag pocket.
‘Here—let me.’
Before she could refuse he’d whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish and tipped her chin towards him with his other hand. He leaned so close all the hairs behind her ears stood on end. She did her absolute best not to look too pathetic as he gently dabbed her eye. Somehow, with him taking care of her like this, she didn’t feel so lost.
That incident set the tone for the rest of the journey. When she hauled her cases off the carousel at baggage reclaim Mark was there with a trolley before she even blinked. He shepherded her into one of the cars that appeared like magic out at the front of the terminal and saw her settled at the hotel.
It had been so long since she’d felt like this. Safe. Taken care of. Not struggling to do everything by herself. It was very tempting to give in and forget they’d be home in a few days. And that, technically, she was being paid to look after him.
Ellie shivered as yet another spider scuttled across her foot. The first time one had crawled over her today she’d almost freaked out. Big time. But the cameras were rolling, filming at the first location for Kat’s video, and she hadn’t wanted to sprint round the set like a lunatic in front of the crew.
Or re-live the incident when they watched the rushes at the end of the day.
Or feature in some TV out-takes compilation next Christmas.
So, although she felt as if she’d imploded with the effort, she stifled the screams, put on a stoic face and stood her ground.
She sighed and ran her fingers through the damp curls sticking to her forehead. The whole crew was packed into a tight knot at the end of an idyllic bay where the narrow beach met the rocks. Ellie was hiding out in the jungle-like greenery that fringed the white-hot sand. Hence the spiders. She’d thought she’d do anything to escape something with eight legs, but the need for shade and even a few degrees less heat had overruled her natural instincts. It was only after they’d arrived at the hotel that Mark had explained that summer could be hot and horribly humid on the island. Most of the tourists came in the winter months.
Kat was knee-deep in water, singing along to the track that was due to be her next single. The surf behind her looked mighty inviting. Ellie was fantasising about diving into the sea, acting like a fish and hoping nobody would notice. Nice dream, but in reality she was stuck under the nearest palm tree, wilting, while everybody else did something vastly important.
The heat was making her clothes stick to her skin. Even her skin was sticking to her skin. She longed for the air-conditioned haven of the hotel. Typical of many resorts on the island, the elegant low-rise main building was surrounded by lush tropical gardens and luxurious cabins. She wanted to be doing jobs she knew how to do: faxing things, shredding things. An evil glint flickered in her eyes. She wanted to be stapling things—preferably to Mark’s head.
No, that wasn’t fair. It was her own fault she hadn’t found out what she was letting herself in for. It was the jet lag making her tetchy. And she’d never been on friendly terms with this kind of heat. It made her hair frizz.
The
