as Hooker sometimes was. They rarely thought of the effect their words might have. Well, she’d bloody well show them that she could make a go of this. If anything, Nic’s scorn had only served to stoke the fire of Lou’s determination. Who knew? Perhaps her success would bring them closer together. Success was something that Nic, like her father, respected.
The rattle of the trolley was getting nearer. She wondered what the time was, but was reluctant to brave the glare of the cabin to look at her watch.
‘Excuse me.’ An unknown voice sounded right by her ear. ‘Would you like orange juice?’
Annoyed by the disturbance, she peeled the blanket from her head and took off her eye mask only to be confronted by a familiar face in the next seat. Her knicker rescuer. Beyond him, the third seat was empty. Where was Ali? He was passing her a plastic beaker from the stewardess. She took it and unfolded her table. ‘Thanks. But that seat’s taken.’ Realising how rude she sounded, she apologised. ‘I’m sorry, that sounded awful.’
‘Not at all.’ He inclined his head and gave a slight smile. ‘Your friend was taken ill so she took the aisle seat, but I think she may now be sleeping at the back of the plane.’
Lou composed herself. She was a fifty-five-year-old woman, for God’s sake. This man had only tried to help her, not stripped her naked in front of the whole airport. Even if that was what it had felt like to her at the time. The memory of his hand holding out her knickers came into her head and she fought a desire to laugh.
‘I’m sorry about earlier on at the airport, too,’ she said. Then, ‘I’m Lou.’
He held out his hand, at least as far as the movement was possible in such a confined space. ‘Sanjeev Gupta.’
They shook, elbows digging into their sides. Before they could continue their conversation, a stewardess was leaning across, offering trays of breakfast. Lou stared at the separated lumps of scrambled egg and the warm burned sausage that floated in a thin sea of tomato juice, before turning her tray around and picking up the yoghurt.
‘Have you been on holiday?’ her neighbour asked while cutting his sausage as if expecting something foul to crawl out. He gave up and turned his attention to the roll and butter.
Within minutes, Lou was detailing their route through Rajasthan, remembering the highlights, excited to be able to talk about what she’d seen without the rest of the group, who were scattered through the plane, interrupting. She only stopped to allow the breakfast to be removed. Sanjeev was an attentive listener, concentrating on what he was hearing, interrupting only to ask whether she had managed to visit certain places she didn’t mention: Jaisalmer, Bikaner, Deogarh. By the time they’d finished their coffee, Lou was laughing.
‘Two weeks obviously isn’t anything like long enough. We’ve missed so much. I’ll just have to come back.’
Responding to her laugh, Sanjeev smiled back. ‘To Rajasthan? Or maybe somewhere else?’
‘What do you think?’ Lou wanted the opinion of someone who knew the country far better than her.
He began to tell her about the other very different parts of his country, from the unspoilt mountain state of Sikkim that lay in the Himalayan foothills in the shadow of Kanjenjunga, to the gentle white-sanded paradise of Kerala in the south. Lou listened, entranced by his descriptions and the stories of his visits there, at the same time making plans for countless future visits. Would her new business provide the necessary income? She would have to make sure it did. He took her journeying down the mighty Brahmaputra in the state of Assam, conjuring up the crowded ferries, the riverine island of Majuli, his visit during light-filled Divali, the ubiquitous tea plantations. He was describing the steep noisy street up to a Hindu temple outside Guwahati lined with stalls stuffed with devotional objects, crowded with holy men and pilgrims who had travelled there to have their wishes granted, when Ali returned to the outside seat.
Lou smiled a faint welcome but continued to let Sanjeev talk. So caught up was she in the places he was describing, she didn’t want him to stop. However, seeing he’d lost her attention for a moment, he broke off and twisted round to see Ali. He immediately asked her if she wanted her seat back. ‘Your friend has missed you. So, if you are better …’ He let the sentence hang.
‘Thank you.’ She stood to let him out, so she could slide into the vacated middle seat.
Lou was disappointed to lose Sanjeev but Ali wasn’t to know how much she had been enjoying his company.
‘What a bloody awful night,’ announced Ali, who was looking pale despite the make-up that she’d obviously applied in preparation for landing.
‘I’m sorry. I’d no idea. How are you feeling now?’ Lou felt guilty that she hadn’t even bothered to go to the back of the plane to find out. But Ali seemed not to mind.
‘Much better. Once I was lying down and the Imodium kicked in, I was OK. But I had so much going around my head, I couldn’t sleep for ages.’
‘Once you see Ian, everything’ll fall into place. You’ll see.’ Lou wasn’t sure why she was speaking with such confidence when she knew so little about either of them. ‘Is he meeting you?’
‘I wish. No. I don’t know when I’m going to see him. Depends on how things have gone with his wife, I guess.’
The pilot’s voice broke into their conversation, announcing the start of their descent into Heathrow. Lou stretched her ankles back and forth, suddenly aware that she had barely moved on the flight and that a blood clot might be lurking in a stagnant vein, waiting to finish her off. Why hadn’t she worn those awful white compression socks that had briefly graced the airport floor and were now buried somewhere in Ali’s case? Confusion and vanity had combined to prevent her retrieving them. Her grip tightened on the armrest again as her hearing buzzed and blocked and she struggled to catch what Ali was saying. She gasped as a sharp pain drilled into her eye socket, then swallowed hard. Cutting loose from her neighbours, she focused on the pain in her head and on all the methods she knew that might relieve the pressure: holding her nose; swallowing; yawning; drinking the last of her water; trying and failing to find the chewing gum buried in her bag. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it another moment and her head would split in two, the plane hit the tarmac. As it bumped along the ground, the pain began to recede as they taxied towards the airport buildings.
4
Lou’s eyes felt as if they’d been forcibly removed, sandpapered and returned to their sockets. Her limbs were leaden as she slid her suitcase through the melting snow along the path to her front door, vowing never to catch another overnight flight again. She stopped to look up at the windows, wound about with bare wisteria stems. Jenny’s home was hers now, and waiting to welcome her back. Even so, it was strange not to be returning from holiday to the home she and Hooker had shared for so long. For a second, she felt more alone than she had since their split. As she rummaged in her bag for her key, she felt Sanjeev’s business card. Would he make good his promise, hurriedly made as they walked towards Immigration, to invite her to dinner while he was in London? And if he did, how would she respond? Positively, she decided, given what she remembered of his manner, his way of conjuring up places, palaces, myths and Mughals, not of course forgetting his Bollywood good looks. And why not? There was no reason why she shouldn’t indulge in a little post-marital entertainment.
As soon as she was inside, she swapped her too-thin mac for her voluminous knee-length leopard-print faux-fur coat that was scattered with Minnie Mouse faces. Walking through the house, inhaling the familiar scent
