doesn’t have something just for her, like I have my bike and my wood. I hadn’t realised that she doesn’t really have any hobbies until she brought it up a few weeks ago. She’d been working late at the kitchen table and I’d gone in to offer her a glass of wine and found her crying, her tears dripping onto her keyboard.
‘Hey,’ I said, moving her computer out of the way. ‘What’s happened?’
She rubbed her eyes and leaned into me as I bent to hug her.
‘I’m just feeling a bit rubbish about everything – at everything.’
I kissed her hair, the familiar smell of coconut and perfume pulling me in.
‘That,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t be further from the truth.’
‘Tell me honestly,’ she said, looking up at me. ‘Do you think that because my parents were screwed up, I’ve screwed up Josh and Marnie?’
The question was so unexpected I laughed.
‘Liv! That’s insane! You’re an incredible mum, the absolute best. Without you our kids wouldn’t be half the people they are. You’ve brought them up brilliantly.’
She pulled away and attempted to go back to working on her laptop. But I stopped her hands and closed the computer.
‘You’re amazing,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to make you feel like this, but you are.’
She stared through the window into the dark night.
‘It’s just – I don’t know – I suppose I feel that I’ve lost myself somewhere along the way. I’m a mum, a wife, a lawyer, a friend, but sometimes I wish I had something extra, something that’s only for me, like you do. Like your biking and your sculpting. I haven’t had a passion just for me for years, if ever. I don’t even have any talents, not like you. You’re so creative and I’m – nothing.’
It hurt that she couldn’t see how brilliant she was. I took her wrists and pulled her gently to her feet. When she wrapped her arms around me, I could feel the undulations of her ribs through her jumper. She’d lost weight recently and I kept forgetting to ask her about it. Was it all for the party? Or was she worried about something, something bigger? But she would tell me if she was; she’d never been able to leave things unsaid between us.
‘What about your roses?’ I said, glad to have found something that was all hers. ‘I don’t know anyone who can name roses like you do. That’s an amazing talent.’
She started to smile and then began laughing so hard that new tears formed in her eyes.
‘What?’ I said. ‘You can!’
‘Adam, that is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m thirty-nine! Naming roses is not a talent. It makes me sound like I’m eighty years old…’ She went quiet and I pulled her back into a hug.
‘We’ll find you a really cool hobby for your fortieth,’ I promised. ‘Just you wait.’
I know the underlying problem is her parents, not the fact that she doesn’t have a hobby. It’s why I’m determined she’ll have an amazing party tonight, with or without them. She deserves so much to be spoiled, to have a special day just for her full of surprises, including the ring I’ve come to pick up.
The jeweller’s is part of the maze of pedestrianised streets, so I leave the bike in the usual car park and start the short walk there. It’s still warm, the sun stronger as it gets closer to noon, and the thought of Livia on her surprise trip to the spa feels good. As I weave between Saturday shoppers, I peel off my gloves and, tucking them into my jacket pocket, take out my phone to check the time.
The light is too bright to be able to read the screen so I cup my hand around it. There’s a news notification on the home page.
Breaking News
Pyramid Airways plane has crashed near Cairo International Airport.
My eyes freeze on the words Pyramid Airways. Marnie is flying Pyramid Airways. I stop, my heart constricting. I know it can’t be her flight, it has to be a different one. But the mention of Cairo Airport feels too close.
I press at the screen to open the main BBC News App.
A plane has crashed on take-off from Cairo International Airport. Pyramid Airways flight PA206 to Amsterdam crashed 11.55 local time.
My mouth goes dry. Is that the flight Marnie was meant to be on, the one she said she’d miss? Or a later one?
A child shouts out. Something – a bag – hits the side of my leg. I look up, my eyes unfocused, trying to take in what I’ve just read. I need to find Marnie’s flight number but for a moment I can’t make my hands work. I move into the shade by a shop window and bring up the WhatsApp conversation where she sent me her flight details. My fingers fumble on the screen as I scroll down.
HK – Cairo HK945 DEP 06.10 ARR 10.15
Cairo–Ams PA206 DEP 11.35 ARR 17.40
Ams – Ldn EK749 DEP 19.30 ARR 19.55
Ldn – Home ETA 21.00!!!
Cairo to Amsterdam PA206 DEP 11.35. I repeat it twice: PA206 Departure 11.35, PA206 Departure 11.35. The flight number in the news story is PA206. It’s Marnie’s flight, the one she would have been on, if her flight from Hong Kong hadn’t been delayed.
The shock sends tremors through my body. It’s not only shock, it’s also relief. I unzip my jacket, the leather suddenly too heavy. Thank God Marnie missed the flight, thank God her flight was delayed. But I need to make sure, I need to check that she couldn’t have arrived in Cairo in time to get the Amsterdam flight.
I find the flight app I installed on my mobile when Marnie first left, then flip back to our WhatsApp conversation to get her flight number from Hong Kong. I put it into the app: HK945. The details come up – her plane landed in Cairo at 11.25 local time, so over an hour late – and only ten minutes before the Amsterdam flight left. I’m weak with relief. She couldn’t have made it, not with only ten minutes to spare. She’ll be at Cairo Airport, stuck between flights. She’ll be distraught, of course, but at least she’s safe.
But – why hasn’t she been in touch? Maybe she tried to call, maybe I missed it. I check my missed calls log; there’s nothing. I press the FaceTime call logo and watch the screen, waiting for her face to appear. Nothing. I cut the call and try on audio, in case the signal isn’t strong enough for the video link to work. There’s still nothing. I try sending a text: Marnie, something happened to a flight out of Cairo. Text or call me as soon as you can, Love xxx
I send it by WhatsApp too, to double my chances, then hold my breath, waiting for a sign that Marnie has seen it – the two blue ticks, the Typing… at the top of the screen. Nothing. There are no ticks to say it’s been delivered. I check the status – undelivered. The network must be down in Cairo because of the crash. It must be chaos at the airport. There probably won’t have been an announcement about the crash but everyone will know something is wrong because all the departures boards will suddenly show Delayed or Cancelled for all subsequent
