she’ll switch to Egyptian history and you’ll finally get to see the Nile.’
Gail sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right, but I can’t shake the feeling that she has something in mind, something … I don’t know. There’s been some strange people at her parent’s cottage this summer. Roger says they’re wackos.’
‘Roger would,’ Wayne said as another yawn erupted. ‘I’m tired. I’ve had a busy day and, from the sounds of it, so have you. Go, have a great time and don’t worry about me, the girls or anything else for that matter.’
‘No doubt you and Roger have things planned. I hope you two behave yourselves.’
‘Didn’t Roger tell you? He’s planning a business trip.’ Wayne rolled over. ‘I wish my firm had such exotic locales.’ He stared at Gail fixedly. ‘As I said, give Laura a break.’
‘And what’s that suppose to mean?’
‘I think you know exactly what it means.’
Day 1
London, England
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Shakespeare –
The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
[Act II, Scene 1]
‘Breakfast is coming,’ Laura whispered as she slipped into her seat.
Gail pushed her blanket back, stretched effusively and yawned. ‘Where did you go?’
‘I went to the back of the plane. I found two empty crew seats.’
‘I hope you didn’t try to sneak a cigarette. I’ve heard that passengers who do get handed a parachute.’
‘I’m patched.’
‘You’re what?’
‘Nicotine patches - I’m on the drip feed.’ Laura smile wickedly. ‘What to try one? They’re guaranteed to be a blast for a non-smoker.’
Gail fixed Laura with her best we are not amused look and then went to work trying to extricate her carry-on bag from under the seat in front. Laura turned in her seat far enough to allow Gail to pass. Before she moved on to join the small queue forming at the rear of the plane, Gail leaned over and whispered in Laura’s ear. ‘Actually, I’m proud of you. You’ve held up very well, with or without aid.’
‘It ministers, it does not gratify,’ Laura growled.
Gail patted her shoulder. ‘Poor monkey.’
*****
The Boeing 747 descended rapidly through a thin bank of cloud, corrected its course then levelled out, cruising effortlessly as it prepared for its final approach into London Heathrow. Securely belted in their seats, some passengers’ eager anticipation erupted into conversation, while others checked then re-checked their documentation or sat staring out the window, perhaps seeing the lush green of the English countryside for the first time.
Earlier, after a Continental breakfast, Laura and Gail had busied themselves filling in their arrival forms. The usual name, address, nationality, but Gail came to a screeching halt on the line marked “Occupation”. ‘What do you think I should put down? I hate housewife and there’s not enough room to put cleaner, school committee member, Halloween costume maker, cook, closet organizer, orphan sock finder …’
‘Put down Lifestyle Co-ordinator.’
‘Lifestyle Co-ordinator; I like that. Is it one of yours?’
Laura nodded as she slid her completed form inside her Passport. Ruefully, she had written “Company Director” on her form. A grandiose title, but the truth was that her little company had not proven as successful as she had hoped. Warned by those in the know, she was learning the hard way that being paid for services rendered, specifically computer training, was a hopeless task. She had boarded the aircraft with only a portion of the receivables paid, or ever likely to be.
Still childless after ten years of marriage, Laura’s relationship with her husband had deteriorated rapidly over the past few months. The trip, it was hoped, would provide a breathing space for both of them; a chance to review options; an opportunity to think things through. Laura idly tapped the tips of her fingernails on the arm of her seat as she thought of her husband, Roger, who was, perhaps at that very moment, sleeping with another woman; a divorcee with a young son. Oh, yes, Laura knew what was happening, and she also knew that Gail had been instrumental in introducing this woman to her brother. It only remained now for Laura to choose just the right moment, when Gail was sufficiently off guard, to … Laura smiled inwardly.
‘Plenty of time yet, so let her enjoy herself; for awhile at least.’
*****
Laura weaved her way around several mounds of luggage then dropped with a heavy sigh into the soft leather sofa beside Gail. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid. Our room won’t be ready for at least two hours.’
Gail groaned. ‘An eight hour flight, a delayed departure, it’s ten in the morning but it feels like midnight and I want - I need - a shower.’ She groaned again, louder this time.
‘Buck up old thing, at least we’re here. London lies at our feet, waiting, so let’s do it. We’ve got Westminster Abbey, Madam Tussauds, Harrods, London Dungeons, Covent Garden, Piccadilly, Buckingham Palace, the Royal Mews. You name it.’
‘Madam Tussauds first,’ Gail said, suddenly excited.
‘You’ve got it.’
*****
‘Well, what do you think?’ Gail asked as she proudly held up the souvenir photo of herself, taken with a waxen Arnold Schwarzenegger.
‘Very nice,’ Laura said, as she luxuriated in the roomy interior of an English taxi.
‘I’m going to take it out of its frame and tell Wayne that I met Arnold, we had lunch together, and …’
‘You would lie to your husband?’ Laura was scandalised.
Gail shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t believe me anyhow. Nothing exciting ever happens to me.’
Laura smiled wickedly as she turned towards the window. ‘Maybe we can change that,’ she whispered under her breath.
*****
By the time they arrived back at their hotel it was nearly two o’clock. Laura watched, fascinated as Gail tried to wrestle monster bag onto her bed. ‘Do you want some help?’
‘No, just stay where you
