Page 21 of Not in a Million Years

I looked at Daniel’s face, serene and almost smug in sleep, and thought, I hate you.

Nine

Now

As soon as the plane touched down, my fear melted away. It always happened that way – it wasn’t as if I suddenly realised how irrational my phobia was; intellectually, I knew that all the time, but that did nothing to lessen the screaming awareness that pulsed through my entire body and mind that here I was, kilometres up in the sky, and how could that not be insanely perilous?

But once back on land, the relief was so enormous that there was no space left in me for fear. Even the gratitude I’d felt when Daniel had held my hand and distracted me felt irrelevant now – he hadn’t needed to do it. I was fine. I’d always been going to be fine. But I’d made myself look a fool in front of him, and I didn’t like that one bit.

I felt a sense of deep weariness, and with it came profound annoyance. I just wanted to be on my own, have a shower, unpack my stuff, settle in – restore some sense of routine and normality.

We disembarked and collected our luggage, and I followed Daniel to the car-hire desk.

‘Got your driving licence?’ His tone was curt, as if he’d picked up some of my narkiness.

‘No,’ I replied.

‘What? Why not?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘You mean you…?’

‘I don’t drive.’

‘Jesus, Kate. It’s a basic life skill.’

I shrugged. ‘Not for a Londoner it’s not. We have public transport, and taxis, and feet. And besides, think of the environmental impact of private cars.’

That silenced him briefly. Then he said, ‘But you’re perfectly happy for the planet to take the hit of me driving us.’

‘Not necessarily. I’d be equally happy with a cab. But if being behind the wheel of a car is central to your sense of your own masculinity, then please don’t let me stand in your way.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s central to my sense of being able to get us where we’re going and being able to find Andy once we’re there.’

It was my turn to be silenced. The trauma of the flight had almost pushed my concern about Andy from my mind, but now it came rushing back. I was safe and in one piece, but what if he wasn’t? Why was I sniping at Daniel when we were here with a shared purpose, on a mission that might have a tragic end?

You need to grow up, Kate, I told myself firmly. Don’t let him get to you. Eyes on the prize.

I waited while Daniel completed the paperwork and picked up the keys, then followed him to the car, a basic red sedan, and watched him load our bags into the boot. His was a battered blue-and-grey backpack that looked like the veteran of many festivals and camping trips; my own wheeled lilac case looked somehow prissy and impractical by comparison.

He opened the passenger door and held it while I got in, and I automatically thanked him.

While he fiddled with the satnav and air conditioning, I peered out through the windscreen. The sky was a clear, deep blue, the sun about to set. Even with evening drawing in, it was still roasting hot. Beyond the anonymous stretch of car park and the concrete bulk of the airport building, I could see a fringe of palm trees – the first sign that we were actually abroad, rather than just in any airport anywhere.

‘You’ve got the booking confirmation for the hotel?’ he asked.

‘No, I thought we could just sleep on the beach, Daniel.’

He turned towards me, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. ‘Fine with me. I just didn’t picture you as the wild-camping type.’

‘Of course I have it. Two adjoining rooms, with sea views. Although you’re welcome to sleep on the beach if you prefer.’

Unbidden, an image came into my mind of Daniel with sand in his hair, stretching his arms up to the morning sky, walking naked into the sea. I pushed it away – I’d often muttered, ‘Oh, get in the sea,’ to myself in annoyance at him, but that was definitely not what I’d meant.

The mental image lingered for an infuriatingly long time while Daniel started the engine, reversed out of the parking space and swung out of the car park onto an access road and then a motorway. And then it vanished, abruptly replaced by another picture in my mind – that of Daniel and me lying dead in a pile of crumpled metal.

‘Daniel! Jesus Christ, you’re driving on the wrong side of the road!’

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