Page 39 of The Custard Tart Cafe by the Sea
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m coming with you,” I insist, rising quickly from the seat and grappling at my bag to chase after them.
“Willow, please give me the benefit of the doubt. I’ve been a jerk and an idiot rolled into one,” Tiago pleads.
He looks so incredibly hot today; hair mussed-up, T-shirt just snug enough to reveal those glorious abs, and his topped-up tan gives him and the smattering of hairs on his well-toned arms a healthy surf-style glow.
“You can say that again.”
“I’ve been a jer…”
“Look, I can’t trust you,” I interrupt him. “And I can’t ever see that changing, so we can debate it until the cowsandthe Portuguese roosters come home. You have a hidden agenda. You’re a control freak. You charmed your way into my bed.”
“Technically, it wasmybed.”
“See. This is what I mean.” I slap my forehead for added effect. “You have a comeback for everything. No matter how big or small. You always need to be right. You can apologise all you like but frankly, I never want to see you again.”
I am talking out of my backside and the two of us know it, but I am done with this discussion. And for the love of God, why do we always have these showdowns in public places?
“I’ll get down on my knees in front of the entire airport if I have to. I know I’m far from perfect but I opened my heart up to you last week. That took some doing. I thought you understood the reasons behind my idiotic behaviour. We have something, Willow. Something with the potential to become really special. You know we do. Please don’t be too proud to recognise that.”
“You’re callingmeproud? What a hypocrite. What you’re offering me is too little too late, Tiago.”
I grab my bag and run after Kelly and Radhika to join the boarding queue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Phew. That wasintense, unnecessary and wholly unexpected. Unacceptable too. I settle myself into my slate-grey and tangerine-orange plane seat and turn my thoughts immediately to the laminated menu. I deserve a glass of something fizzy after such a hellish encounter, even if it isn’t quite afternoon. And chocolate. Mountains of chocolate.
For some reason Kelly screwed up the pre-booked seating arrangements when she sorted out the return flight. But, though I may not be sitting next to Kelly and Radhika, I honestly don’t mind… increasingly so as it appears everybody has now boarded and I have an entire row of seats to myself plus a hand-me-down magazine, courtesy of Radhika. Lush! Tiago is nowhere in my eyeline either. Now all I need to do is swiftly disembark the aircraft once the flight is over, without dropping my passport, and pray that my case is one of the first off the luggage carousel so I can make an equally nippy exit from the airport without bumping into him. I have no idea how cases are loaded into the plane’s belly but I reckon there’s a good chance that mine and Tiago’s belongings will be spaced far apart, given we didn’t check in at the same time. That comforting thought further relaxes me and I stuff my purse into the netted pocket of the seat in front of me, ready to purchase my tipple and treats when the bar service begins.
The engines embark on their warm-up routine. I am determined to enjoy every moment of this journey. I yawn and flex my arms, lacing my fingers together and stretching them outwards, focused entirely on the bubbles which will soon calm my fears at being seven miles high in the sky.
A member of the cabin crew walks down the aisle to do her final passenger and hand luggage checks before take-off. She stops suddenly at my row, leaning in to say something to me, so that I fear Kelly has ticked a box online forewarning the staff that I’m a nervous flier.
“Hi there, I hope you don’t mind but I have a request… we have a family of three on today’s flight who have unfortunately made an error whilst selecting their seats online, meaning a mother and her two young children are all sitting apart from one another. Since you have two seats free…” she gestures at the aisle and middle seat and I already feel like the world’s greediest woman despite the fact none of this luxury was planned. “I was wondering if you would be so kind as to move to one of the seats the family is currently occupying. Of course, none of this is your fault or your problem, but we prefer that children be seated with their parents, ideally. The pilot is also keen that we take off in the next five minutes, so that we don’t miss our landing slot at Bristol.”
“Oh… of course,” I reply, because what else can I do? Hopefully Kelly’s annoying mistake won’t now mean I am sitting next to a snorer with a tendency to fall on his neighbour’s shoulder and dribble, or somebody who ate a pile of garlic bread last night.
“Thank you so much, Madam. Just bring yourself and your essentials, and follow me as quickly as possible.”
We stride what feels like a walk of shame right down to the other end of the aircraft, passing a male member of staff going the other way with a mother and what can only be described as two teenage boys in his charge. My jaw drops at the way I have so casually given up my seat without proof of merit. These ‘young children’ are both taller than me, sporting facial hair that would impress Jason Momoa, and they are chewing gum with a total and utter attitude. In other words they’re perfectly capable of sitting alone. I’ll bet the mother has kicked up a fuss so they don’t get served any alcohol. Talk about infuriating!
There’s no choice now but to resign myself to my fate. I swear everybody thinks I’m a latecomer who is holding the flight up, when far from it, I am actually getting every single passenger on board home on time. I mouth a sarcastic “thanks” to my friends as I pass them and they raise their brows inquiringly. I was so deliriously happy on my own back there as well. Yes, this break has been wonderful, overlooking certain aspects, but I haven’t actually had any me-time in seven days. Kelly and I shared a room and, since Kelly likes us to do everything as a family unit, being shacked up together so intimately put paid to that. Small wonder I’d quickly felt enthused about having the window seat (and entire row) to myself back there. Just me, and two and a half hours of blue skies, clouds, pointless gossip columns, and deep thought to clear my head and prepare for the return to my beautiful café, devoid of guilt for attempting to put every bakery in Portugal out of business.
The steward leading me to the rear of the airbus suddenly stops and I quickly realise I haven’t spotted Tiago on my travels. That’s weird. My seriously in-denial brain decides this is because he’s flying to Porto/Madeira/The Azores today.
And then reality bites.
Once again, I upgrade the choice of cursing in my head, as seems to be so frequently the case in his presence. Of course, out of all of the one-hundred-and-eighty-ish seats on an easyJet plane, my new seat is right next to bloody Tiago.
“Hey,” he looks up, and to be fair, he’s just as stunned as I am.
“No, no, no, no. I can’t sit here.” I shake my head wildly, pleading with the retreating back of the cabin crew. “You don’t understand… I know this man, and not in a good way. I cannot sit next to him for over two hours. I cannot sit next to him at all! Please find me another seat. Any other seat!”
“You’ll sit the fuck down, love if you know what’s good for you! I’ve got a taxi booked and waiting in Bristol and a shift at the pub for a very thirsty skittles team to be on time for tonight. On your head be it if we’re late!”
I turn to scowl at the owner of the voice behind me, quickly changing my mind as I take in the snake-like eyes, ruddy cheeks and tangle of gold medallions of the unimpressed woman.
“Give her a break,” Tiago snaps over his shoulder. “She’s volunteered to swap seats because of somebody else’s cock-up. I can’t see any of the rest of you doing the same.”
