‘Lord, no. At these prices, you could’ve bought ten tickets. Anyway, I need to get back to my wife.’
‘Is that her over there?’ The redhead points to the person he just got the ticket from.
He bursts into laughter. ‘No, that’s my assistant.’ His face drops. ‘My wife is here, but in our room, sleeping. She isn’t feeling too great.’
‘I’m sorry. Not had too much of the amber nectar, has she?’ She glances down at the remnants of whisky in his tumbler and laughs.
‘No. Beth has cancer.’
His flat response floors the woman. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean – I mean… Oh, hell.’
‘It’s OK. In fact, I’m using the talk tomorrow to sing her praises.’
‘Oh. How so?’
‘I’m going to talk about dealing with adversity. Dealing with life’s challenges. Adopting a mental state that tackles the worst of situations head-on. See, my mother has dementia. Before Beth got very ill, she did the lion’s share of the caring, alongside running our company. I’m just the face. She’s the brain behind it all. I want to use her ongoing journey as a guiding light. A beacon to those who are going through tough times and need to see the light at the end of the tunnel.’
‘And she’s happy for you to do that?’
‘Beth doesn’t like the accolades. The attention. She prefers to be in the background. But her story is one worth telling.’
‘She sounds like a remarkable woman.’
‘She is. Very remarkable. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I need to get a few things arranged before I crash for the night. Need to be on top form for tomorrow.’
‘Thanks again for the ticket.’
‘Not at all. I look forward to seeing you there.’
He walks back to the group of people he was talking to before he came over.
I’ve never felt more confused. He seems a fairly straight guy. Genuine. No hint of the sleazebag traits Fi and I noticed before.
28
SCARLETT
My legs turn to jelly as soon as I board the tram back to the airport on Sunday afternoon.
Justin is sitting in the middle of the carriage to the right of me. A young lad sits behind him on his phone. Justin leans towards the woman on the aisle seat opposite and says something quietly. She must be his wife, Beth, who he mentioned to the woman at the bar last night. She looks older than him. Her face is grey and round with puffy skin around her eyes and flushed cheeks. She rummages through her bag and hands him a packet of tissues.
Last night, I lay awake for hours, berating myself for not getting to speak to him during the conference. He must’ve gone back to his wife straight after his talk because I never saw him again. It felt like this trip had been a very expensive waste of time. I might as well not have bothered.
That was until now.
I don’t think twice. I can’t waste another opportunity. I need to seize my chance.
It feels as if some kind of invisible force – pushed along by my grief and my sister’s hand firmly on my back – powers me along the carriage until I’m standing between Justin and his wife. My heart hammers in my throat.
He smiles at me. A smile that lights up his sharp green eyes. I smile back. He offers me a seat. I decline and make up some silly comment about having plenty of time to sit on my flight. As he asks me where I’m going, I glance at the woman sitting in the seat behind him, holding a bag withI love Stockholmwritten across the front, and I blurt out, ‘I’m on my way to Stockholm.’
We strike up a conversation, my lies coming as fast as the tram hurtling its way to the airport. I make up some story about visiting my boyfriend when he asks me what takes me to Sweden. But I don’t even know if there are flights from Edinburgh to Stockholm this evening.Think, Scarlett. Think. I concoct another lie about having to fly via Stansted. I tell him I have a stopover and will be flying to Stockholm in the morning. Each lie spins into the next, a tangled web I’m weaving with no backup plan to save me if I fall.
Then I realise we’re on the same flight.
Beth fidgets in her seat as he chats to me. I can feel her eyes boring into me. She interrupts him mid-sentence, waving her phone at him. He produces a battery pack from his bag on the floor between his legs. She plugs her phone into it, side-eyeing me all the while. To break the tension, I compliment her necklace. A crazy statement because it’s only a plain silver cross, but its size catches my eye and, not to be unkind, there’s little else I can think to compliment her on.
The tram stops at the station. I panic. I don’t want to lose him. I need to talk to him some more. He stands and helps his wife up. Before I know it, he wishes me a safe flight, and they merge with the crowds surging towards the terminal.
