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“Oh great, it’ll do you good, Tory, getting away from everything. Give you some perspective and a clearer head.”
I nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right, Hattie, but I’m going to sulk in my room or by the pool for a big proportion of the time so you can go and have hot holiday sex with that fiancé of yours.”
“Deal. I could really do with some hot holiday sex.” She sounded tired, and I sat down on the edge of the bed. The two abandoned toms eyed me with annoyance from the dresser, so I stuck my tongue out at them.
“Oof!” A small black and white cat landed on my stomach, turned round a couple of times, then settled down purring, her paws tucked underneath her. Sometimes, being the go-to stray cat adopter in the area wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I vaguely wondered where the other four were.
“You okay?”
“Yep, just being sat on. What about you? Medical school still being a bitch?”
“I managed to get some of the holiday study done already, and I found a volunteer project for September, so that’ll look good when I apply for positions at the end of next year, but I’m still feeling frazzled from the exams.”
“You do know that my dad could just speak to a few people on the board of the Royal Hospital. I’m sure they’ll make sure you get something,” I said, searching through my bedside table drawer for my passport.
“I appreciate it, Tory, but I want to earn this, not be handed it.”
“I know, babe, and I totally get it, but I don’t want you killing yourself with work. The offer’s there if you need it.”
“Hmmm, reckon your dad would do it anyway? I mean, you aren’t exactly the most popular person at the moment, and I think I might be tainted by association.”
I laughed. “My parents adore you, Hattie. You’re the daughter they never had. Well behaved, perfectly immaculate at all times, and... what else... oh yes, engaged!” She burst out laughing, and I grinned my first real smile since the ball. “You might want to call and chat to my mother about letting me come to France though, so she can soften my father up. He’s stopped my credit card for the time being. I’m sure he’s convinced I’m having a lurid affair with some drug addict that I’m planning to run off with.”
“Ha! Why does he think that?”
I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Beats me. I think he’s decided hot, rough sex elsewhere is the only reason I could possibly turn down Lord Jasper Wyndham.” I sighed. With Jasper out of the picture, there was no longer even a chance of something physical happening, and I wasn’t exactly one for one-night stands. With the way I was feeling at the moment, though, I could possibly come around to the idea. Something hot with no strings attached.
“Well, I’ll ring Aunt Farah now and we’ll work on getting you to France next week, then we can work on getting you some hot, rough sex.”
I grinned, my eyes travelling over the blonde wig. “Sounds good to me. I’ll start packing.”
Charles De Gaulle airport was absolutely heaving with people. Men and women in sharp suits carrying overnight bags hurried past with their mobiles glued to their ears, and families stood in groups, charged after runaway kids, or in the case of one couple, sprinted through the airport with matching buggies and suitcases, barely keeping control and nearly hitting several other travellers in a bid to reach their gate before it closed. The summer holidays were in full swing. Thankfully, no one jostled me or came close to hitting me with suitcase trolleys or buggies. West and Davenport stood on either side of me, and their sheer size was imposing enough that people gave us a wide berth. West was uncomfortable in the crowd. He gazed around, a nerve ticking in his jaw, then he glanced down at me.
“I think the gate is that way.” He gestured down the forecourt and I nodded, sifting my large YSL bag back onto my shoulder.
“Lead on, MacDuff,” I said.
“Why don’t you let me take your bag, Lady Victoria?” Davenport asked. “There’s no need for you to carry it.”
“Oh, thank you, Davenport, but I’m fine, and there are things I might need in it anyway. Lady things...”
“Oh, of course... Um…” He stepped back, blushing slightly, and I fought back a grin as I glanced at my Rolex.
“Um, actually, West? Might I have a little time to go freshen up before we find the gate? There’s a ladies’ room just there.” I gestured across the crowded concourse to a blue door.
West glanced at his own watch. “We have plenty of time, my lady, but wouldn’t you rather we head to the first-class lounge? I think you’ll prefer the facilities up there.”
“I... er… need to go now,” I replied, smiling at him and shifting back and forth on my feet a bit, as if I were uncomfortable.
“Of course, my lady.”
“Great, be back in a minute!” I turned and dashed across the concourse, my tiny frame weaving through the throngs of people much faster than West’s bulk could.
He froze for a second in surprise then came after me, pushing his way through the crowd. I paused briefly in front of the door, holding it open as I stood just inside the doorframe and waved at him until he saw me standing there. He rolled his eyes, annoyed I’d run off without him again, and looked back down to slide through a gap between an old couple and four men holding briefcases who were talking loudly. I looked over at Davenport, who seemed to have run into someone and was apologising profusely. With no eyes on me, it took a split second to drop into a group of teenagers who were rushing past, haul off my jacket, and pull on an old beanie I hadn’t worn since I was fourteen.
I inched my way deeper into the group and held my bag and jacket low so they couldn’t be seen. I hurried along with the group through the concourse, looking back only once to see West and Davenport standing on either side of the door to the ladies’ room. I grinned to myself at my success, then turned and started pushing my way through the group to get farther ahead. I only had a few minutes to get away before they noticed I was taking a long time and went in looking for me.
A photo booth stood a little way off to the right, and I slipped into it. Using the screen as a mirror, I zipped my bag open and pulled out my supplies—a battered old backpack with some old clothes and a fleece jacket I’d borrowed years ago from an old boyfriend that luckily still fit me. I pulled it on and zipped it up. Next came the shoulder-length blonde wig. I quickly braided my hair and pinned it up before pulling the wig on. After a few little tweaks, it lay nicely. The beanie went back on, as well as a pair of my mother’s old reading glasses. Off with my four-inch heeled Gucci boots, and on went my rather worn in hiking boots I’d worn tramping around my parents’ friends’ country estates over the years. I transferred all my stuff from the YSL bag to the rucksack and pulled the curtain back to peer out. Standing on the stool, I could just see over people’s heads to where West and Davenport still stood waiting for me. West was looking at his watch. I jumped down and slipped out of the cubicle with one last wistful glance at my abandoned designer bag and boots on the seat. Hopefully someone who appreciates the finer things in life would find them and give them a good home.
