‘Well, that explains why I’ve been extra busy today.’
I handed him a box of pasties, then shut the door behind me and locked up, explaining what had happened while we headed to the food court.
‘Is lunch on you, then?’ He smiled.
‘Barb reckons I’ll splash out on either a flapjack or a new apron.’
‘Ooh. Tough choice. What’s it going to be?’
I grabbed a tray and started sliding it along towards the soup station.
‘I did wonder if there were any seats left on the evening flight to the Isle of Siskin.’
I caught Pip’s flinch in my peripheral vision, but by the time I’d steadied the tray and turned back to him, he was peering at the rows of soft drinks nodding his head non-committedly.
‘Wow. That’s… spontaneous.’
I tried to shrug in a spontaneous, carefree kind of way.
‘Great, though!’ His eyes kept searching the bottles. ‘A great idea. The island is great this time of year.’
‘Okay, well, that’s… great.’ I turned back, flustered by his response.
Was he pleased or panicking? Did I sound like a weirdo who had responded to a casual lunch invite by turning full-on stalker, wedding dress stuffed in my suitcase just in case?
I waited until we were sitting at my table before doing my best to clarify, hoping it didn’t sound as if I’d just come up with an excuse while paying for the soup.
‘For nine hours a day, six days a week, I watch people head through the doors of Gate Two, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to join them. They fly to three destinations: Belfast, Düsseldorf and Siskin. I spend most of my life surrounded by walls, dreaming of wide-open spaces and a refreshing breeze. The last thing I want is a city break. And I haven’t seen the sea since I was fifteen.’
I hesitated before continuing, not wanting to reveal how little I knew about my own mother. ‘This week, I found out my mum visited the island before I was born. I don’t think she flew anywhere again, so it seemed as good a place as any for my first time.’
‘You’ve never been on an aeroplane?’
I ripped off a chunk of bread roll. ‘Every day, in my imagination.’ I tore that piece into two smaller ones. ‘I’ve never really been anywhere but here.’
‘Well, in my opinion, you couldn’t pick a better place to start.’
‘You think I should do it?’
‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ He checked his watch. ‘Although, is there time? Check-in closes in ten minutes.’
Now that I’d pretty much decided, I simply had to get on that plane. My passport was in my bag, because I used it to get through Security each morning. The bag also contained a pack of tissues, phone, purse, water bottle and a spare hair bobble.
Oh, and perhaps most importantly, in my morning fluster, I’d shoved the stash of envelopes in there. I’d left them downstairs the night before, forcing myself to put them to one side and study the kiosk contract, in some kind of penance for my snooping, then grabbed them on my way to the van. I had no intention of reading them while at work, but some deeper instinct made me want to keep them close.
‘Is it rude if I run to the check-in desk and find out?’
‘Not if I come with you.’
‘You’ll have to go back through Security.’
He glanced at the departures board. There were three flights in the next few hours.
‘I think I can handle that.’
We grabbed our bags, dumped the trays on the trolley for dirty pots and hightailed it out of there.
‘Here she is,’ Ivor on the check-in desk announced. ‘The lucky lady! Come to show off your prize?’
